The Holidays Were Never the Same

Portland, Oregon – 1982

I can still remember how I felt when I sat there against the living room window. Beside me was our pine tree adorned with numerous ornaments and strings of colored lights. I remember the snow falling outside; the houses were lit up brightly, illuminating the kids playing outside.

“Are you gonna eat?” my mother asked.

I turned my head to face my mother who was standing in the archway between the living and dining rooms. I shook my head. Outside, a father was building a snowman with his young son – the younger brother of a girl in my class. December 1982 will always remain one of the worst time periods of my life. My father had left and moved into a small apartment over an hour away. It was hectic around here – my mother and a few friends and family members moved my father’s things out of the house and into storage. She was struggling to keep it together and so she put all her energy into making this Christmas special – the first one without my father. No matter the effort however, I couldn’t seem to enjoy anything.

It was a lot quieter in the house when my father left. We didn’t miss him – just the feeling that we used to have when his spot was filled. She put up with a lot; it took a few years of silent stares, fighting, and drunkenness for her to end her marriage. When I got older...I started to wonder how much longer she would’ve put up with all of it had he not beaten me on that trip. Suffice it to say, my mother ended up sitting at the table alone that Christmas...

Juneau, Alaska – 1994

“Shit...that sounds rough,” Shelley said hesitantly.

Aiden nodded as he avoided locking eyes with Shelley.

Shelley rolled her eyes, “No wonder you hate the holidays.”

“It’s just a constant reminder to me – how her and I felt during that divorce. Like the world that we knew was crumbling around us. And of course, in my mind, it was my fault.”

“Well yeah, because her son got beaten up by her husband,” Shelley interjected.

Aiden nodded once again and stood up from his chair and walked to the window; he watched as the snow fell onto the dark street. Just as it was in his childhood memories, the houses were lit up with beautiful lights. He could hear the children playing and calling out to one another. Shelley stood up and walked over to Aiden. She leaned her head onto his shoulder as she interlocked her arm into his.

“Y-you said your dad beat you on a trip…” Shelley stuttered quietly.

Aiden looked down – almost in shame – and spoke quietly, “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“You know those nightmares that I have?”

“They’re because of that trip?” Shelley asked.

“Yeah…”

Shelley looked up at Aiden and watched as he stared coldly out his window. That glare was almost haunting in its sadness. She caressed his face softly and kissed his cheek. As Aiden turned to face Shelley, she let go of his arm and walked towards the fridge. She opened it and pulled out one of her beers. Shelley was beautiful with her long auburn hair laying gently upon her back. Feelings of adoration pulsated through Aiden as he watched Shelley take the bottle opener off of the fridge.

Outside, the families continued playing in the snow. Hearing their laughter made Aiden look out the window once again. The snow began falling harder –

“C’mon guys get inside it’s getting late,” one of the parents outside called out.

“Okay mom!” both boys responded.

The children ran toward their mother excitedly leaving behind a small snowman on their lawn. Shelley appeared behind Aiden, touching the middle of his back. The pair lock eyes for a moment and embrace; while Shelley wrapped her arms around Aiden’s neck, he wrapped his arms around her waist. They kiss softly until Aiden’s hand grasps Shelley’s cheek and neck. Shelley puts down her beer and walks toward Aiden’s bedroom with him in tow. She teases him as they walk into the bedroom. Aiden’s head was spinning as he was pushed down onto the bed. From the living room, Shelley can be seen shutting the bedroom door behind her.

The apartment was dark apart from the bright lights of the holidays shining through the living room windows. Aiden’s bedroom door was a stark contrast to the rest of the apartment; it was dark brown wood surrounded by the light gray walls. Shelley’s voice – her laughter – can be heard faintly through the door.

Portland, Oregon – 1983

A couple of months after Christmas ended, my mother and I started getting used to our new living arrangement. I was still pretty despondent, but I was growing calmer; the anxiety that my father would cause was almost nonexistent. My mother was having friends and family over more than she ever had before. I suppose you can say we were...happier. We enjoyed not having my drunkard father there anymore.

I can’t remember if I had ever even asked about my father during that year. All I knew was, my mother wasn’t gonna let him hurt me again, or upset the peace that her and I finally had. The thing is, regardless of whether or not you’ll “let” someone do something, that someone may still take it upon themselves to ruin your damn day.

I remember waking up one morning to my mother shouting, but heard no one else shouting back. I stood up from my bed rubbing the sleep from my eyes. She was shouting at someone about my father and “what he’d done”. When I opened my bedroom door, the hinges would creak. My mother stopped shouting for a moment when she realized I was there in the hallway watching her. She retreated to her bedroom and gave me an attempt at a warm smile. But it wasn’t warmth I saw, it was pain. She kept shouting over the phone and I struggled to make out the topic of conversation.

“I won’t help him! Enough asking!” my mother shouted.

I pressed my hands and face to her bedroom door.

“He’s your son, you help him. There’s no way I’m putting money up to help that bastard – especially after what he did to our son.” My mother listened for a response, then continued. “No. You’re wrong. I did love him, but not anymore. There’s no coming back from what he did. He’s your problem now, not mine. If you’re gonna keep calling me just to tell me I should forgive your son, than go fuck yourself. He’s dead to me.”

She cursed. My mother never cursed. I heard her hang up the phone and pace around her room. I walked into the kitchen and watched my mother’s bedroom, but she didn’t come out.

Juneau, Alaska – 1994

Aiden and Shelley were laying in bed with a sheet up to their waists. The moonlight shown into the bedroom. Aiden had his arm around Shelley’s shoulders as he looked out the window to his left; the snow had let up a bit.

“Who was she fighting with?” Shelley asked.

Aiden kept his eyes on the snow and shook his head. “My grandmother. She called my mother about my dad.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Apparently his drinking had gotten worse and he was in jail for a bar fight.”

“And what did that have to do with your mother? What did your grandmother want from her?”

Aiden turned to face Shelley – she had a look of concern in her eyes. “My grandmother wanted her to bail him out and take him back.”

“Take him back?! After what he did to you?” Shelley exclaimed.

Aiden nodded. “She wanted us to forgive my dad for everything and just push it all under the rug, but the damage was done. There was no forgiveness left in my mother’s heart for my dad. And none in mine either.”

Shelley leaned back and grabbed Aiden’s hand and squeezed it. She let her head fall onto his shoulder. Aiden kissed her forehead and looked back out the window. He could see a hint of light emanating from the neighbor’s house across the street.

Portland, Oregon – 1983

Everyday after school, I would walk past the park on my way home. There was a small tree that sat atop a hill. There was something odd about it – an aura or something that drew me to it. Yet, until that particular day, I had never walked over to it. Its branches were crooked and slightly arched. It seemed like they would engulf you. And ever since seeing the barn owl on that hunting trip with dad, I was afraid to go near any trees.

Around mid-March, I was leaving school. As I walked out of the main doorway of the building, I saw a couple classmates making fun of a girl in our class. Without realizing it, I walked over to them and shoved one of them to the ground. They were stunned, but not more than I was. I had never been violent before, but something snapped in me as I listened to the insults come out of that boy’s mouth. While the other boy watched me in shock, I kicked the one on the ground twice, and pushed the one standing up. The boys didn’t even utter a word to me. They ran away, past the girl they were just insulting. She stared at me, frightened she’d be next. I remember just walking away...off the school’s lot and towards home.

As I approached the park, I took note of the scary tree as I did everyday, but this time I walked towards it. The tree seemed to call out to me – insisting that I sit under it. The tree was remarkable. Its bark almost seemed smooth to me and up close, the branches didn’t look as crooked as they did from afar. I sat on the ground at the base of the tree and breathed in. And breathed out. From this small hill, I had a good vantage point of the area. I could see my school to my left and the park playground to my right. The leaves over my head felt like protection – a shield from the elements, animals, and dad.

Juneau, Alaska – 1994

Aiden was sitting at his desk at work with his phone to his ear.

“I never knew you got into a fight at school,” Aiden’s mother expressed over the phone.

Aiden sighed. “Yeah well, it wasn’t something I was particularly proud of. I just,” Aiden took a breath, “it reminded me of those times dad would yell at you. He’d talk to you like you were lesser than him.”

“Your father...he couldn’t help but need to be superior over others. It took him too long to realize that everything he’d gone through as a child and whilst in the army was constantly changing him. He just couldn’t see that the two people in front of him loved him more than anything. Even with us, he needed to constantly prove that he was better. His father instilled that in him.”

Aiden adjusted in his chair. “Grandpa instilled the need to be better?”

“Your grandfather would beat your father until he bled. He needed constant perfection from him.” Aiden’s mother continued, “your dad was raised to compete with everyone around him. In the beginning of our relationship your dad and I would bump heads, but it wasn’t until he came back from the army that he started getting physical.”

Aiden winced in pain as he squeezed his temple. “He must have seen things over there huh?”

“I’m sure he did. He was never a sharer. I guess you can say that your father went down a rabbit hole of pain and confusion. He had a need to belong – not only to a particular community, but a way of life. That only enhanced his inner need to compete with others. And to top it all off, your father needed to drink the pain away,” Aiden’s mother sighed.

Aiden was quiet for a moment. “I should go now mom – I need to finish up some things before I head home.”

“Before you go, are you gonna tell me about Shelley?” Aiden’s mother asked.

Aiden smiled at the mention of Shelley’s name.

“Well? Are you?” Aiden’s mother insisted.

Aiden laughed. “She’s...perfect.”

“Perfect? Well, maybe the next time you visit you can bring her along so I can meet her.”

“If you’re lucky,” Aiden joked.

A boisterous laugh erupted from the phone. “Merry Christmas Aiden, I love you.”

“Merry Christmas mom, I love you too.”

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