December 4, 2012

• Loretta’s Poinsettia

  Everyone pretty much knows what the Poinsettia looks like, I think—originally it was a red plant—than white became chic, and now there is a weird array of available shades for any taste but for me? The darned thing should be RED.

  Now I honestly don’t love them. Not the plant’s fault really—just a memory of a long ago Christmas…

  It was my first year in college, my second Christmas without my father, and I felt the need to make it a decent holiday. Dad had died the week before Thanksgiving the year before and the last Christmas had been heartbreaking. I had begun a new life—so it was time for something different.

  I baked cookies in the Dorm Kitchen the week before school ended, and I had saved my “wild” money for the week I would spend home. There was something called “Intersession” in January—where I could take courses for credits, so I knew my holiday break would be brief. But I had one hundred dollars to spend—and THAT was big money in 1978—at least to me.

  Twenty went to cover my Amtrak ticket…but I still had 80 dollars, less ten for travel back—buses, etc. I got home around 4 o’clock—to find my brother waiting with coffee. In our house, we started drinking coffee at about five, so it was THE beverage of choice. We made small talk—and then Brian dropped his bomb….

  “I bought Beverly a ring—so there’s no Christmas presents this year.”

  I looked at him.

  Presents from Brian could be a scary thing…he had some odd ideas about employment. One year he gave us all checks…but we knew better than to cash them. It was not worth the charges and fees when they bounced like a Spaulding pink all over the place. But I knew one thing. I could live without a present…but Loretta? Our mother?

  I could have presented her with the Hope Diamond—my sister could have given her the deed to San Simeon in California—and the present Loretta would always love best would be the coffee mug Brian bought her as an after thought in a local Quickee Mart. He did buy her nice things sometimes—but in general, you knew that no matter how well thought the present, Brian would win…because he was Brian.

  Parents claim not to play favorites. Some may even try. But in our house, Brian was it. I knew that Loretta would go apeshit if Brian did nothing for her for Christmas…and it boded badly for me and my holiday.

  “Oh yeah…and Bev and I are going away the day after Christmas.”

  Oh ****.

  So he was not only going to make my mother nuts—he was going to leave her alone with me after he did. Ho ho ho—MERRY CHRISTMAS! This called for drastic action—but Brian got up, grabbed his keys and left…discussion over.

  Oh ****.

  Now in 1978, owning a credit card was a far off distant dream.
  I had a checkbook—but the checks were an out of town bank—and it was after 3pm, the day before Christmas Eve.
  Back then, that meant no money…not that I had any extra in my account at school. I tapped it for my holiday money. There were also no cash machines, and no way to get any. I worked my way through college—and sent my mother a check every month to help out. It wasn’t lot…but I knew she had no extra either…and even if she did—I couldn’t ask her for this.

  I went into planning mode. How to come up with a present from Brian—something suitably flashy that i could obtain at the last minute, without a car? My mother had also left me a long list of last minute chores. The next day we would all gather for the “Family Holiday”, and I had my work cut out for me.

  Understand—this was seriously weird. Mom not only loved Brian, she HATED his girlfriend. He had made it clear that the ring he bought was not for an engagement—the only silver lining in the deal. When she heard he spent ALL his Christmas dough on THAT WOMAN? I shuddered. Don’t even go there…Now in Hallmark cards, and nifty fiction, parents don’t get mad at everyone for the actions of one child.

  Sadly, my life came from another place. So I had to “fix” this one. So with a heavy heart, i dedicated 25 dollars of my vacation cash to the “secret gift fund” I would still have 50—so it was not dire…and I decided to call a florist. They DELIVERED. So with that plot in mind, I made some dinner for mom and I, determined to call first thing in the morning Case solved.

  The best laid plans of desperate daughters…

  The next morning, I woke…to find my mother in tears over a cup of cold coffee. Brian strikes again. The litany lasted ten minutes—about Bev, her nasty habits, the fact that it was ALL HER FAULT, the slut…. but Mom had to get to work, so she dried her eyes, put on makeup, and left for the branch. I now knew what I had only feared…my holiday was in red light danger of turning to ****.

  No sooner was she out the door, when I grabbed the yellow pages. The first florist just laughed at me. All their stock was bought and paid for. The second suggested that if at the end of the day, anything was left MAYBE they could rube goldberg something. Could I risk a week with Loretta in wild woman mode on a maybe? I could not.

  Finally one must have heard the desperation in my voice…he said “Well, we have one thing left…but it’s expensive…and rather large.”

  “How expensive?”

  “Fifty dollars.” he said.
  OUCH.
  CRINGE.
  and at last…”Ok. Can you bring it—I will pay the man cash at the door?”

  The florist agreed.

  Three hours later, I was throwing garland on the tree when the knock came at the door.

  The man was not kidding.

  I have NEVER seen a plant that big in my life. Even wrapped in florist paper, it filled the Hallway. I could not even see the delivery guy behind it—who was trying hard to hold on to that monster…I paid him, and added three dollars for a tip…what did it matter now? My holiday wild money was down to 20 bucks….and it was going to be a QUIET holiday indeed. But at least Loretta would not be nuts.

  It took me five minutes to manuever that monster up the stairs…it was HEAVY. I knew under the paper, there was a huge bow—and a card that read…

  “I could not forget you for Christmas…Much Love, Brian”

  I had briefly thought of making it from both of us…but you would have to know my mother to understand it. Unless it was from Brian alone, it would not count. Whole hog or none…

  My mother dragged up the stairs about an hour later…I smiled when I heard the intake of breath in the dining room. The pot was in the center of the table, and as I walked in, she was very carefully unwinding the plant.

  JESUS.

  There were TEN good sized Poinsetta in that pot…and they spread beautifully when freed of the floral wrap. Mom found the card, and undid it with shaking fingers—-then she stood there and wept…Brian had come through after all. I wanted to strangle him, actually…but I had done this for my sake as well.

  When my brother arrived for Christmas Eve, I grabbed him before he got upstairs.. and whispered…

  “JUST GO ALONG WITH IT you *******, or I will strangle you with the Holly rope…I swear I will.”

  (Not quite a Hallmark Christmas wish…but I was under the gun.)

  I will give him credit…Aside from being shocked with the size of the thing, you would never have known Brian had nothing to do with it. Mom cried all over him, thanked him, then made a bee line for the phone to call the sisters. He never thanked me—since he had not asked me to do a damned thing. That was ok.

  I had done it for me I guess—but I also did it for Loretta. I might not have understood why she had such a connection to my brother—and I still do not. But I selfish aside, I could not stand to see her holiday ruined by the one person with the power to make it shine.

  The visit was ok. I saw my friends for coffee in the village, and when the holiday was over, made my way back to school.
  The last thing I saw was mom sitting at the table—with a cup of coffee and a smile…looking at the Poinsettia. And for years after, it was her boasting story…the huge plant Brian had thought to get her.

  I never told her where it really came from. She would not have believed me anyway. And I do not decorate with poinsettias. Something about them makes me sad. This year I will see my mother for the first Christmas in five years. She is 80…and living with Brian and his family. We have lost the acid that so long etched the glass between us, and that’s a good thing.

  But I never will forget the Christmas of Loretta’s Poinsettia…

  • 5:11 pm
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