[elfiedawn]: 164.Christmas Card Picture Perfect

Christmas Card Picture Perfect

   Carol took a deep breath as she stepped outside. She loved the smell of pine. A burst of shatter-high laughter from behind caused her to wince, and pull the glass door shut behind her. The deck was covered with snow, as were the wooden benches along the railing. Brushing snow off of one of the benches, she sat down and stared out at the beautiful scene before her. It wasn't sunset quite yet, but the sun had started heading down, and in the mountains sunset came earlier. Carol felt sad to see the sun go. Not because she wished the day to last forever, by no means, that would have been torture, but because of the cold its leaving would bring. Usually Carol liked the cold, she had always figured that it beat sweating, but the cold in the mountains could grow deathly, and there were clouds heading in. The weather man had said that by morning another foot or two would cover the ground, and that usually meant double for the mountains. He was predicting a blizzard, but Carol was used to these mountains. She'd been in them when a blizzard hit, and the clouds heading for her didn't look like a potential blizzard. She wasn't a native of the region, but all of the important parts of her life so far had been spent up in these mountains. Summer vacations, christmas vacations, spring breaks, and odd weekends in between she'd spent in this very cabin, and in these very woods. She knew the paths better than her way to the market in her own hometown.

   Usually Carol liked the cold, and didn't miss the disappearing sun, instead enjoying its lovely death scene, but tonight was different. Within the cabin at her back, the sacred place she considered her second, or perhaps only home, a nest of vipers wreathed, hissing and striking at eachother. They were all ensconced so comfortably in the living room, a roaring fire in the hearth, glasses of wine in their hands, but the comfortable couches and chairs did nothing to eleviate their uneasiness with eachother, the roaring fire did nothing to thaw the atmosphere of the coldly polite, nor did the wine relax any of them, for none had taken a sip. It was a good vintage, Carol couldn't remember which, simply that her father had approved. So they sat, politely discussing different things, but never fully opening up to the others, and every once in a while one of them would perceive an insult in a phrase or emphasis, and would strike back, starting a covert war which to Carol had been as obvious as hissing cats or growling dogs. Her step-mother would laugh that high, almost breaking laugh of hers, and beg them to behave, and the others would comply as she was their hostess, but only until another imaginary barb passed their way.

   The nest of vipers seated within the cabin was her family. Carol sighed as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountain, then glanced at her watch. 4:45pm. It would only take her two hours to drive down the mountain. She could be at home by seven-thirty. Except... Carol glanced accusingly at the snow clouds slowly moving closer. If she left and it started snowing she could get caught in a snowdrift, her engine could give out, or any other numerous car problems. She was prepared for such an event, but she'd rather spend the night in a warm bed than in a cold backseat waiting for help. So while home tempted her, anywhere away from the people inside would, she supposed she would have to go back inside. Perhaps she could get away with going to bed early, claim a headache, or that the walk earlier had tired her out. Doubtless her step-mother would not believe her excuse, but she would understand. It would be terrible of her to leave her step-mother, Rachel, all alone, trying to keep the peace, but it had not been Carol's idea to invite them all here for Christmas, now had it? To be fair, Rachel had been trying to make her happy, but by doing so she had, in actuality, made Carol extremely unhappy. To desert Rachel, or to face the hissing together with her, it was a tough decision. Carol sighed, then turned to look at the cabin.

   It was picture perfect, framed as it was against trees laden with snow, wearing a snow blanket upon its roof, and with white smoke drifting cheerily from its chimney. It belonged on a post card, Carol thought, or in an ad. The family within it would pose prettily in a picture, and anyone to receive one in their Christmas card would think they must be the perfect family. Her Father's handsomely tanned face would be grinning, his eyes shining with laughter. Her Mother's model-perfect figure would be on display in something tight, but not indecently so, and her face would be composed with a hint of a light smile and a remote warmness in her eyes. Rachel's figure, in contrast, would be clothed loosely, comfortably, and she'd be smiling brightly, not a hint of guile in her eyes. Thomas, or as Father called him, Tommy Boy, would be wearing something expensive and tasteful, his blonde hair shining, his mouth put into its brightest smile, his eyes producing an imperfect echo. She would be standing in the middle wearing something appropriately festive, unlike the light blue sweater and black pants she wore today. There would be a small smile upon her own features, one which bent the lips but allowed no teeth to show, and a hint of warmth in her eyes. Overall she would look reluctantly happy, and somewhat sad. She alone would ruin the picture's message, and create nonconformity by the truth of her expression.

   The glass door slid open, and Carol glanced over her shoulder to find her father coming outside to join her. If she had had to guess, she would have thought Rachel would be the one fleeing, but then she hadn't been inside the cabin for about an hour. Shutting the glass door with a thud, he walked out towards the railway then stopped, surveying the view. "Cold out here," her father remarked, and Carol nodded an acknowledgement of the attempt. "Don't know how you can stand it," he said, and Carol shrugged, wishing in a way that he had not come outside. "It's just as cold in there," she said and he sighed, but seemed to understand. "I don't understand where Rachel got the idea to invite your mom, but once she was set on it I couldn't change her mind." Carol nodded; she knew, and had tried to change her step-mother's mind as well. "I don't suppose it's warmed up any since I came out here?" she asked, knowing that it was unlikely.

   "I don't know, at first it seemed worse, but then Rachel made a pointed hint that maybe we should try to get along, if only for your sake." Carol winced. It sounded like a bad line from a movie and much too cliche, but she knew her step-mom would've meant it. "And did it work?" Her father shrugged, then put his hands on the railing, and leaned forward, looking downward. "It seemed to, a bit. They started avoiding all the more dangerous areas at least." He glanced at her out of the corner of his right eye. "I suppose it's the best we can ask of them, Care. At least they're trying." Carol nodded, she'd half expected her father to finish the nickname of Care Bear, but he hadn't. Silence interrupted them, and Carol relaxed into it, her father's next words startling her. "So how are you doing in school?" Carol considered how to answer that, then shrugged. "Ok, I guess. Not as well as I could wish but I'm not flunking out yet." He took a moment to digest this, then continued with, "Know what you want to be yet?" Carol sighed inwardly but didn't let it out, picturing the cloud of breath she'd make and her father's reaction to the sound. "I'm narrowing it down," she said instead, trying to sound positive. If she acted as if nothing was wrong then he would leave her alone, he usually did.

   "So what have you narrowed out?" her father asked, surprising her. He usually didn't pursue these things, seeming to ask them just so as to fulfill his paternal duties, but nothing more. "Well . . ." Carol said slowly, then decided to just list them quickly and get it over with. "I don't want to be a historian, or anything having to do with math which rules out a lot of things such as doctor or nurse, and astronaut," she said with a smile that he returned. "English has always been one of my fortés, and I do like computers . . ." she trailed off, waiting for his reaction. "You should," he grumbled. "You spend enough time on the net as it is. Everytime I call I get a busy signal." Carol looked at her father in surprise. Since when did he call her? "Rachel got a second phone line installed in the house, she didn't tell you?" After her father and step-mother had divorced she'd known without a doubt which one she wanted to go with, and it hadn't been her father. He was always too busy, and if it wasn't work then it was his newest girlfriend. Carol was surprised he hadn't brought her to the family get together, after all her mom always brought her newest toy.

   "No," he said, clearly uncomfortable, "she didn't tell me." This time the silence wasn't so comfortable, and actual laughter could be heard from within the cabin. "Guess we better go in," Carol said, and her father grimaced but nodded. She slid open the door, glancing at everyone sitting around the fire looking happy for once in the evening and felt the warmth inside make her cheeks tingle. Stepping back, she motioned for her father to go in first, but he declined. "You know, I think I'll sit out here for a while. It's so peaceful." Carol nodded, knowing what he meant was he wanted to take a smoke. The tinted glass door painted her father an off color, and she stood there for a minute, knowing he couldn't see her. After a moment more, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply, and blowing white smoke into the cold, clean, pine-scented air. Carol drew the curtains and took a seat on a couch next to Rachel, who put a hand on her knee and asked quietly, "Are you ok?" Carol nodded wordlessly, and her step-mom gave her an understanding smile. Her mom, or at least the woman who had actually birthed her if not raised her, was discussing something inane with Tommy Boy, and Carol felt her lips smile as warmth crept into her. A glance at the white curtain obscuring the deck made her smile dim, but then she smiled all the brighter. Rachel's high glass-shattering laugh sounded, and for once Carol didn't wince.

© elfie 2002