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Another Christmas Carol

Part Four - Lo Spirito del Natale Ancora a Venire

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by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

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Previously...Kearny, New Jersey...
 

"Simple things, aren't they? But they are more than simple to these dear ones, since they are treasured with love and affection and gratitude, Al. The little girl has lived through such pain in her short lifetime. She is doing better after a long bout with a terrible illness that still threatens her life. And she is grateful for the life she has because of the love that her family showers upon her."

...The room seemed to fill with light until it was too bright for Al to keep his eyes open. A moment later he found himself sitting upright in his bed. Looking over at the clock radio he noticed that Ella Fitzgerald was singing merrily about letting it snow or something like that. And he noticed as well that it was twelve past two... He closed his eyes and struggled to remember what he had just witnessed...if he had witnessed anything at all. A few minutes later he was sound asleep.

Soon thereafter...

Al rolled over and felt a warm wetness on his cheek; embarrassing even if no one else would know, he cursed the drool from a night of restless sleep. Dreams so strange had plagued him from the moment his head hit the pillow. The sounds of yuletide carols and Diana Krall filled his bedroom as he gazed at the offending radio; three — seventeen on Christmas morning. He grinned at his fortune; realizing that the odd hour assured him that all of the preceding visions were just that; dreams and nightmares from too much cavatelli and clam sauce at lunch.

He rolled over and covered his head with his pillow, but not enough to block the grayish orange glow that came from his bedroom door.

“Tirchio,” the voice came softly but with such a sad and mournful tone he would swear later that he was sitting in the midst of a funeral. The voice repeated his name; a summons of sorts to attend to needs unmet? No sound was heard, but in his head his name resounded a third time; insistent but without anger. He sat up and looked toward the source of the sound and his eyes widened a bit in fear. A tall young woman stood there; but not there, since he realized he was no longer in his bed at home, but sitting on the ground in the middle of a darkly lit courtyard. The woman made no other attempt to speak, but she made a motion of beckoning as she turned and pointed with her other hand.

“Lo Spirito del Natale Ancora a Venire?” It amazed him that he could recall the words, since he hadn’t spoken Italian since his childhood, and then only invectives and curses. The woman nodded. The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come.

“Are you going to show me what can happen… or what WILL happen?” Even as the words left his mouth he found himself transported to a vaguely familiar place.

* * * * *

“Hey, Mom?” the young man called out as he walked in the door; the white dog preceding him with a yip. The woman on the couch looked up from the papers she held, her face etched with fatigue and sadness.

“Oh…Paul, honey. When you were at the doctor, did they happen to give you a packet?” She put her head down to hide her sad frown, forgetting for a moment that her son was unable to see her expression. He knew anyway.

“Yeah…He said everything you need for the…” His voice trailed off.

“It’s okay, hon…” A voice came from beside him as his other favorite Mom kissed him on the cheek, accepting the thick envelope from him.

“Why don’t you go lie down before dinner, okay? Your mom and I need to talk.” She kissed his cheek once again before walking over and sitting down next to her spouse.

“Hey, babe. Why don’t you take a break from that?” Becca went to take the paperwork from Roberta’s hands, but the woman grasped them tightly.

“I’ve got to finish this…we can’t even...we don’t have the money for the plaque…” Roberta stammered before falling into her partner’s arms, sobbing. The woman held her close; her own tears added to the sadness of the home. Only Pauly remained silent; he felt that he had cried enough, and that crying now would only add more grief to his parents. He sighed.

“What happened to the little girl?” Al tried to step closer to the boy sitting on his bed, but the woman put her arm out, barring his way. The dog lay on a small rug next to the boy’s bed. She lifted her head and growled before turning and nudging the boy’s shin.

“I know, Nina …I….” the careful attention of the dog gave him permission to grieve. He put his head down….

On that wonderful day I dreamt of
In that world that I wanted to see
Was a wonderful girl who gave me so much hope
As she held out her hand for me
On a wonderful winter evening
Where my wish might have come true some way
But instead we are lost without all hope
Crying here today

Pauly fell back and buried his face in his pillow and wept. The dog jumped up on the bed and nuzzled the boy’s cheek and whimpered.

“We’ll make a way somehow…we always do.” Becca said, almost trying to convince herself as much as her partner. Roberta continued to weep despite the comfort from Becca’s soft assuring voice. Becca patted her back softly….

Our beautiful girl who had blessed our hearts
Still resides in our hearts today….

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Al looked into the cold stare of the woman and noticed that she was crying; a very odd but still frightening expression as he realized the woman wasn’t crying only for the family. She pointed at the two women and shook her head. The two seemed to fade away, but really it was Al and the Spirit who were turning to vapor…

Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery...sometime later...
 

“He didn’t leave me anything,” a man said as he threw a large bag of flour on a table next to a big mixer.

“Still, he did me a favor.” The man laughed and the tall woman next to him turned and faced him with a quizzical look; her expression asked the unspoken question.

“Favor…oh yeah…he died!” The man laughed again. A moment later Al and the woman were standing in the midst of a group of people standing around; mulling was the word they used to use.

“Can you believe it? We got the day off? I’m just gonna stay home and maybe get some wrapping done,” a woman said.

“I still got a lotta shoppin’ to do,” another woman said with a frown.

“Well, we’re gonna get paid even if we don’t go.” The younger man smiled and pointed to the bulletin board, where a lonely piece of paper seemed to stick out.

“The Bakery will be closed until next Monday.” He said with a soft laugh.

“The funeral ain’t until Saturday! Pretty nice of him!” He smiled broadly and the rest of the people started clapping in agreement.

“Way to go, Pete! Tell it like it ain’t!”

“Hey, Kenny…ESS TEE EFF YOU!” He laughed and everyone else started to laugh along with him. He climbed up on a pile of pallets and took a bow…. Guys..Girls…anybody in between?

Peter Kapusta -

Thank you very much!
Thank you very much!
That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me
It isn't every year
Stuff actually works right here
I never thought that things would ever work for me
And if I had a air horn I would blow it
To add a pretty decent f’n touch?
But since I don’t have an f’n horn
I'll simply have to say
Thank you very, very, very much

“They seem to be pretty happy…more fun than I ever remember them having.” He turned to the woman who shook her head before pointing to the bulletin board. Al stepped closer and peered at the paper that had garnered so much attention moments before. His eyes widened as he read,

To honor Al’s memory, Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery will be closed until next Monday. I’d really appreciate some company at the funeral since Fredo has been a decent kid with us, but I understand if you don’t want to attend. Al gave us all jobs, and that’s pretty good in a recession, but do what you think is best. Signed, Lou Abendando, Shop Steward, IBT 917

“What? I don’t understand?” He mewled. The woman shook her head and pointed to a newspaper clipping.

…Alphonso “Al” Tirchio, 68, of Staten Island, President and founder of Martino and Tirchio Italian Bakery…

Al turned to the spirit; almost pleading. She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears once again.

“Tell me this doesn’t have to happen. Tell me I can fix things with me…I gotta be able to do something that….I’ve been such a fucking stubborn bastard. I can change. Really…I can. There must be something I can do.” He fell to the ground and knelt in front of the woman; his arms wrapped around her legs.

“Please…I’ll do anything….Dear god in heaven I’ll do anything!” Things began to fade again, and as Al seemed to slip out of conciousness, he noticed something peculiar that escaped his attention...the young woman Spirit looked very familiar, but in his haze he couldn't figure out just whom the Spirit resembled....

Next: La Fine di Tutto!

Beautiful Day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=2xvSkh...

Thank You Very Much
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hy5gZlYZHw