Twas XXIII: Not So Good To The Last Drop

[The Coop]

It's that time of year once again, where I bombard you with many, many rhymes. It's December 18, which means another "Twas" has arrived. So grab a drink, take a pee if you have to, and let's do this...

 

Twas XXIII: Not So Good To The Last Drop

by
The Coop

Twas the night before Christmas,
and things were not well.
The house was filled with
Yukon Jack's familiar smell.

Tara sat in her room
without making a sound.
She just sat on her bed
and looked sadly around

at the room she'd called home
for the last eighteen years;
her vision a bit blurred
due to the building tears.

A duffel bag filled with
all the clothes she could put
into it quickly,
rested beside her right foot.

As she sat quietly,
she thought of how the day
had started out just fine,
yet ended up this way.

She had gone to the mall
with her old friend Sophie.
They'd been walking about
and acting so carefree

after they'd had some lunch
and went from store to store,
looking at clothes, CDs,
DVDs and much more.

It was as they passed by
where the mall's Santa was,
that they saw how all the
kids in line were abuzz

with excitement as they
waited for their turn to
ask Santa for a present;
maybe, even two.

“Let's get in line,” Sophie said,
a smile on her face.
“Say what?” Tara chuckled.
“We'd be so out of place

“standing with those kids
that are already in line.”
“Oh come on,” Sophie laughed.
“Let's go. It'll be fine.”

With a sigh, Tara was soon
being dragged along,
as the mall echoed with
that familiar old song

of Rudolph the reindeer
who had a bright red nose.
“You hyped?” Sophie asked.
Tara replied, “I suppose.”

“That's the spirit,” Sophie grinned
as she shook her head.
The two of them then got
into the line that lead

to the wintry scene
where Santa and an elf were.
And the next half hour
became something of a blur

as the children's chattering
continued non-stop
and drowned out the noises
from any nearby shop.

Soon, Tara and Sophie
were the next two in line.
“Got your ideas?” Sophie asked.
“Cuz I've got mine.”

“You're way too into this,”
Tara said with a smirk.
Sophie stuck out her tongue with,
“Don't wreck my fun, jerk.”

They shared a laugh before
Santa's elf came up to
Sophie and asked flatly,
“Seriously you two?”

“Yep!” Sophie smiled.
“I'm here to see Santa and see
if he'll get your friends
to make something nice for me.”

The elf rolled his eyes with
a muttered, “Fine. Let's go.
Just please behave, huh?
There are children here you know.”

“I'm not that bad,” Sophie
grinned. “Well, usually.”
The elf let out a sigh with,
“C'mon. Follow me.”

Tara watched as Sophie
went to Santa and sat
across the man's lap
and had a very short chat

with him about how she'd
been good most of the year
and how all she wanted
was to give him good cheer.

She then kissed him on the cheek
and smiled at the man,
which made him smile warmly;
as only a kiss can.

She then got up and left
and moved off to the side
with a silly smile
that she didn't try to hide.

“Your turn,” the elf said
as he neared where Tara stood.
“I'll behave too,” she grinned.
The elf replied, “That's good.”

It wasn't long before
she had reached Santa's chair,
clearly feeling awkward
as she was standing there.

“Hello there young lady,”
Santa smiled up at her.
“Would I be out of line
if I was to infer

“that the woman I just
spoke with came here with you?
If I'm right, are you going
to kiss my cheek too?”

With a small chuckle and smile,
“No,” Tara replied.
With a smile of his own,
“Then feel free to confide

“in me what it is that
you'd like to get this year.”
When she gave no response,
“Tell me, what's your name, dear?”

“It's Tara,” she said
as she continued to stand
next to Santa's chair as
he gently took her hand.

“Well Tara,” he smiled,
“what is it that you'd like to
have created by my skilled
and handy elf crew?”

Tara said nothing at first,
but her attention
was quickly pulled away
by the cries of someone.

She looked around and saw
a woman on one knee,
next to a little girl
who was looking sadly

at the doll in her hands
that was missing its head.
It wasn't on the doll,
but on the floor instead.

The woman comforted
the child as the girl cried,
and held the young one
until her tears did subside.

The woman then picked up
the doll's head before she
held out a caring hand
and got up from her knee.

Holding the girl's hand,
the two of them walked away,
and Tara stood there
without anything to say.

Santa saw how Tara
was lost in her own head.
With some concern in his eyes,
“Young lady?” he said.

His voice pulled Tara back
into reality.
She looked at him and gave
a quieted, “Sorry.”

He could see in her eyes
that her thoughts had gone to
someplace unpleasant
she didn't want to wade through.

“You OK?” Santa asked.
Tara nodded a bit
and said, “Yeah, but I think
it's best if I just split.”

“Before you leave,” Santa said,
“just tell me one thing.
For Christmas, what is it
that you'd like me to bring?”

Tara stayed silent
for a short time until she
began to speak in a
saddened voice quietly.

“Bring me a new childhood
where I'm not the one who
has to play adult when
I wasn't ready to.

“Or maybe a redo for
last year's Christmas day,
when some people came to
take my father away.

“Or at least make it so I
don't have to take care
of someone who'd be found dead
if I wasn't there.”

Tara's face saddened
as she closed her eyes and said,
“But that won't happen,
so that Christmas wish is dead.”

With a disheartened frown,
she took her hand away
as her words left Santa
unsure of what to say.

Without another word,
Tara rejoined her friend
and their trip to the mall
came to an abrupt end.

Tara said bye to Sophie
and then went back home.
Once there, she found her
mother had begun to roam

around the house looking
for some liquor to drink.
And the sight of this made
Tara's heart quickly sink.

That was hours ago,
and it made Tara decide
that she had to get away
and so chose to hide

away in her room and
pack up the things that she
couldn't leave behind
as she got ready to flee.

And so now there she sat,
waiting for when she could
get away and leave it all
behind her for good.

Tara closed her eyes for
a few moments until,
the smell of that liquor hit
and made her feel ill.

She could hear her mother
Pam, shut the bathroom door.
The harsh sounds that came next,
Tara tried to ignore.

She heard her mother
mumble incoherently,
and then heard the woman
vomit rather loudly.

Tara grimaced at the sound;
her eyes still closed tight.
“C'mon Ray,” she uttered.
“I wanna leave tonight.”

As if she'd been heard,
a pair of honks from outside
brought relief to her face as
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed.

With a quieted quickness,
she got to her feet
and then snuck down the hall,
trying to be discrete.

She stepped from the house
and gently shut the front door,
while the first tears of the night
looked ready to pour

from her eyes as she made
a beeline for the truck,
whose passenger door was
open so she could chuck

her duffel bag in,
which Tara did right away.
And as she climbed in, she said,
“Get me out of here, Ray.”

“Sure,” the guy said as he
put the truck into gear.
“Let's go to my place and
get the hell out of here.”

The engine revved up and
they drove into the night.
It was then that Tara
finally lost the fight

with all the emotions
that wanted out of her.
Her tears at last fell
and the world became a blur

as she cried where she sat
beside the person who
she'd been dating for three years
and who'd helped her through

ev'rything she'd been forced
to witness and endure.
Through her tears, Tara said, “Thanks.”
And Ray asked, “What for?”

“For getting me out
of that goddamned house,” she said.
“For helping me not have
to find my mother dead.

“I know this was sudden,
and I'm sorry for how
you've been pulled into this.”
Ray then said, “C'mon now.

“You've gone through some shit,
and now that shit's hit the fan.
You're my girlfriend, and I'll
help however I can.”

She looked over at him;
a sad smile on her face.
“So just relax,” he said.
“Soon, we'll be at my place.”

Back in her mother's house
that Tara had just left,
the whole place seemed empty
and was oddly bereft

of any of the sounds
that had been there before.
It took a few minutes,
but soon the bathroom door

opened up slowly and
out staggered Tara's mom;
her hair all messed up,
like it had endured a bomb.

Pam looked rather drained
as she stepped into the hall,
her words slurred a little
as “Tara?” she did call.

When she got no answer,
she went to Tara's door.
“Tara?” she repeated,
her word slurred a bit more.

She pushed the door open
with, “Tara, I need more
Yukon 'cuz I'm out.
Will you get some from the store?”

It took a few seconds,
but she soon noticed there
was no sign of Tara
in the room anywhere.

“Tara?” she called again
and when no reply came,
“I really not in the mood
for this stupid game.”

But all that she heard
was the silence of her home.
It was shortly after that,
she'd begun to roam

as she tried to find where
Tara was in the place.
As she did this, anger
quickly came to her face.

“Goddamn it,” she slurred
with a slight shake of her head.
She returned to Tara's room
and there on the bed

sat a folded piece of
paper she hadn't seen.
Pam went up to the bed
of her now missing teen.

Pam picked up the paper
and opened it to find
it was a written note
Tara had left behind.

“Mom,” it began, “I've
decided to move away.
Way too much has happened
and I just cannot stay

“in the house with you
anymore, so I've moved in
with someone I can trust.
Why? Where do I begin?

“I was eight when I looked
after both you and Dad
for the first time after that
ev'ning you both had.

“My birthday party
had just ended when you two
chose to get completely
trashed by burning right through

“all the liquor you had
in the house at that time.
Someone puked on the floor,
and left behind that slime.

“I came out and saw it,
while you both were in bed.
Did I go back to sleep?
No. What I did instead

“was clean up that mess
and keep watch over you two
in case someone choked on
any vomit that they'd spew.

“The next day, you saw
the stain and blamed me for
what one of you had done
during the night before.

“From that moment on,
you both made me feel like I
had to keep watch on you both
so you wouldn't die.

“Year after year I tried
to deal with all that crap,
hoping that maybe
reality would just slap

“you both upside the head
and show you that your kid
wasn't your damn caretaker.
But it never did.

“I tried to talk to you both.
Dear God, how I tried.
But you'd both just dismiss it,
and I always cried

“when I went to bed those nights,
feeling like your maid.
For years I put up with
the bullshit you displayed

“for me that showed how
all you both wanted to do
was stay shit-faced all the time.
That's what I went through

“week in and week out
until last Christmas Eve night.
Dad passed out in his chair,
and death snuffed out his light.

“He'd been drinking Yukon Jack,
and he drank too much.
He poisoned himself
with his fav'rite liquor crutch.

“He died during that night
and I spent Christmas day
watching the coroner
take my father away.

“And now here we are, Mom,
in the same fucking place.
You're still shoving that
Yukon Jack shit in your face.

“I can't take anymore,
so I'm leaving today.
I've been put through too much
and I refuse to stay.

“If you want to keep drinking,
then go right ahead.
But someone else can
be the one to find you dead

“in that chair the same way
that I found Dad last year.
For my own sanity,
I have to disappear.

“So know that I'm safe,
but I won't be coming back.
I hope that one day,
you'll leave behind Yukon Jack.

“I pray someday you'll see
what that shit's done to you,
before it gets to the point
where it takes you too.”

Pam's expression went from
confusion to sadness,
despite just how hard she tried
her best to repress

the emotions within her
that tried to break free.
“This can't be right,” she slurred.
“Did my daughter leave me?”

But those feelings soon faded,
and what took their place
was anger as a sneer
quickly came to her face.

“You turn your back on me?”
Pam muttered as she threw
the letter onto the bed.
“Well then, fuck you too.”

She stormed down the hallway
and stumbled just a bit
as she went to her bedroom
and dug through the shit

that cluttered up her purse
until she found her keys.
Into the cold night she went,
then fell to her knees

as she felt her stomach churn
right before she blew
out her stomach's contents,
along with some blood too.

She puked a second time
as the world seemed to spin.
She swayed in place slightly
as puke dripped from her chin.

It took a solid minute
for her to regain
her equilibrium,
which she tried to maintain

as she looked at the mess
that she'd made on the ground
and how her blood was mixed in.
After which, she frowned.

“That's not good,” she muttered
as she took in the sight.
“Maybe a liquor run's
not in the cards tonight.”

She spat a couple times,
then got back to her feet
and went to her mailbox
that stood along the street.

Her mail was collected,
and she went back inside;
her ire still in place,
which she didn't try to hide.

She went back to her chair
and sat down in a huff
before she began to dig
through all of the stuff

that the mailman had
brought her earlier that day.
And she did this without
a single thing to say.

The mail was mostly fliers
for sales here and there.
Each one selling things,
about which, she didn't care.

Electronics and shoes,
and some gunk for her skin.
But as she went through them,
things began to sink in.

“Hurry!” said one flier.
“It's your last chance to save!”
Another stated, “Get back
what you really crave!”

She paused for a moment.
Her brow furrowed a bit.
She seemed distracted as
she continued to sit

with the mail on her hands
'till at last she put down
what she was holding as
she continued to frown.

“There must be something on,”
she mumbled to no one.
She turned on the TV
and soon she had begun

to flip through the channels
'till she found something to
distract her from her thoughts
with a, “Guess this will do.”

The screen was filled with a
well known stop-motion tale;
one she hoped would be able
to fully derail

her unpleasant thoughts that
had given her some pause.
And so she watched “The Year
Without A Santa Claus.”

It was on the scene where
Mrs. Claus had a chat
with Mother Nature
and her odd bird's-nest hat.

Heat Miser showed up,
then Snow Miser did appear,
and both got a stern lecture
from their “Mother Dear.”

As she watched the show,
what she had drank took its toll.
Her eyelids grew heavy
and soon began to stroll

downward until, at last,
she had closed her eyes and
left the waking world
as she entered the dreamland.

It wasn't long before
she awoke and was met
by a scene she'd seen on
her television set.

All around her, things didn't
look right to her eyes.
It was like they were toys,
but blown way up in size.

Buildings with thatched roofs,
mud walls with embedded stone,
but they didn't look like
anything she'd been shown

at any point in her life,
in books or nature.
Even supposed wood
didn't look right to her.

What should have been straw,
looked more like big grouped tubes now.
The mud walls looked more like
paper mache somehow.

What were supposed to be stones,
were flat bits of wood.
Even the ground and trees
didn't look as they should.

Nearby stood a table
with a chair that seemed odd.
She went up and touched them,
then uttered, “Oh my God!”

as she felt how little
the two things seemed to weigh.
What looked like heavy,
thick wood, seemed to betray

reality as she asked,
her voice holding fear,
“Where in God's name am I?
And what's going on here?”

She looked around again with,
“This is a dream, right?”
“Not really,” came a man's voice.
“It's no dream tonight.”

Movement came from the strange
cabin that Pam stood near.
Its front door swung open
and Santa did appear.

The pants, coat and hat he wore
were red with white trim.
They looked like thick felt
with how stiff they were on him.

A black plastic-like belt
went around his belly.
His black boots were plastic
too, from what she could see.

His face was like polished wood
which had a beard glued
to it as his entire
appearance did exude

the idea he was
someone's over-sized toy.
And the sight of him nearing
didn't bring her joy.

The scene clearly freaked her out
as he came outside;
a fact that she didn't
make an effort to hide.

Santa drew closer with each
jerky step he took;
with movements that gave him
a near stop-motion look.

Pam watched him come toward her
with a stare that was filled
with confusion and fear,
which continued to build.

It took a few seconds,
but when her brain kicked in,
a memory came to her
from when she had been

in her chair as she watched
a stop-motion kid's show.
And this memory helped
make her confusion grow.

Her gaze fell as ev'rything
poked hard at her mind
and she uttered, “This is
a nightmare of some kind.”

“Yes and no,” Santa said.
“You're not awake right now,
but we're both very real.”
Too which Pam asked, “But how?”

She returned her gaze to
the fat man who grew near.
“What's going on Goddamn it,
and why am I here?

“Why does ev'rything look
like that show on TV?”
When Santa said nothing,
“Goddammit, answer me!”

Santa's stop-motion gate
soon brought him up to her.
He said, “Excuse me as I
get changed, as it were.”

With a snap of his fingers,
ev'rything went dark.
Then a second snap came
and there was a bright spark

that burst into being
and which hung in the air
as its body gently
shimmered while Pam stood there

with surprise on her face
and some fear in her eyes.
After a few moments,
the orb began to rise

and move slowly toward her
'till it was overhead.
With alarm in her voice,
“I don't like this,” she said.

“You've got nothing to fear, Pam,”
came Santa's voice from
the darkness before her.
“But I'd like you to come

over to me so that
we can have a short talk.”
“About?” she asked nervously.
He said, “Please, just walk

toward the sound of my voice.
I promise you'll be fine.”
With little steps, Pam
cautiously walked a straight line.

As she moved forward,
the orb of light did the same
and lit a small patch of ground,
which for Pam, became

the only place she felt safe
to put her feet on.
For outside of that light,
the world was simply gone.

No color, no movement,
just a void; dark and deep.
But steadily forward,
Pam continued to creep.

Just up ahead of her,
fading into the light,
was someone who was
a rather familiar sight.

Santa had begun to
come slowly into view.
But the man no longer looked
like what he used to.

Gone was the man that looked
like an over-sized doll.
He now looked human;
with a big belly and all

the red, white and black
attire that one would expect
of the one called St. Nick.
And this change did affect

Pam as she backed off
a couple of steps from him.
“Oh God, now what?” she asked,
her tone fearful and grim.

“It's alright,” Santa said,
holding out his right hand.
“There's something important
we should talk about and

look at together for
a few minutes my dear.”
He brought his hand up more
and asked, “Will you come here?”

“I um...” Pam uttered as
hers eye darted between
Santa and the darkness
where nothing could be seen.

“You're safe with me, Pam,” he said
in a calming voice.
“I wish you'd walk with me,
but you do have a choice.

“If you'd like, I could send
you back to your old chair
so you can continue
sleeping as you sit there.

“Or, you can come with me
so that you can see how
someone you know is in
a lot of pain right now.”

With some hesitation,
Pam went up to St. Nick.
As she held out her hand,
“This best not be a trick.”

“It's not,” Santa said
as he took her hand in his.
“A chance to help someone,
is what this moment is.”

A single image faded
in ahead of her;
it was fuzzy and looked
like a colorful blur.

But as it came closer,
the image began to
get clearer and more defined
the closer it drew.

It soon came to a stop
a dozen feet away.
Pam looked at the image,
unsure of what to say.

The picture was of a girl
who looked eight years old.
She was on her knees and
was clearly being told

to clean up the dark blotch
that a rug had on it.
The girl looked upset,
like she'd been crying a bit,

and her eyes were fixed on
the woman who stood there
in a bathrobe and slippers
with tangled up hair.

The woman was holding
a scrubbing brush out to
the girl and pointing
at the spot in question too.

“I've seen this,” Pam uttered
and continued to stare
at the photo before her
that hung in the air.

“That's you and Tara,”
Santa factually said.
“Taken not long after
you'd gotten out of bed

“and found a stain that you
quickly blamed Tara for.
A mess that your husband
had made the night before.”

“Excuse me?” Pam blurted out.
“That's complete bullshit.
She had spilled something there
and I made her clean it.”

“Do you recall the night
before?” Santa asked her.
Sounding vexed, she replied,
“No, I don't remember.

“And why would that matter?
I told you what she did.”
Santa replied calmly,
“Let's see what your mind hid

“away in a corner
over the last decade.”
After a moment,
the photo began to fade

as it was replaced by
a movie of some kind;
one that stirred up something
in the back of her mind.

It was like ev'rything
was seen through someone's eyes,
and this left Pam confused
as she struggled to size

up what was happening
in the scene that played out.
But when she heard someone speak,
it left little doubt

regarding who was involved
in what she did watch.
She heard a man say,
“Oh yeah, this shit is top notch.”

“Dale?” Pam faintly said
as she continued to stare
at the video-like scene
that hung in mid-air.

Pam then heard her own voice
say, “That is very true.”
The view then swung over
to reveal the man who

had spoken, which made Pam's jaw
go a little slack.
“Dale,” she uttered before
he said, “Give me that back.”

In the scene, a hand
came from below into view.
It held out a bottle,
and the man said, “Thank you.”

Pam watched as he took
a big swig of Yukon Jack.
And after he had finished,
he handed it back.

“Thank you my good woman,”
the man drunkenly smiled
just before he leaned forward
and grossly defiled

the rug on the floor
that was laid before his chair.
Then came Pam's voice, “You're done, Dale.
Just leave that mess there.

“I'll clean that tomorrow,
assuming it comes clean,”
she said as the view stayed
on the large pea soup green

stain that he'd just made
on the rug between his feet.
Pam watched the scene fade
as Dale got up from his seat.

“The picture I showed you first,”
Santa said softly,
“was taken by Dale
after you initially

“had yelled at Tara for
the mess she didn't make.
She told you the truth,
but you called her story fake.

“Tara had come out
after you two went to bed.
Where you had left the mess,
Tara chose to instead

“try to clean it up before
you and Dale awoke.
The next morning, you both
berated her and spoke

“to her like she'd been
the one to do something wrong.
From there, your eight-year old
daughter endured a long

“and hard road where she tried
to take care of you two
so that she wouldn't get blamed
for what you'd both do

“when you got too drunk and
left messes or passed out.
And year after year,
that's what her life was about.”

As Pam stood there, more of
such scenes began to fade
in from the darkness around
her until they'd made

a patchwork dome of moments
that played around her.
As she took them all in,
unease began to stir

within her as she saw
things she couldn't recall.
But her voice and husband
were present in them all.

And then there were the ones
where Tara was present.
Where the girl got yelled at
or wound up being sent

to get this or that bottle
as her parents drank.
Pam's emotions began
to churn and her heart sank

at how Tara had gone
from a happy young child,
to a sad and despondent
teen who never smiled

in any of the scenes
that showed her older face.
Santa saw this clearly,
but he remained in place

as he watched Pam become
overwhelmed by the sight
of what Tara had endured
for night after night

and day after day for
those ten very long years.
When Santa at last spoke,
Pam started shedding tears.

“Tara cleaned up what both you
and Dale left behind.
The bottles, the vomit,
anything she would find.

“And on top of that,
you know what else she would do?
She would spend time each night
checking up on you two

“to make sure that you both
would wake up the next day.
That in your sleep, neither
of you would pass away

“because you choked on
anything you'd bring up when
you were asleep. She did this
again and again

“each year without fail.
And all she got in return,
was your letting the bridge
between you and her burn.

“And now Tara's left
because you wouldn't see how
your actions affected her...
both back then, and now.”

Pam averted her gaze
as stood quietly.
In time, she asked sadly,
“She's gone because of me?”

“She is,” Santa replied.
“But Dale played a role too.
And what happens next,
is completely up to you.

“You can keep going down
the same road you've been on,
or you can try to fix things
before Tara's gone.”

“She's already left,”
Pam said in a quiet voice,
to which Santa replied,
“As I said, it's your choice.

“She left you behind, yes,
but she's not gone for good.
I don't know where she is,
but I think that you should.”

“What?” Pam said with confusion
as she looked at him.
“How could I know?” she added,
her tone rather grim.

“Who would Tara trust?” he asked.
“Who would she turn to?
I don't have that answer,
but I'm guessing you do.”

Without another word,
Santa brought up a hand.
He snapped his fingers,
and Pam left the crazy land

of darkness and her past as
she found her mind hurled
back into her chair at home
and the waking world.

She opened her eyes as
she sat up in her chair.
And with a puzzled gaze,
she quietly sat there

for a few minutes before
she got to her feet.
In her bedroom, she got dressed
and then took a seat

on the edge of the bed
as she put on her shoes.
She then went through her home
and picked up any booze

she was able to find
and dumped it in the sink.
Once she was done, she said,
“That's all of it, I think.”

She then put on her coat and
went out the front door,
only to return and
rush to her dresser drawer

where she had always kept
her purse and her car keys.
She mumbled to herself,
“Damn near left without these,”

as she grabbed those things
and went right back out again.
She started up her car
and shortly after then,

she was out on the streets
and stopped at ev'ryplace
she could think of to check,
with worry on her face.

With her phone in hand,
she went down her contact list
of Tara's friends' numbers,
making sure none were missed.

Pam called a few from her car
that she didn't know
where they lived. The others?
To their homes she did go.

At each one, she talked to
her daughter's friends as she
did her best to locate
where her daughter could be.

Two had simply told her
that Tara wasn't there,
while three others gave
suggestions regarding where

Tara might have gone and
to give those spots a try.
But Tara wasn't at
any place Pam stopped by.

By the time Pam returned
to her home, it was late,
and she felt like she had
some unbearable weight

that pressed hard on her mind
and heart as she sat down
in her old chair with a
deep and despondent frown.

Tara's friends were a bust,
and their suggestions too.
With tears in her eyes, Pam said,
“Tara, where are you?”

She dug out her phone
and scrolled through her contact list
once more to see if there was
someone that she'd missed.

Numbers and names went by
until she reached the last
one that had no name with it.
“Who's this one?” she asked.

She tapped on the contact
with a questioning stare.
She brought the phone up
to her ear, under her hair.

The phone rang sev'ral times
before someone answered.
“Hello?” a man said,
but the next thing that she heard

was the voice of a woman
in the background who
asked “Who is it?” and
he replied, “I've got no clue.”

Pam's eyes grew wider when
she heard the woman's voice.
She then began to smile
in a silent rejoice.

“Who is this?” the man asked.
Then in a more forceful
voice, “You best answer me.
I'm not up for some bull-”

“You don't know me,” Pam cut in
with a pleading tone,
“but I'd like you to put
my daughter on the phone.”

With ire, the man asked,
“Who gave my number to you?”
“I don't know,” Pam replied.
“I was just scrolling through

“the contacts on my phone
and it was the last one.”
“I know who you are,” he spat.
“This chat's fucking done.”

“DAMN IT WAIT, PLEASE!” Pam yelled.
“Please don't hang up the phone!
Just let me talk to her,
then I'll leave her alone

“if that's what she wants.
But I need to tell her things
and hear what she says...
even if what she says stings.”

The phone line went quiet.
Long enough to scare Pam,
before she heard Tara say,
“Well Mom, here I am.”

“I'm so sorry,” Pam said
as her voice cracked a bit.
“I know I fucked up.
I'm sorry for all of it.”

“You're sorry?” Tara said in
a near laugh. “Really?
That's all you can say after
all you did to me?

“All the shit that I saw?
All the shit I went through?
Everything I endured
because of Dad and you?!

“All the sleep I lost and
the times I cried in bed,
afraid that I'd wake up
and find both of you dead

“because of that fucking shit
the two of you drank!
All I did to help!
But all you both did was spank

“me and yell at me for
the messes you two made!
I put up with that shit
for a fucking decade!”

Pam could hear the pain
in Tara's voice before she
said, “I know,” in a soft tone.
“I know you hate me

“and I don't blame you
after all that you've been through.
All you've seen and heard,
and all the punishment too.

“But I need you to come home
so that we can talk.”
“Like I'd ever do that,”
Pam heard her daughter balk.

“Tara, please,” Pam begged.
“I'm asking you to give me
a chance to make things right.
I swear I will. You'll see.

“All the booze in the house
has been dumped in the sink,
and I'll clean the place up
so that it doesn't stink

“like an old woman's farts
or liquor anymore.”
Pam teared up a bit and
her throat tightened before

she continued with,
“Please, just give me a chance to
do whatever I need
to make it up to you.”

For what felt like hours,
silence had filled the line.
Pam had grown worried
when Tara gave a curt, “Fine.

See you in the morning,”
and hung up afterward.
From there, half of the night
for Pam became a blurred

stretch of frantic actions
as she cleaned up the place
with a stern look of purpose
etched onto her face.

By the time four AM
finally came to pass,
Pam flopped onto her chair
as she held a tall glass

of water, which she then made
quickly disappear.
“I forgot how much shit
Dale and I had in here,”

she grumbled as she sat back
while doing her best
to catch her breath while
she relaxed and tried to rest.

She set the glass onto
the small table between
her chair and Dale's as she sighed,
“Got this damn place clean.”

She rested her head back
and closed her eyes as well.
And into an exhausted
sleep she quickly fell.

The next thing she knew,
she was opening her eyes.
Sunlight now filled the room,
which caught her by surprise.

With a groan, she sat up, with,
“How long was I out?”
She checked her phone's time and
let out a panicked shout.

“OH SHIT!” she blurted as
she stood from her old chair.
She ran to the bathroom
to pee and brush her hair.

Once she had finished, she
went back to her seat where
an envelope rested
on the small table there.

“What the...?” she mumbled
as picked up what she'd found.
The front said “For Pam,”
and when she turned it around,

the back had no writing
and looked to be sealed shut.
“Who's this from?” she asked no one
as she sat her butt

right back down on her chair
and took the letter out
to see who it was from
and what it was about.

“Pam,” the letter started.
“I hope you're doing well.
I have something to share.
Something that I should tell

“you before you begin
to spend this Christmas day
with the young, heartbroken
woman who's on her way.

“What you saw earlier
was not quite all that you
and your departed husband
put your daughter through.

“What she endured, left
a lot of scars in her mind.
So I'm hoping when she
gets there, that you will find

“the patience and time
to let her speak about how
much she suffered from when she
was eight, until now.

“Take this chance to build up
what those years took away.
Show your daughter how badly
you want her to stay

“in your life, and that you
won't hurt her anymore.
Take care of yourself, Pam.
Now go answer the door.”

A few solid knocks at
the door brought Pam to turn
her attention to it
as a bit of concern

built up in her gaze.
She set the letter down and
was hit with a bright flash
just as it left her hand.

She then shielded her eyes
as the flash came and went.
Afterward, she saw that
the letter she'd been sent

was nowhere to be found.
It was just simply gone.
She looked confused as she asked,
“The hell's going on?”

A second knock on the door
pulled Pam from her chair.
She then pulled open the door
to see who was there.

The first thing she felt
was the cold breeze and chilled air.
Then she saw who was
giving her an icy stare.

Pam stood in place, a bit stunned,
despite that she'd known
Tara said she'd come by
when they'd talked on the phone.

“You came,” Pam uttered
as she looked at her daughter.
But Pam's gaze soon shifted
to someone behind her.

With Tara was a man
Pam had not seen before.
Her eyes stayed on him
for just a few moments more

before Tara spoke up and
got Pam's attention.
“I'm here,” Tara said coldly.
“Let's just get this done.”

A sad gaze came to Pam's face
as she saw the way
Tara's harsh glare told
how she didn't want to stay.

Pam's sadness soon won out
and she began to cry.
“Do you hate me?” she wept.
Tara gave no reply.

“I'm so sorry,” Pam said
as tears ran from her eyes.
“For all that I did and said
that made you despise

“your father and I
the way that you do right now.
I want to fix this, but I...
I'm not sure just how.”

From there, Pam took Tara
into her arms as she
continued to cry
almost uncontrollably.

Tara said nothing as Ray
watched with some concern.
But in time, Tara held
her mother in return.

“We've got a lot to discuss,”
Tara stated in
a tone that wasn't quite
as cold as it had been.

It took a short time,
but Pam soon let Tara go.
“Who is he?” Pam asked.
“Is he someone I should know?”

“He's my boyfriend,” Tara said.
“who you've never met.”
Pam looked just about as
surprised as she could get.

“You've been dating?” Pam asked.
“For a year,” Tara said.
“Since a few weeks before
I found my father dead.”

Ray chimed in with, “And I know
just what she's been through.
I'm here so that she won't
be left alone with you.”

With some anger in her stare,
Pam looked right at Ray.
“You're calling me a threat to her?
How dare you say-”

“I'm not saying that,”
Ray cut in with a firm tone.
“She's been through hell, and didn't
want to be alone

“here with you while you both
talked all of this over.
So that's why I've come
along, Pam. To support her.”

“This is a family
matter,” Pam said sternly.
“It doesn't involve you, Ray.
Just Tara and me.”

Tara stated, “He stays
and sits in with us, or,
I walk away and don't speak
to you anymore.”

Pam looked annoyed, but sighed
with a, “Just come in, please.
It's chilly out here,
especially with the breeze.”

Tara and Ray came in
and Pam shut the front door.
From there, they all took a seat
and began to pour

over the last ten years
and what Tara went through.
The stress, the sadness
and the intrusive thoughts too.

Many things were shared as
Pam and Tara conversed,
while Ray simply listened
to them talking at first.

But in time, he too
spoke up ev'ry now and then
to say what he'd helped
Tara get through each time when

she'd go to him so that
she could get away from
her mom when she was drunk
on cheap whiskey or rum.

Pam also shared what she'd
been through with Dale's demise.
The loneliness, loss,
and how she came to despise

having Dale gone and how
Tara avoided her.
But now Pam knew how
she'd pushed away her daughter.

Why Tara had felt like
she had to find a way out;
to stay away from
her mother, who'd curse and shout

about things that she did
and then blamed Tara for,
until Tara just couldn't
take it anymore.

As they continued to talk
time slowly went by.
Much stood between them,
but Pam and Tara did try

to talk without shouting
or slinging insults, but
it wasn't always easy
considering what

had gone on for so long
over the last ten years.
This lead to flared tempers,
short breaks and some shed tears.

The road ahead seemed daunting
for Tara and Pam.
With so much to discuss,
it was too much to cram

into one morning's talk.
In time, each knew that they
needed some time to think,
and so called it a day.

What lay ahead for them
as a mother and child?
Could what pushed them apart
ever be reconciled?

Who could say for certain,
but one thing was quite clear;
despite all they'd spoken of
they were nowhere near

resolving their issues.
But at least there was hope.
Perhaps they could mend things
as they learned how to cope

with all the pain-filled times
the two had talked about.
A long road lay ahead.
Of that, there was no doubt.

And as their dark past now saw
it's first bits of light,
Merry Christmas to all.
And to all, a good night.