The Empty Christmas Tree

From the doorway shades of flickering Christmas tree lights blinked against the hall wall. "Mama," bed-bound Johnny Little asked, "why do we hafta celebrate Christmas when we can't afford anything? Why does there have to be Christmas, anyway?"

"Because it is our Lord's birthday, honey." Sharon Little bit back her anger and frustration and her own questions as she sat on the side of the bed. Her tinted light brown hair was pulled back and tied with a scrunchy. She swiped at an annoying eyebrow itch. She did not want to know if this holiday would be his last holiday with her. She wanted his sixth Christmas to be the best ever.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, "I thought it had to do with somebody's birthday."

Johnny Little's illness had stripped them of their savings as quickly as yesterday's clothing. The doctors told Sharon there was little else they could do for him. No one knew where the illness came from, or exactly what it was, but it was devestating to his little body. One minute he suffered delerium with high fevers, the next his tempeture would run normal. At times his breathing would be so labored she thought he would die at any moment. There was a spell of three weeks when he had to be on a respirator. Now his breathing would become shallow to the point the home-visiting nurse would put him back on the breathing machine. But, most of the time he was okay without it. The doctor had informed her the disease would most likely weaken his heart so much that he would not be able to tolerate it and that would be the end of it. He promised to keep him as comfortable as possible. She wanted him at home, with her, not in some cold sterile room with strangers.

The doctor made arrangements for a visiting Registered Nurse to come by two hours a day, one in the morning and one in the early evening. Hector Ruiz was a nurses Aide who stayed by Johnny's side, tending to his every need from 6 p.m. through until he had to go to school at 9 the next morning. He moved into Johnny's room and slept on a cot set up in the corner. Sharon was grateful for her neighbor's son who was attending nursing school. She did not know what she would do had he not offered to stay the Holidays with her and Johnny for nothing.

She watched him take Johnny's temperature and pulse, then brushed the tossled hair from his forehead as he cooled his fevered face with a damp cloth.

"Where's daddy?" Johnny looked around the room. "Gone back to work?"

"Yes, baby," Sharon's eyes teared as she tried to mask her lie.

Since Frank had left, a part of her wanted to hate him, but, guilt dug its claws into her mind as she knew a part of her also envied him.

When Johnny fell asleep, Sharon tip-toed out of the room.

A single log burned brightly, trying to chase the empty coldness out of the room. Sh stood before the fire-place, next to the empty Christmas Tree, she placed her right hand in her sweater pocket. Her fingers brushed the crumpled piece of paper. She took it out and held it in her trempling hands. She read the note again, still with as much disbelief as she had when she read it the first time, two days ago.

"My darling, I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me, some day. I just can't take it any more, seeing you and Johnny suffering so much. I've got to get out. Must do something. Forgive me for leaving you alone this Christmas. I love you both,"

Once her heart had gone out to Frank when the plant closed and he had lost his job of ten years. She did not fault him when he lost all his insurance benefits. She despised the unfareness of those others who thought him too old, or too qualified, or for whatever excuses they could manufacture not to hire him. She did not hold it against him when she had to go to work two years ago. When Johnny's illness took all their savings after she had to quit working to care for him full-time, she did not blame him.

She crumpled the note and threw it into the fire, wishing it could be Frank's head, instead.

She slumped into the over-stuffed chair - anger drying her tears. She stared at the empty tree. Temptation toyed with her to chuck the religious icon into the fire and really warm up the room. But, thoughts of Johnny seeing what she had done stopped from acting out her fantasy.

December 23rd dawned with the same emptiness as the day before. Johnny's condition seemed to worsen hourly, instead of daily. Her prayers for his recover went unheard. She was tempted to believe perhaps God no longer cared. Why not? she asked herself, no one else does, anymore.

The doctor came by early in the morning and checked him over. His look told Sharon that he could go at any moment.

"It's your call, Sharon," he said as he placed his stethescope into his bag. "If he gets worse, I can force the hospital to accept him without insurance. There we could ressucitate him. Here? ... well, what can I say? He's not going to get any better. It's only going to be misery for you as well as for him. So, it's up to you. What do you want me to do? Want me to get him admitted?"

"No." Sharon did not want to lose him, but did not want to see him suffer any longer than necessary. She looked at him laying in bad, the nasal canula forcing air into his nostrils.

"Sharon," he took her by the arm and led her outside the room. "You do understand that it is going to get worse before the end? He's going to do a lot of struggling, trying to breathe. His lips will turn blue - as will his face. His tongue will swell and turn black. There's nothing to be done, anymore. It's going to be very hard on you, I fear. . ."

"I'll not leave him in that place. I want to be right here with him. I want him to know that somebody who loves him is with him."

Well you're a lot stronger than me, I feel. Were he my child . . ." the doctor gently shook his head, "but, I'll go by your wishes." He said. At the door he turned and said, "Call me the instant there's any changes. I'll come over immediately, I promise."

"Thank you, doctor. Thanks for everything you've done. I'll ... one of us will call." She silently shut the door, leaned against it and muttered, "God, give me the strength. Please don't let my son suffer so much."

"Mama," Johnny continued his discussion, whispering weakly. "Is He my Lord, too?"

"Yes, baby, He is." Sharon answered. "And He's looking after you, too."

"Will you tell me about Him?"

She sat beside him on the edge of the bed and told him the story of Jesus's birth, the wise men, and the miracles He performed.

"Can He heal me too, mama?" he asked through labored breathing.

Sharon hesitated, then said, "Yes ... yes He can."

"Is that Him - there, in the doorway?" Johnny pointed behind her and made a small wave hello with his blue-tinted fingers.

Sharon turned quickly. The doorway stood empty. She turned back to Johnny, raised an eyebrow, and wondered. The doctor had warned her that the medicine could cause hallucinations. Looking at Johnny's face and the expression in his eyes, she looked at the doorway again, wondering what he seeing.

"Mama," he said, "He says you shouldn't cry ... that I'm going to be okay. He says ... soon I won't ... hurt anymore."

Clutching his hand, she no longer hid her tears. As her shoulders silently heaved, she thought she felt someone touch her. She looked up, half expecting to Hector, or someone, to be there. Hector looked up from his cot as she looked into the air.

"Mama" Johnny said, "why ... do you talk about Him, ... but you don't see Him ... when He's right ... beside you? He says that ... if you really ... believe Him, you ... will be able ... to see Him."

"Such talk for a young man," she said as she wiped her eyes. "I've never been more proud of you than I am at this moment."

She felt warmth flow from his hand into hers. It flowed up her arm and seemed to lift the tired weight from her shoulders. Her fingers trembled as she watched a golden light magically appear around his head. Hesitantly she reached up to touch the glow, but, felt something barr her way. As her fingers pressed lightly on his forehead, a shiver coursed its way through her body.

The Aide moved to the side of the bed. The look on his face concerned Sharon. She looked back at Johnny after seeing Hector cross himself and kiss his crucifix hanging around his neck.

"Johnny, honey?" She sighed, afraid she was losing him. "Mama loves you so much."

"Ooh," he said, "so many ... people. Hi grampa ... gramma..."

As he started telling who was coming in the room, the doorbell rang. Sharon's heart lept into her throat. Without any need to be told, the Aide quietly left to answer the door.

"Mama," Johnny whispered, "it's okay, ... don't cry. They say they're ... not coming for me, ... but to be with us ... on Christmas day ... and tomorrow morning. I wish you ... could see them."

Sharon felt pangs of anger welling in the pit of her stomach. She felt helpless hopeless - useless.

"Gramma says don't ... worry ‘bout daddy," he continued as the golden glow spread over his frail body. "She says he'll be back ... just needs to find himself ... or something like that." He stopped talking, looked Sharon in the face, saw the lines of worry and anger, cocked his head and asked, "Is daddy really gone?"

She did not want to answer him, not now, not tonight. She pressed her hand into the pit of her stomach.

Johnny turned his attention to the gathering, laughing now and then as he listened to stories unheard by his mom.

Hector came back into the room, "Ma'am?"

"Yes?" she said.

"Uh," he stammered, unsure of what to say, "there are some people at the door. Do you want me to let them in?"

"People? What people?" She looked at her watch to see the lateness of the hour. She could not imagine who would be coming over this late at night. "Yes, I guess so. I'll be right there."

Sharon watched in disbelief as her living room began filling with people, old friends she had not seen in a long time, newer friends, even some people she had worked with up until just after Thanksgiving.

"How's the little man doing, my dear?" asked Mrs. Homer Konkle, the old couple down the street who Johnny had gotten to know over the last couple of years. Mr. Konkle placed a gift under the empty tree, then hugged her.

"Sharon, I'm sorry I haven't been by sooner." Veronica, a former co-worker, hugged Sharon. "I hope Johnny's feeling better soon. You'll see, I bet it won't be long before he's out of that bed and running and playing. We miss you at the office. We all do." Her date, Phillipe, placed a beautifully wrapped gift next to the Konkle's present.

Sharon stood in disbelief.

Several more people came in bearing gifts and well wishes. The Aide, touched by the flow of people went to make coffee for everyone.

The doorbell rang again. As Sharon opened the door and almost fainted. Mr. Harry Frankl, of Frankl and Jospers, her former boss, took off his hat and shook new falling snow from its brim before coming inside. Mrs. Frankl carried a large package that had obviously been professionally wrapped. "Where do you want me to put this?"she asked. Then she placed the gift next to the tree that had once been empty, but now rapidly filled up with gifts of all sizes and shapes. Mr. Frankl said, "I've brought some champagne, I'll just open it now since it is almost midnight."

She thought she could see a slight case of mist in his eyes.

"Sharon," he said, "Merry Christmas. ..." he said. "When Johnny's better . . . well, I just want you to know that your job will be waiting for you." He put up a gloved hand to stop her from saying anything, "I know, I know. You put in your resignation. But, to be honest, we never got around to accepting it. So, consider yourself off on a temporary leave of absence."

Veronica came up to her and handed her a Christmas card. "We took up a collection at the office. It's our Christmas present to you, Sharon."

"Why thank you ... thank you all so very much. I don't know what to say, or think." Sharon wiped sweaty palms across her dress as she looked toward Johnny's room. She thought about getting him, but decided not to disturb him. She wanted to be in his room with him, but felt obligated, although happy, to stay with everyone in the house. It had been so empty for the past month. She looked at the group of people, then back at Johnny's room. Her mind reeled with indecision.

"Ma'am?" The Aide asked, "do you have more glasses? We've run out."

"Uh, up in the back of the pantry."

"Mama . . ."

Everybody stopped talking and turned to look in unison.

Sharon started toward the bedroom when Johnny appeared in the doorway. "Mama" he cried, "Look, He said I was going to be okay." As he moved toward his mother, he spotted all the presents under the tree. Smoothly he bypassed his mother's open arms and made his way to the tree. Picking up one of the many gifts, he sat cross-legged on the floor. "Golly, are all these for me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Most of them," someone replied.

Sharon sat down beside him, her eyes full of questions.

"Mama," Johnny said as he looked up at her, "I told you He said I was going to be okay. Didn't you believe me? Didn't you believe Him? You ought to, He's really a nice man."

"Yes, honey," she cried as she held him close, "yes I do believe ... now."

The group began thinning out, saying their good-bye's to the Aide holding the door open for them.

When everyone was gone and the house still and quiet, Sharon asked the Aide to help her get Johnny back to bed. Although excited, Johnny quickly fell into a smooth, unlabored sleep, the first since the onset of his illness. The Aide checked Johnny's pulse and temp and everything seemed to be normal. He could only shrug his shoulders as he reported the results to Sharon.

Sharon heard a noise. When she re-entered the living room, she found she had another guest - her husband. ...