An Advent Story - Part 1 (Aaron Achartz)

The snow swirled around the black Equinox. Out of the chaos of the frozen flakes, the centerline of the highway flickered past. Joe Carver leaned forward, staring into the maelstrom. A green sign loomed out of the darkness. Branchwatch – 5 miles.

“How are you doing?” Miriam asked from the back seat.

“I’m doing alright.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “How are you and Josh?”

“He is still asleep,” Miriam said.

The small baby, barely two weeks old, lay swaddled in his blanket and buried deep in the car seat. In the darkness, Joe could barely make out his tiny face.

“We’re almost there,” Miriam said.

Joe nodded.

“Are you going to tell me why now?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I told you. You’ve never met my family and I want you to meet them.”

“Why now?” Miriam asked. “Is it because of Josh?”

Joe couldn’t help but smile at his son’s name. “A little, yeah.”

“Why haven’t we visited them before?” Miriam asked.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I told you, it’s just never been the right time. What with dad always working on the farm and it being so far away.”

“It’s only been about four hours,” Miriam said.

Joe was silent.

“I get it,” she said. “Maybe there’s something about your family you don’t like.”

“That’s not it,” Joe said. “It just wasn’t the right time.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed-”

“It wasn’t the right time!” Joe said, louder than he had intended.

A shrill cry came from Josh as the baby awoke.

“Now, look what you did,” Miriam said.

“It’s not my fault,” Joe said. His knuckles were white and gripped the wheel tightly. “You just didn’t believe me.”

“I do believe you,” Miriam said. She cooed to Josh. “There, there. It’s okay.”

“Even now, ruining everything,” Joe muttered. “I’ll show him.”

“What?” Miriam asked.

“Nothing.”

Lights appeared ahead. Like ethereal stars, they slowly emerged from the storm. They entered town, driving along Main Street.

Despite it being more than seven years, everything looked the same to Joe. Moe’s tool store, with the rusted iron awning. Sherbet’s ice cream stand, boarded up for the winter. The central square, but without…

“This is your hometown?” Miriam asked.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Over there is Larson’s bakery. Best bread in the county, except…” He trailed off.

“What?” Miriam asked.

“Uh, I said best bread except for mom’s. Now, there’s my old school.”

They drove slowly through town, Joe pointing out all the sights. As they reached the far end of town, the lights fell away behind them. Despite not being able to see a hundred feet, Joe knew exactly how to get home.

“Heading out of town?” she asked.

“The farm’s a mile away.” He drove through the snow.

“That’s where we’re headed for the night?” Miriam asked.

“Yes, that’s where I’m headed,” Joe said. “We’ll stay there overnight and continue to Des Moines in the morning.”

“Why?” Miriam asked.

He was turning them onto 216th Ave and nearly slid the SUV into the ditch. The back fishtailed out and he barely managed to get control.

“What do you mean?” He stared into the mirror.

“Something’s going on, Joe,” she said. “You’re anxious, worked up. Why are we really coming out here?”

“To visit my family.” He stared straight ahead at the road.

“No, it isn’t.”

“How would you know?” he asked. Agitation twanged his voice.

“I know you.”

“No one knows me,” he said.

“What’s wrong, Joseph?” she demanded.

He slammed on the brake. The car jolted forward.

“What are you doing?! You could’ve hurt Josh!”

“We’re here.” He pointed to orange lights coming from out of the darkness. He opened his door.

“Joe, stop!”

His foot was already out in the snow. Flakes blew past him into the SUV. The cold air began to swirl inside.

“What?”

“Just, tell me.”

“I need to show him,” Joe said. “Show him that he was wrong.”

“Who?” Miriam asked.

“My father.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

He slammed the door shut. Inside, he heard Josh begin to cry again. He shut his eyes, steeling himself. He had to do it, while he still felt brave.

He trudged through the snow, past his brother’s Camry and his dad’s old red pickup. He climbed the stone steps to the top of the hill. He stood at the edge of the porch.

His hands shook. He felt tiny pinpricks of cold as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. He took a trembling breath. He’d show him. One last shouting match, and then he was free. He’d never have to come back here again.

He looked up at the old white farmhouse. The lights glowed warm inside. Through the front window, he saw them seated around the dining room table. Plates of cookies were spread across it. There was milk for the children and eggnog for the adults.

They were laughing and talking, while he was out here, suffering in the cold. He’d show them. If they ruined his Christmas, he would ruin theirs.

He stepped up onto the porch. His face was set in a determined grimace. He balled his fist, ready to slam it against the door and ruin their Christmas Eve. He would drag everyone outside. Show them his wife, his son, his happy life. Show them that they were wrong about him.

He stood outside the door for nearly a minute. His fist was raised in the air. But he couldn’t bring it down. He told himself to get it over with. But he couldn’t.

His arm fell from exhaustion. He needed to calm himself. He couldn’t let his anger, his resentment, his regrets bring discord to himself.

He walked back down the stone steps. Snow crept along the back of his hood, slowly dripping a cold trickle down his back. He opened the door, climbed into the SUV, and shut it.

“Well?” Miriam asked. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you…?”

“I couldn’t ruin Christmas. For them or me.” He sighed. “I was so certain this was the right path.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

“You’re right.” He turned the SUV on. “Now, let’s find a place to stay.”

He drove off into the snow, which swallowed them up. An older woman came over to close the purple curtain. She looked out at the peaceful winter night, wishing someone else was there as well.