Chapter 11

The sun was starting to set and a gloom pervaded the cabin making it harder for Sam and Al to read.  For the past hour, the only sound from either of the two men had been the turning of pages.  The silence was soon broken by the sound of Sam’s stomach growling.  He tried to ignore it but it kept happening.  “You ready for dinner?” he finally asked.  “I think I am.”

Al looked up.  “I could eat.”  Actually, being a bit under the weather, his body was telling him not to eat too much, but this was Christmas Eve and he knew how much that meant to Sam.

Sam put the book down and got up.  “Since I didn’t find anything else today, I guess it’s gonna be the can of spaghetti and meatballs – unless you’d rather have something else.  I guess if you want, we can do something with all that tuna.  We just don’t have any more bread or mayo.”  He looked at Al waiting for a response.  “It’s up to you.”

“Spaghetti and meatballs is fine.  It’s a travesty that they call it that, but I guess it is edible.”

“It’s the best we can hope for right now.”  Sam went to the kitchen to get the can in question as well as a pan to heat it up in and the can opener and brought them back to the living room.  “At least it’s the family size so there should be enough for the two of us,” he commented as he crouched in front of the fireplace with it.  He opened the can, upended its contents into the pan, and pushed it close to the fire.  “I don’t think the directions really matter much since they don’t come with any for cooking over an open fire.”

Al watched as Sam plopped the spaghetti into the pan.  He knew the noodles would be mushy, the tomato sauce inferior, and the meatballs questionable.  He doubted he’d eat much.  He did his best to be positive about it.  After all, he was still sharing a meal with his best friend.  “Yeah.  I think all it needs is being heated up.”

Sam stirred the spaghetti a couple of times before turning around to Al.  “I guess it’s not exactly what we were really planning to eat for Christmas Eve dinner.  Oh well, I guess we should be thankful.  There could have been nothing in these cabins and then we’d really be in trouble.”  He got up from where he was crouched and went back to the kitchen to get plates and flatware for them to eat with.

Once he brought those to the living room, he went back to the kitchen.  Opening up one of the lower cabinet doors, he reached in and grabbed the last two cans of soda that they’d brought to the lodge with them.  He’d hidden them so that they’d have something different to drink with their Christmas Eve dinner in the event they hadn’t been found by then.

Bringing them back to the living room, he showed them to Al.  “Ginger ale or root beer?” he asked.

“Ginger ale.”  Al figured with the way his stomach was feeling that it might settle it a bit.  “I am thankful, Kid.  I’m thankful that we’re able to share Christmas no matter where we are.”

Sam again stirred the pan of spaghetti after putting the cans down.  “I’m thankful too, Al.  Don’t get me wrong.  I just can’t imagine this is what either of us had in mind.”  He stayed where he was looking into the fire and sighed.  “I just feel like something’s missing, that’s all - like the world is having Christmas out there without us and we’re stuck here.”

“I imagine that things weren’t too great on that first Christmas, Kid.  I mean, think about it.  In a strange town, no room to stay in, woman about to have a baby.  Life probably looked pretty grim then.  Having to make do in a stable I’m sure wasn’t on the top of their list.”

Unexpectedly, Sam started to laugh.  “The most inconvenient Christmas,” he said without explanation.

Al blinked at him, “What?”

“An inconvenient Christmas.  If anything went wrong at Christmas time, Dad would tell us it wasn’t bad, that it was inconvenient.  Then he’d tell us that the most inconvenient Christmas was the first one.”  He paused for a second.  “I haven’t thought of that in a long time but I guess that’s all this really is.  It’s an inconvenient Christmas.”

Al chuckled.  “Yeah.  I guess it was.  Doesn’t sound like you had many inconveniences at your place though.”

The smile faded from Sam’s face.  “We had our share of inconveniences.  I told you about breaking my arm on Christmas Eve when I was seven.”  He waited for Al to nod before he continued.  “When I was three, we almost didn’t have Christmas - period.  Mom and Dad had no money for anything.  If anything could go wrong that year, it did and that meant nothing left over for Santa Claus.  To top it off, Mom was pregnant with Katie and it wasn’t going well at all.”

“I remember you telling me about your arm.  What do you mean you almost didn’t have a Christmas when you were three?”

“There was a drought that year, Tom broke his arm, I had the flu, Mom wasn’t doing well with the pregnancy - there was just no money.”  As he explained, Sam got up and started to light the few candles they had since the sun had gone down enough that the cabin was dark.  “I don’t remember a lot about it - I don’t think I was really aware.  Mom didn’t tell me about it until I was 13.  Dad had to get a loan from bank just so we could live.  There was nothing left for Christmas presents.  Someone - Mom and Dad never found out who - ended up leaving gifts for Tom and me on the porch on Christmas Eve.”

Finished lighting the candles, Sam settled down on the mattress so he could face Al.  “We would have had Christmas without those gifts but I think Mom and Dad would have had to tell me about Santa Claus then.  Dad already tried to explain it to me.  He said that Santa didn’t have any money either but I just kept telling everyone that he’d still come.  I’m not sure what Christmas morning would have been like if that person hadn’t left the stuff.  That’s why I always put money in the kettles to help the poor at Christmas.  If someone hadn’t helped us...” he let Al fill in the rest.

Al nodded.  “There are good people out there.  There were a few times when we received things from strangers as well.  I remember one year Trudy got a doll and a new dress.  She would twirl around in it and say she was a princess.”

“What about you?” Sam asked.  “What did you get for Christmas when you were a kid?”

“I remember getting a blue peacoat one year when I was a kid.  It had anchors on it.  I think that was the first time I thought it would be really cool to be in the Navy.”

“That sounds really nice.  I got my red wagon when I was three.  I really wanted that and an electric train set.  Once it was warm enough to use it outside, I used to put all my books and Bear in it and pull it all around the front of the house until I found just the right spot to sit and read to Bear.”

“Bear was your best friend,” Al commented.

“He was.  I took him everywhere.  Mom and I had quite an argument my first day of school when I found out he couldn’t go.  If he couldn’t go, then I wasn’t going either and I was quite stubborn about it.”

Al tried to picture a six-year-old Sam arguing to bring his teddy bear with him and had to stop himself from laughing at the image.  “How did she convince you to leave him at home?” he asked instead.

Sam laughed a little at the memory of the argument he’d given his mother to keep Bear with him.  “You’ve never seen Mom when she’s set on having something go her way.  She didn’t really convince me.  She just took him from me and stuck him on the refrigerator where I couldn’t reach, picked me up, and carried me out of the house.  Of course, by then she’d been arguing with me about it since the night before so I can’t say I really blame her.”  He turned to the spaghetti to stir it again.  Seeing that it was heated through, he pulled it from the fire and reached for the plates to dish it up.  “I cried nearly the whole day at school.  I didn’t take separation very well - either from Bear or from Mom.”

“That must have been tough for you, kid.”

Sam shrugged.  “I think it might have been tougher on my teacher.”  He handed one of the plates to Al.  “She had to listen to me all day.  Let’s just say I had a good set of lungs and one hell of a stubborn streak.”  He sat down with his plate of spaghetti and poked it with a fork.  “I guess this is a far cry from your linguine and clam sauce.”

“It’s food and we’re sharing the meal.  That’s all that matters.”  Al poked at the food in his plate and tried a tentative bite.  “If you think you only had that stubborn streak when you were a kid, I’ve got news for you.”

“Mom says I come by my stubbornness honestly.”  Sam put a bit of meatball in his mouth.  “At least this is better than hospital food,” he said after he’d swallowed.  “I don’t think you can call that stuff food.”

Al got a contemplative look on his face thinking before saying, “Whenever I’ve been in the hospital, I’ve found having a beautiful nurse around makes everything better, including the food.”

“You would,” Sam responded rolling his eyes.  “Trust me, I don’t think anything could have made that stuff I was served edible.  If it weren’t for you bringing me in food from outside, I’d probably have been stuck there even longer for malnutrition.”  He ate a little more spaghetti.  He noticed that Al was pushing his around the plate more than he was eating.  “I know it’s not great, but it’s not that bad.  Aren’t you hungry?” he questioned.

Al shook his head.  “Not too much.  I think the cold has me under the weather.”

“I guess I can understand that.  Still, you need to eat.  I think you told me that yesterday.”

“Ok.”  Al smiled and put a bite in his mouth, chewing it quickly and swallowing.  He quickly took a sip of ginger ale.

The two continued eating for a while until Sam finally put his plate down with food still on it.  “I think I’ve had about enough of this stuff.  The only upside is that the pasta is so mushy it doesn’t hurt as much to swallow it.”

“Yeah.  I hate to say it, but this is no more Italian food than fortune cookies are from China.”

Sam smiled at Al’s comparison.  “I’ll have to agree with you there.”  He put his hand out to take the plate from Al.  Like his, it was still half-full.  He thought about the food they still had in the kitchen and the fact that there’d been no sign of the hoped for snowplows yet.  “You think we should save this for later or just call it a lost cause?”

Al looked distastefully at the food still in his plate.  The thought of eating it again wasn’t very appealing.  “I think it’s a lost cause,” he said as he handed the plate to Sam.

“I guess I’ll just throw it away, then.”  Sam took the two plates into the kitchen and reappeared a short time later with a pot of water that he set down beside the fire.  “I’m getting tired of washing the dishes in cold water,” he explained.  “I keep doing it and I won’t have to worry about going outside to get frostbite.  I’ll just get it in here.”

“You wouldn’t get frostbite from that, but you might get chapped hands,” Al pointed out.

“Whatever.  I’m still getting tired of putting my hands in cold water.”  While he waited for the water to heat up, Sam started to think about the cigars and Playboy that he’d hidden in the closet.  He’d always been as impatient to give gifts as he was to receive them and keeping the secret was starting to really get to him.  “You know, it was always a Beckett family tradition to exchange one gift on Christmas Eve after dinner.  Maybe we should keep that tradition.”  He figured he could give Al the cigars tonight and save the magazine for the morning.  True the man had bought both items for himself but it was the thought that counted and right now, he thought they were still back in the car.

Al looked at Sam a little strangely.  “I thought you said you left the gifts in the car.”

“Well, yeah, I did but...well...let’s just say Santa thought you were a good boy this year and he left you a little something.”  He looked at Al with what his friend had called his puppy dog face.  “It’s a tradition, Al.  You can’t break a tradition.”

Al sighed.  He only had one gift for Sam.  “Do you want your gift tonight or tomorrow morning?”

Al’s mention of a gift for him stopped Sam where he was.  “My gift?  How can you have a gift for me?  Like you said, they’re all back in the car.  I don’t understand.”

Al shrugged.  “Let’s just say it was something I had tucked away.”

Sam couldn’t imagine what it was Al could have tucked away and now he was curious.  He didn’t want to appear too curious or eager, though.  “Oh, well you can choose tonight or tomorrow but I’m going to go get what I have for you...or part of it.”

“Kid, I really need to know what you’d like.  I can give you your gift now or tomorrow, but I only have one.  You said you don’t want to break tradition.  Should I give it to you now?”

“I don’t know.  I guess you should pick since it’s your gift.  I don’t want to tell you what you should do.”  Without giving Al a chance to answer, Sam detoured into the kitchen where he found one of the bags they’d used for the food they brought with them then went into the bedroom.  He pulled open the closet door and took the cigars from where he’d hid them.  He dropped them into the plastic bag and wrapped it around them.  It wasn’t much as far as wrapping went but it was better than nothing.

“Here you go,” he said holding the oddly wrapped package out to Al when he returned to the living room.

Al sighed.  “Ok, I’m not opening this until I give you your present.  You just better not be disappointed tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t be.  I promise.”  Sam was more excited to see Al’s reaction to the gift than he was to see what he had for him.  As much as he wished Al would give up smoking the cigars, he knew that it was a part of who his friend was so if he accepted him as his friend, he had to accept the cigar smoking as well.

Al put the present on the table.  “Let me get yours.”  He found that his leg felt more swollen than before but he hobbled back to the back bedroom and pulled the bagged bear out of the closet.  Working his way back to his chair he sat down before handing it to Sam.  “Merry Christmas, Kid.”  He picked up the package that Sam had given to him.

As Al walked out of the room, Sam noticed that he seemed to favor his leg even more – not that that was unexpected since the man had broken it.  He accepted the package Al handed him when he returned but didn’t open it right away.  “Is your leg really bothering you?  You look like your favoring it more.”

“Oh, maybe a bit,” Al answered.  “Let me see what we have here.”  He pulled the box of cigars out.  “Hey, thanks, Sam.  I’m really glad you brought these in.  I was going nuts without a cigar.”

He wanted to press Al more on what ‘a bit’ meant but Sam decided to back off - for now at least.  He remembered what it was like earlier in the year when Al questioned every little twinge he’d felt after the car accident.  It had driven him crazy and had been the basis for more than a few arguments between the two.  He didn’t want to be the cause of it this time.  “I thought you might be,” said.  “Sorry I lied to you about them earlier.  I wanted it to be a surprise.  So, surprise!”  The smile on his face at seeing Al’s joy in the gift was as bright as if the gift had been given to him.

“Now you open yours,” Al said, his head indicating the package in Sam’s hands.

“Ok.” Sam sat down on the mattress and opened the bag, reached in, and pulled out what was hidden within it.  When he saw what it was, he stared at it for a few seconds before looking at Al.  “Is this my bear?”  As he asked the question, he searched for the tag on the bear and, finding it, saw his initials written there in black marker.  “How’d you get Bear?  What’s he doing here?”

“I brought him with us. I thought it would be nice to have some of your ‘family’ with you on Christmas morning”

Sam looked down to the bear in his hands and over to his friend.  “Thank you,” he said, his voice choking up just a little.  “This means a lot to me but I would have had family with me no matter what.  Now, there are two of you here with me.”

Al smiled as Sam held the bear. He hadn’t thought the gesture would be quite as important as Sam made it, but he realized now that the bear did evoke strong feeling in the man.  “I’m glad you’re happy, Kid.”

Brushing his hand over the fur of his beloved childhood toy, Sam came to a realization.  “Dad’s right, this is all just an inconvenience.  I’ve been looking for Christmas everywhere but where it really is.  It doesn’t matter if there are no decorations and no fancy dinner.  The thing that really matters is being with the people you care about and I’ve got that here.”  He looked up from the bear to Al.  “I know I keep telling you that you’re just as much my family as you are my friend.  I really do mean it Al.  You are my family and if you’re here, then that means that Christmas is here.”

Al smiled.  “I feel the same, Sam.”  He looked down at the cigars.  “I don’t think I can take one outside to smoke.  Maybe I should go in one of the bedrooms.”

“No,” Sam ordered.  “Stay there where you’re comfortable and smoke your cigar.  Just let me find something for you to use as an ashtray first.”

Al understood how much Sam really didn’t like smoking and the fact that he was telling him to stay were he was spoke volumes to him.  “Thanks, Kid.”

“Well, just remember this next time I call you at some ungodly hour with an idea,” Sam responded with a grin.  He went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl that he handed to Al.  “That should work for you.”  He settled down on the mattress again.  He may have told his friend to smoke in the same room he was in but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to put himself as far from the smoke as he could.  “You told me about the pea coat you got for Christmas when you were a kid.  What’s the weirdest thing you ever got?”

“Oh, that would have to be the cowboy outfit.”

“Cowboy outfit?  Did you get it when you were a kid?”

No, my four...no fifth wife gave it to me.  She said she always wanted the Lone Ranger to come save her.  I found spurs don’t work well in bed.”  Al said as he clipped the cigar.

“Ok,” Sam replied slowly.  This was territory he really didn’t want to cover.  “That, um, that’s weird I guess.”

“Yeah...after we divorced, I got rid of the outfit, except the white hat.”  He lit the cigar.  “And the mask.”

“I don’t think I want to know what you did or do with those.”  Sam tried to shake the image of Al in the cowboy outfit out of his mind.  “I’m almost sorry I asked,” he muttered.

“Ah come on, Sam, lot’s of people play in the boudoir.  Besides you asked.”  At the kid’s expression, he gave him a break.  “Ok, what was the weirdest you ever got?”

“I really don’t want to know what you’re doing in your boudoir and the weirdest thing I ever got sort pales in comparison.”

“Depends.  Could be a completely different weird.”

“Not really.  I guess the weirdest thing I ever got was a sweater from Aunt Piggy when I was 10.  She knit sweaters for all of us but I don’t think she really knew what size any of us were.  The sweater she gave me would have fit Dad.”  He shrugged after he finished conveying the tale.  “Told, you.  It sort of pales in comparison to yours.”

“Piggy?” Al asked.  “That sound like a story.”

“No, not really.  Her name was Margaret.  She’s Dave’s mother - my cousin who used to hide Bear.  Anyway, everyone called her Peggy.  I must have misunderstood or something when I was really young because I called her Aunt Piggy.  She didn’t seem to mind and it sort of stuck with her.  After a while, everyone called her Aunt Piggy.”

“That sounds nice.  I hope she was nicer than her kid.”

“Dave’s not so bad and I kind of can’t blame him.  I was a pest and I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean for me to break my arm.”  Sam picked up the bear from where he’d put it down beside him.  “Aunt Piggy was great.  If she could make it, she always came to my graduations even when it got hard for her.”

“Hard for her?” Al asked.

“She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer not too long after I got my MD.  She fought it as long and hard as she could.  She was an amazing woman and she lived life on her own terms.  She said she wasn’t going to let the cancer win - that it might take her life but it couldn’t take her spirit and she didn’t let it.”  Without realizing it, he started to rub the fur of the bear again.

“She does sound like a wonderful, strong woman.  I’m sorry she passed on.”  Al thought it sad that so many of the people that meant something to Sam were gone.

“Yeah, she was.  She really taught us how it’s important to live life to its fullest and never give up.”  Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Geez, you must think my family is one tragedy after another,” he said with a light chuckle.  “It seems I’m always talking about someone in my family who’s died.  They haven’t all met tragic ends.”

“No, I’m sure they didn’t Kid.”

While Al indulged in his cigar the two traded stories about their families.  It wasn’t always happy but it wasn’t all sad either.  Sam got up once while they were talking to add more wood to the fire as it started to dwindle.  He realized that they’d have to start being a little more conservative with it since they didn’t know how much longer they were going to have to wait from some kind of rescue.  “I guess if we start to run out, I can probably cut something down out there,” he offered.

Al nodded, noting that his cigar was at an end.  He snuffed out the end.  “Well, that was a great gift.  Thank you, Sam.”  He paused and then added.  “Do you mind if we get some sleep now?  I think I’m running on empty.”

“No, not at all.  I’m starting to get a little tired myself.”  Sam got up and took the bowl that Al had been using as an ashtray and brought it out to the kitchen leaving it in the sink.

When he came back into the living room, Al has already gotten himself comfortable on the sofa bed.  Before heading to his own bed, he stopped by his friend to check on him, lightly brushing his hand over his forehead.  “You still feel a little warm,” he told Al.  “Maybe you should take some more of those aspirin.”

“I don’t need them,” Al countered.  “I just need to get a good night’s sleep and I’ll be perfectly fine in the morning.  Like you said, it’s just a cold.”

“Ok,” Sam agreed uneasily.  “If you think so.”  He blew out the few candles he’d lit in the room as it had gotten darker then took care of the fire for the night.  That done, he sought the relative comfort of his own bed.  “Good night, Al,” he called out as he pulled the blankets over his body and nestled into the pillow.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you, Kid.”

Silence descended on the cabin but was soon broken by Sam.  “Hey Al?” he called.

“Yeah, Kid?” Al responded wearily.

“We never did hum any Christmas songs.”

There was no reply from Al but through the gloom he saw the outline of a throw pillow come sailing his way.  Even in the darkness, Al was on the mark as the pillow bounced off of Sam’s face.  “Point taken,” Sam chuckled.

Once again there was only silence in the cabin and both men slipped into sleep.

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