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Another Christmas Carol

Part Three - Lo Spirito del Natale Il Presente

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by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

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Previously...Al Tirchio's home, Staten Island, Christmas Eve...The Spirit of Christmas Past had revealed a moment in time to Al for which he felt nothing but shame...
 

Al stood as the boy walked away from the window and fell down face first on the couch in the living room of his old home. The boy began to weep as Al stood over him.

"One - Twelve?" He shook his head lazily; his exhaustion proved to be too much and he fell immediately into a deep sleep.
 

Al had settled into a near-twilight sort of dream. He was about to savor a very fine looking Vitella ala Marsala when a very loud buzzing filled his ears, causing him to drop the forkful of veal. A moment later he sat up as Judy Garland lamented about a merry little Christmas. Two AM!

He opened his eyes to a glare of brilliantly colored light that streamed underneath his bedroom door from the hallway. He got up and walked slowly down the hall to the kitchen from whence the light emanated. He covered his brow and peered past the glare to see very attractive mature woman sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of cocoa.

“Come in, Alphonso….” She laughed; her voice seemed a bit low and husky. “Come in and know me better.” Al looked once again at the woman as the light seemed to dim a bit. She was not just attractive, but seemed to exude sophistication and charm. He smiled at her almost like a teenager who had fallen in love with his English Lit teacher. Something spoke to his heart and he immediately set aside any idea of foolish infatuation and put his head down.

“Go ahead, Al…look at me.” She said softly. He raised his head slightly and his gaze fell upon her face; a kind and welcoming look that spoke of wonder and sadness and sorrow and joy and strength and peace.

“I am the Spirit of Christmas Present.” Al nodded almost absentmindedly before putting his head down once again, but not before noticing her garb. She wore what looked like the most comfortable cardigan ever made; its cable knit seemed to be infused with silver along with a similarly assembled scarf that wound around her neck and shoulders. Her nearly white hair shone like spun wool and her eyes sparkled with wisdom and love.

“You’ve never seen anyone like me, have you, Al?” She laughed softly; of course he hadn’t nor would he ever again.

“You might have seen one or two or several of my sisters; I have almost two thousand, you know?” Al tried to do some math in his head but in the end gave up and accepted her claim as true.

“I guess you’re supposed to take me around and show me stuff about myself, right?”

“Well, in a way, your question in a way is an answer to it as well; your preoccupation with self is why I have come to you this night, Signore Tirchio!” Her rebuke was tempered by that same soft laugh that he would find both endearing and convicting; a gentle way of showing him how wrong he was about life.

“So what if I look out for myself. Everybody does it!” Al had missed the one class in his Freshman year at college where Psychology 101 talked about projection. The Spirit shook her head no like a mom correcting her teenage son. It certainly made sense in a way since she was centuries older than him even though she was born that day.

“I am here to show you that life doesn’t always have to be about you, my dear boy!” She laughed again and he went to speak but she put her hand up.

“Shh…time enough for questions once we’re underway. Grab my sleeve,” she said and offered her arm to him; the sleeve extended well beyond her hand and he grabbed the wool and squeezed tightly. In a second they were off….to somewhere…

Cateret, New Jersey...

“I don’t recognize this house.” He said as they alit in the driveway next to minivan.

“Follow me,” the Spirit beckoned him and they walked up to and through the front door of the townhome. They stepped past an empty stroller and walked through a short hallway into the kitchen, finding two women sitting at the table. He didn’t recognize the older of the two, but the younger woman was very familiar.

“That’s Angela…my nephew’s wife!” he nearly shouted. He put his hand over his mouth, frightened that he had revealed himself. The Spirit turned to him and smiled.

“They cannot hear you, Al. You are but a spectre to them as am I.” She used her hand to point to herself and then him; they seemed almost transparent next to the two women.

“And yes, Al…I know of Angela and of all the pain and sadness she and Fredo have had to face over the past few years. But listen to her…be quiet and quiet yourself inside and listen to the girl.” She used her hand in a broad gesture to indicate the conversation before them.

“It’s a miracle, Mommy. Dr. Leparulo says that I’m cancer free. I’m so…happy.” She began to cry and Al looked at the Spirit in puzzlement.

“She says she’s happy but she’s weeping. I don’t understand.”

“Those are tears of joy Al. Listen!” The Spirit raised her hand to quiet him as the older woman spoke.

“Your Dad will be thrilled, honey. You’re due right around our anniversary, you know? The...the same time of the year Sophia was born...”

She looked down the hallway at the empty stroller, now ready once again after so much time of disuse in the garage. She sighed deeply and choked back a sob. The woman didn’t look like anyone Al knew...she didn't even resemble her daughter, truth be told, but her voice seemed to recall a time in Al’s life that he had sooner wished to forget. The soft, kind tones of the woman reminded him of someone he had long forsaken. She spoke again.

“I’m …I’m so sorry…” The woman began to echo her daughter as she started to cry.

“It’s okay…Mommy…I’m alive and I’m going to have your first...your next grandchild." She crossed herself and looked up as if to pray before continuing.

"She’ll be okay with formula… it’s a disappointment, but I’m going to live to a ripe old age and see the birth of my own grandchildren, God willing.” She looked down at her chest; the evidence of her recent surgery had ceased to become a cruel reminder of what she lacked since she and Fredo had embraced the grace of what a blessing their baby would become.

“She’s…so…peaceful. I don’t understand. She’s lost so much!” Al turned back and stared at the older woman.

“Fredo and I prayed about it, Mommy, and we want to name her after you…. Mary Grace, okay?” Angela said with a smile. Her mother put her head down and began to sob. The girl reached across the table and lifted the woman’s chin.

“Mommy…You have nothing to be ashamed of…nothing.” Her hand caressed the woman’s cheek as she carefully touched her tears.

“I...I know. It’s just that things are…well, you know…much different than I could ever have dreamed. Especially since….” She put her head down and began sob once again.

“Mommy, please. You’re the best mother I could have ever asked for. When you and Daddy brought me home? It was like God answered my prayers just exactly how I asked.”

“But…” The woman looked down at herself. She shook her head as if she had failed an inspection.

“But nothing. I don’t care how you started; even if everybody else thought you were a boy, you knew better. You just did what you had to do. And Daddy?” She looked over her mother’s shoulder and smiled. A deep voice seemed to sing to them both.

“And I fell in love with you,” He said as he stepped close and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“You made me the happiest man in the world, Mary Grace Attanasio”

"Mary Grace Perillo Attanasio, Daddy!" Angela smiled at her father and he nodded. He smiled and kissed Mary's lips gently; her face grew hot both with embarrassment and shame before settling into her usual reluctant self-acceptance. Even after all these years it was still hard for Mary to forget that part of her life.

“That man…he reminds me of someone. He looks awfully familiar.” Al said, shaking his head. A second later his eyes widened in shock and recognition.

“I love you so much, Ricky Attanasio!” She practically sobbed. Angela reached over and grabbed her mother’s hand and squeezed gently. Al looked back and forth between their faces and what had already become a surprising time became illuminating as well. Ricky Attanasio; an erstwhile toady and bully who had grown a backbone and a heart. But that was just the beginning.

“Mary Perillo? Marco didn’t have a sister. Is that his cousin? I know he had a girl cousin over in Queens.” Al looked at the Spirit. She smiled and shook her head no before using her eyes to direct Al’s attention to the woman sitting next to her daughter and her husband. His eyes widened once again.

“NO…it can’t be!” He protested. Even now it was all about his beliefs; his perceptions and his world view intruded upon the moment like the bully he himself had become.

“And why not, Al? Why can’t Mary have a life filled with hope? Why can’t she have love and happiness? Is it really all up to you? What is it about life that you can’t stand?.......”

Alphonso Tirchio?
Your sins, you see, are great
A recipe of neglect
Of disdain and lack of respect
Overlooking others’ need
Failing once again to heed
Tirchio has no rival
In needing a heart revival
In being destined for doom
Unless he finally makes some room?

Where there's giving and loving
Joyfulness is rife
Why?
Because we love life!

* * * * *

And moments later...in Kearny, New Jersey...

Al looked around and was amazed to see that they were in the living room of yet another home Two women sat on a couch; rather one sat at the end and the other lay her head in the other’s lap. A few minutes later they were seated at the dining room table.

“It’s really wonderful that you got the day off. I'm so thankful for that job of yours. I'm sorry for my lousy attitude, Bert, and I thought I'd ever utter the following, but God bless Alphonso Tirchio," the petite woman said as she passed a large bowl of carrots to the woman across the table.

"That's...Roberta...Crocetti...my accountant!" Al exclaimed. He caught himself and quieted down. The Spirit smiled warmly at his efforts to be in tune with what he was observing; an attitude to be sure, since they could neither be seen nor heard by the family before them. A girl of about four or so handed a platter of meat to the woman next to her.

"Here, Momma Becca. And Mommy Berta, may I have the carrots, please?" She smiled at both women.

"Of course, honey. And you know Nana C made her special sausage stuffing just for you?" Roberta asked even as her mother walked in from the kitchen, accompanied by a boy of about twelve.

"Pauly, I've got a seat next to me, okay?"the little girl said enthusiastically. The boy nodded in acknowledgement before walking to the table; his hand stretched out to the girl. She grabbed it gently and led him next to her.

"Mom, would you give the blessing?" Roberta said as she grabbed Pauly's hand. She reached over and grabbed Becca's hand; a smile brightened her already happy expression before she bowed her head. The older woman sat down between Becca and the little girl.

Only if Kaylee can give me some help, she said as she turned to the girl next to her.

"Okay, Nana..." Tischa Crocetti joined her granddaughter as they both spoke,

Bless this food, O...oh God that we are about to eat?" the little girl looked at her grandmother for approval before they all said in unison, "Amen!"

It was only just then that Al noticed the boy reaching almost blindly in front of him.

"Sorry, Pauly...glass of root beer at twelve o'clock!" Becca said and the boy located the glass. He picked it up and drank some before turning to his right.

"I really like root beer, Kaylee, don't you?" A simple declaration, but from an older brother to a little sister, it was like a blessing to the girl.

"Oh, yes!" She practically beamed at the attention.

"I don't get it. This family...look at the boy. Why is everybody so f...why is everybody so happy?" He began to blush as he turned to the Spirit and noticed that she had her head bowed in prayer. She spoke quietly to herself before facing Al.

"They know what's important, Al. Look at the little girl. She dotes on her brother. Look at the two women...they love each other more than anything in the world. What do they lack, Al? What can it be that they're missing?" She turned and faced the family.

"I...They look like they don't need a thing? I just don't get it. They don't have much and yet they're..." Al frowned in frustration; unable to find a word to describe the scene...a word that wasn't really part of his vocabulary.

"Joyful, Al...beyond happy." The Spirit smiled at him; instruction instead of correction.

"What's the difference? I don't understand!"

"Being happy often depends on circumstances. Being joyful is an act of will to rejoice in spite of the circumstances or even in the midst of circumstances."

"So..." Al looked at the family and back at the Spirit.

"Yes, Al...no matter how much money you have...no matter what status or what friends or what connections you have, you'll always be unhappy because you'll never be satisfied. But you can choose to be joyful like these dear ones here." She smiled at him again and used her eyes to direct his attention to the boy.

"We can take Nina out for a walk after dinner. Would you like to hold his harness for me?"

"Can I...Momma Becca? Mommy Berta? Can I help Pauly walk Nina?" The little girl looked back at the dog; a very content white Alsatian that chewed happily on her rope toy. Both women nodded.

"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."

"She's sick?"

"Deathly ill, and nothing to be done except wait and hope and pray." The Spirit sighed as tears came to her eyes, but not just for the girl. Her gaze fell upon the two mothers.

"They hope and pray and love the little girl and love each other. And they love their son."

"He's blind...can there be...How...Is there any hope?"

"There is always hope, Al, so long as there is faith and love. And this family has both in abundance, as you've probably noticed." She sighed in frustration; not at the lack of the family, for they had none that mattered in the long run. She sighed for Al's sake.

"I...don't want to see any more. Do we have to stay?" He put his head down; while he wished to leave, his heart seemed to be pulling from side to side as pain flowed throughout his body. But it wasn't physical so much as his conscience warring with itself...

Pauly -

Then the beautiful day that I dream about
Would be here and now *

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.

Next: Lo Spirito del Natale Ancora a Venire

I Like Life
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-db41jTAn4&feature=related

Beautiful Day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xvSkhI5X04