I wrote this last year and over the summer had the fantastic chance to work with Marion Reynolds (A solider's wife) to edit and re-think the story. Enjoy and if you know, someone who'd like it, please share!
A very Alternative Christmas
It was already getting dark and Mary was sick to the teeth of listening to them ringing in to tell Joe their woes and comparing their broken nail problems to the plight of real sorrow, the kettle was nearly boiled, it was definitely time for tea.
She stared out the window, wondering if being a tough and independent woman, rearing tough and independent children was all it was cracked up to be.
The two were off on their own now, doing their own thing as she had vigorously taught them to do, loving their own families and not caring about their mother, as she, that mother made sure they would do!
Maybe that plan back fired a little? For ten years now, Mary had lived on her own and had gotten very used to it, she loved her husband, but her days spent in the solitary confinement, living a life of prams, school collections and meals became an advantage. The transition to widowhood wasn't hard but now the humiliation of being dragged down to the Community Hall, to be paraded with others deemed as "needy" and fed like cattle from a trough was her main problem.
As she reached for the tea canny, she peered out the window, she could see that goddamn cat. He was around yesterday as well and she surprised herself, when she hit it with the cracked cup from under the sink. A fine sound rang out when she walloped the thing on the head.
There it was again, wandering around, calling for a mother that was probably flattened by a speeding car. How pathetically frail it looked, how pathetic she was herself, redundant, praying for a happy death and a very quick Community Christmas dinner! As she put the teabag in the cup, she recalled last years dinner.
It was horrible, Mary arrived in with her best clothes on, but oh no, that wasn’t good enough, a young girl, who looked as she had industrial braces for her teeth latched on to Mary like a leech and wouldn’t let go.
Eventually, Mary had to surrender and was left brandishing a cheap and tacky “Christmas Jumper” and paper hat, she was then plonked down, next to country farmers who have never looked in the mirror, loved only their mother and ate like prisoners.
Trying desperately to keep their teeth in some sort of position and Mary was left there, to her own devises, trying to understand the old boys, who were also jumpered!
After dinner, the chubby, red-haired, O'Sullivan boy sang exhausted country and western songs, as Mary clapped and smiled, she thought to herself, “That fella, could be doing something better for himself, rather than singing to a crowd of deaf Granny’s!”
After the entertainment, came the bloody raffle, where every senior citizen won either a bucket of talcum powder or a pint of fowl smelling perfume, or a mixture of both, it seemed to scream out “ we’d rather power hose you, than ever have to engage with you intellectually.
After the humiliation of the raffle, Mary thought, she could slink away with her gallon of Tweed, but oh no, there was three hours of Bingo to go yet!
The worst part of the whole day was Joan Bradshaw, three years behind Mary in school and acting like a teenager, dressed up like a pop star, only thing giving her away was it looked as if she padded her bra with something strange and deflated.
Mary could never put her finger on the one thing that annoyed her about Joan, why would anyone take over her head so much? Joan was stuck in every committee, campaign and charity, helping this craytor to do that and that Craytor to do this-always a sign of a sexless and unhappy marriage.
It is with the country and western singer, her husband would rather want to be with for a night.
Could it be the gushing, the emotion, the speeches and the grandiose way of telling everyone of all the time, money and energy she spent looking after everyone was the main problem? You'd swear she was Bob Geldof himself feeding fecking Africa, for Christ's sake.
Or maybe the way her speeches always ended with all her frustrated sidekicks, clapping themselves into an other worldly oblivion, some of them even crying, a good ride would sort them all out!
As Mary tried to shake Joan out of her head, she went to get the milk from the fridge, she gave in and left a saucer of milk outside the door, for that rotten kitten, the vermin tried to coax his way in, rubbing his way around her legs, she tossed him across the yard with her foot and watched as he rolled across the gravel, as she closed the door, her mind slipped right back to her ordeal.
For five hours, she was trapped in that damp hall, with industrial noisy, smelly heaters, to be dumped at her own dark door, without one person actually talking to her or treating her like a person. They only smiled stupidly at her and took photos with her, as if she was a deserted donkey.
She consoled herself with the thought, “I suppose they mean well, but they just don’t get it”.
The tea was ready and as she sat by the range, the fire got warmer, the evening got darker and her eyes were getting heavier.
Her breathing got stronger, her eyes got heavier and her body got limper, she was asle…………………………………………
It’s hard to describe how someone gets into a dream, only the dream itself and Mary was there, it took a while, to take in where she was, what she was actually seeing, but soon she was comfortable. Holding her father’s hand, on the road home from Healy’s, she was wearing that red coat that made her feel like a princess, the unique scent of all clothes that popped out of the parcel from America still lingered. How she cried when she grew out of it and had to watch her cousin, now be the princess. it was dark but not scary, all the candles in the windows welcomed any traveller. Her father telling her, “tonight, the seaweed turns to silk, the gravel turns to diamonds and the ocean turns to wine” her mind was racing with the image and wanted to head over the field to the strand, but, dad offered a warning, “no one has seen it and lived to tell the tale” that was that. scene after scene changed to different times in her life, those times in her life when she denied herself everything, if only she knew then, priests were more horny than holy, her life would have be very different. She was at Charring Cross tube station, telling Julian, that she wouldn’t be going to Blackpool with him, as he was a Protestant and could easily compromise her soul. He was devastated and she loved him. She could feel herself rising out of the scene, higher and higher she went, seeing all of London.
Slowly she came through and first noticed, the dribble down her cheek and then she suddenly realised, that bastard of a cat, on her lap!
The tractor like purring was seeming to hypnotise her and unwittingly, her hand was moving closer to stoke his frail, soft and spirited body. With every stroke, a strange kind of feeling filled her, everything seemed possible, her life was hers and if she wanted to be odd, she had every right to be!
Once her plan started to come together there was no stopping her, first, she rang John the Taxi Driver “John, I won't be going tomorrow, thank you” she left the message, a job well done. Next, she’d have to be patient, because…
Jesus, the phone, Mary put on her glasses and looked at the number-it was Geldof herself! How quick the bush telegraph works, or did Joan have Mary's phone bugged?
Mary had to answer otherwise she’d be around with some sidekick, like Batman and Robin, averting this major emergency.
Quick thinking was needed to put an end to this whole sorry saga.
Mary had just said a calm Hello, when Joan Gushed in, like a flash flood of sewer water!
I have to collect Breifne from the bus, he’s going to Belvedere, don’t you know, he was so good at pretending to be homeless, that i’m buying him, a new set of golf club’s
He got a pair last year on his trip to Florida, but the new Barth & Sons set is out and I know he’d like them. but, are you alright, Marie? Why aren’t joining us tomorrow?
Is there anything I can do for you? I just love helping people like you!
No, no, you’re fine, Joan, looking at the cat, I’ve a visitor, just arrived.
Oh, who’s that? Who’s called? They can come along too, don't you know, if they’re not needy, they can just pay €20.
Mary had never played the old lady card before, but decided the devil drives when the needs must.
The forecast is for dry weather and that’s a blessing.
But Mary, who is the visitor?
Sorry Joan, I have to……. Grate the Brussel sprouts, happy Christmas.
But Marie, who?
Mary put down the phone and punched the air, she was free! She found herself rubbing the cat’s head and trying to figure out a name, she can’t keep calling it different obscenities. She now had to plan out, her own Christmas day and would need help, to get things from town and she wasn’t talking turkey.
Sally, the young girl next door, had just turned 18. During the summer Mary had spotted her with a boy, at the turn of the road. Mary had been browsing with her binoculars, she always used her binoculars, but only for security purposes. Sally caught Mary looking and stuck her middle finger up at the spy. Mary knew, that Sally knew, what Mary saw and that was good enough.
She waited til she saw Sally leaving her home and called her over, what a state Sally Looked, black eyes like a Badger, hair styled with lard and more tights than clothes, but they struck up a conversation and a deal was made, Mary knew this bargain would intrinsically link them together for better or worse, it was done.
Christmas morning, Mary woke with Hobbit purring like a Massey Ferguson, wrapped around her head, as if it was what he was born to do and where to be, she turned over for another sleep, what a luxury?
Soon after, she was woken with a belting at the door, she put on her nightgown and slippers and headed to the gateway of her private World, It was Joan! Wearing a jumper, that looked as if Santy vomited it up, after a feed of glitter, curry and drink, yet still not hiding her Pringle boxes and a tin foil type tracksuit bottoms.
Hello Marie, I just can’t help caring about people like you.
With a flash of inspiration, Mary beckoned to be quiet, as the visitor was asleep, which he was.
Oh right, I brought two Christmas dinners, from my own table, As you see, Deirdre was finishing her PhD and…..
Mary took the plates, smiled and thanked Joan, but made a face as if she had no choice, but had to go.
Watching a puzzled yet indifferent Joan getting into her BMW, she gave a great sigh of relief, it was over and Mary had won!
Mary put on the red dress that was about twenty years old, She couldn’t figure out, if it was due to fragility or seize, but she couldn't zip it up to the top, but she had a purple cardigan, that covered up any anomalies, she then pulled out a pair of shoes, that like Cinderella, could easily turn into a walking aid at midnight if she wasn't careful, but didn’t care.
Sally called over, fixed up Mary’s DVD player and put on “Thelma and Louise” Sally also announced she could visit tomorrow and start teaching Mary about the internet, twitter and texting!
Later, that evening, Mary sipped from her glass of blue wicked (she’d rather Baileys, but that was Sally’s idea) and as she studied the pack of Silk cut purple, she saw the big lettering "SMOKING KILLs" she chuckled to herself and whispered "bring it on". She Watched Hobbit gorging himself on the two plates of rubber that Joan had brought. As Mary settled down to eat a yard and a half of After Eights.
She raised her glass and said “Fuck you” to the world and looked forward to two thousand and ………… whatever it is.
The end.
