December 2021 Christmas Holidays Story Contest Entry

Christmas Canon

I enjoyed working, more than being anywhere else—other than my quarterly trip to Nashville—and if the rent in the only apartment complex in town wasn’t twice what I made in a month and if it didn’t have a cockroach issue three hundred and sixty-two point five days, I move out of the shadow of my parents and start again. However, it had never been in the cards for me to win the Tennessee Lottery.
“There’s always Mr. Thomas’ grandson,” I thought to myself as I pulled my motorcycle into the driveway, past my parent’s SUV and another mid-size car with rental plates and into the carport. It was Seth’s 2016 Nakaruru and he had deliberately given me a key before he deployed on what was his final mission:

“Two things,” he said as he cinched up his bag.
“What?”
“Three, actually.”
“Okay.” I replied as I laughed a little at the pink in his hair. He was so going to be reprimanded by a high-ranker or something.
“One, don’t let Adam boss you around. It’s not his house.”
I bit my lip but nodded. Seth reached into his pocket.
“Two, if my ass is toasted, you, Nikki, you will take this key and call my baby your own.”
“Your bike? Seriously?”
“Only if I’m like splattered all over the middle east. Because I swear that even if I’m a quadriplegic, if I can at least turn it on, I will ride it when I get back.”
He dropped the key in my hand and my fingers curled around it. I then looked at his face—he showed no emotion. I guess that was our family way—no visible emotions—but he could see that I was failing in the “stiff upper lip” department and any make-up I had on was all over my face.
“Come here,” he said as he dropped his bag to hug me.
Had I known it would be the last time, I would never have let him go.
“Lastly, always be who you are, Nikki,”
“I will, Seth, thank you."

Two days after we received the call form the Department of Defense, mom demanded that I sell the motorcycle and I told her--three hours later, after I had gained my composure once again about possibly losing a piece of my brother’s memory, I informed her that it was now my bike and I held the key out like it was an academy award.

The bike was in mint condition as Seth had it stored in a climate-controlled warehouse. The maroon finish had an almost pink look in the light and there was a moment that I thought he had either bought it for me specifically, to annoy mom and dad or, perhaps most likely, to piss-off Adam. I kept it in pristine condition the best I could, nearly crushing my leg when I went down, placing myself between the bike and road. In hindsight, Seth would have lightly berated like a drill sergeant, but he would have also said: “it’s just a tool. A sexy and powerful tool, but, still.”

“Nikki?” Mom asked as I opened the side door.
“Yes, mom.”
“Hey!” A voice yelled and a long shadow loomed in from the kitchen. Daniel took a step into the hallway, and it took me a moment to recognize him as he had a beard that would rival the Robertson clan.
“Daniel, good to see you,” I replied as I walked closer. I was about to shake his hand but instead, he leaned in, grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me off the floor.
“Hey, Lena!”
“Yes, Danny” a female voice asked.
“Come here. No wait, I’ll bring her to you.”
Daniel swung me up—like I was still eight or something—and then lowered me down in front of a very long and tall woman, Lena.
“So, you’re the one I hear so much about?”
“Depends on what you’ve heard,” I replied as I unzipped my jacket in order to adjust everything I had in my inside pockets, which promptly fell out and onto the floor.
Lena kneeled to help and whispered to me: “I’ve heard you got a mean right hook.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer so I just shrugged my shoulders as we continued to pick up my pens, server wallet and phone.
“Danny, you said you’d take me Cracker Barrel.”
“I’ll take you anywhere want to go, as long as it doesn’t rhyme with Barfu—”
“Daniel Lee Armitage!” Mom warned as she lightly slapped his wrist with a wooden spoon.

Lena handed me my things. I gave the sign of “one second” and quickly moved down the hallway to my room. I almost slammed the door in my rush to close and lock it. As much as I wanted to see my brother and ask when he decided to go lumberjack I also knew that if Daniel was there then it was only going to be a matter of time before Adam arrived. Maybe I could just live at the restaurant for the week.
I asked—only once—why Adam didn’t stay in a hotel room? I mean, he could get a room on his name alone: he had saved Mr. Thomas from drowning after a bad attempt at ice skating. Reverend Al was almost to give his own version of last rites when Adam jumped into the water and not only saved Mr. Thomas, but also one of his grandsons. After that, Adam could do know wrong; Daniel was expected to follow in his footsteps, Seth was to look up to him, and I was to sit with my eyes aglow at the gift that was my older brother. So, yeah, he could have whatever he wanted from the town so, why not stay for a week at the Drury Inn?
Dad shot back: “We don’t force family to live in isolation!”
Funny, because that’s what happened to me when Adam came home, isolation.
Also, the hotel was next to my job.

Christmas Canon By Trans-Siberian Orchestra