Two Christmases

But at eleven-thirty, Claire walked through the door, just as happy as if nothing had happened between us. She ran to me and gave me a tight hug while exclaiming 'Merry Christmas!' She whispered 'Sorry, Dad' in my ear as Richard walked up for a group hug.

Right behind them stood Ivy, tentative and terse. "Merry Christmas, Ivy," I greeted her warmly. Her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree and she stood there, arms open if I wanted to receive her offer. I hugged her, happy that I wasn't going to be alone on the special day. After the greetings, Ivy moved to the kitchen and looked to be getting the lay of the land. I gave her a questioning gaze.

"Claire told me we were having a ham for dinner," she said with more excitement than I expected. "What sides were you planning on?"

I looked at Claire, then back to Ivy. "Uh, mashed potatoes," I answered, "and peas." My ex came closer almost like she wanted another hug.

"Mark," she affably asked, "would you allow me to cook one last holiday meal?"

What is anyone supposed to say to that? "Of course," I stumbled a bit. "Uh... let me know what you need help with. We... Well, we can all help."

She looked a bit stung for a moment as if I was questioning her ability. But that changed right away when she realized I was simply being kind. At least kind enough to allow her control of my kitchen.

With that settled, Richard went out to the car and brought back several grocery bags. I helped unpack a plethora of sides and desserts that weren't on the menu. Based on our trip to Seattle, I didn't hold out much hope that Ivy would be able to pull it off. When I saw canned pumpkin for a pie, I was sure of it.

Ivy surprised us though. She battled through some obvious pain during the morning and afternoon and put herself into the preparation like it was the last meal she'd ever cook. Then it hit me. I spent a few emotional minutes hiding in the bathroom, trying to get myself together. Feeling sad for her, of all people, left me confused about myself - about my compass.

Just before serving, Ivy began to give in to her exhaustion. It was clear she was beyond frustrated by her limitations. I decided to insert myself to help but Claire gently touched my shoulder.

"Go keep Richard company, Dad," she half whispered. "I've got this."

Ivy took a long time to get herself squared away in the restroom. I became concerned enough to check on her, asking through the door.

"I'm fine, Mark," she said. "I'll be out in a minute."

Dinner was exquisite. She'd never prepared anything even close to that when we were married. "Wow, Ivy!" Claire complimented. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

My ex-wife seemed to ponder what to say or how. "After I left," she paused again. "Left Frye for good, I decided that I'd start doing things I was or always had been passionate about. I took two years of cooking classes, then two semesters at the local culinary school."

"You're very talented." I didn't know what else to say. It was too bad she was so accomplished now, at the end. Of course, I still didn't know when she left that asshole, or if he'd tossed her. That was not a conversation we'd have that night.

After cleaning up, we sat in the living room and Claire began distributing presents. The first she handed to me was a card. I had to wonder since it had always been a tradition for us to open gifts first and cards afterward. Within the heartfelt card was a black and white sonogram photo. I looked up at her quizzically.

"Yes, Daddy!" she squeaked in excitement, jumping onto my lap. "You're gonna be a grandpa!"

There was an uproar, and congratulations all around. I hadn't seen a smile like that appear on Ivy's face since a few months before she'd left.

When Claire got around to handing out Ivy's gifts, I felt a certain apprehension. Richard, being a handy fellow, and recently announced father, opened a $2500 gift card to Home Depot. He seemed to defer to me as if asking permission to accept it. I sat still.

Claire's gift was the one that broke the damn. There were two gifts, actually. The first was for one thousand dollars worth of diapers. Claire didn't seem to like that, but Ivy wouldn't be the first parent or grandparent to offer such a gift. When Claire discovered she still had one more to open, she glared at her mother. Inside was a felt box containing an Essential Tiffany necklace of Akoya Pearls, a piece of jewelry that cost somewhere between Twenty-five hundred and five thousand dollars.

"No, Mother," she stammered. "...Ivy. I can't... I can't accept this. It's too much." The words left unsaid spoke louder. Claire's love, respect, and forgiveness weren't for sale. Ivy understood right away, as a few tears slid down her cheek.

I'd had a thought about what kind of gift to give Ivy, ever since I'd permitted this little shindig to happen. The one I kept coming back to most, was the biggest chunk of coal I could get my hands on. I'd also thought about giving her absolutely nothing at all. But at that moment, I decided to offer up the one that landed somewhere between the fifth and tenth on my list. I excused myself to use the restroom, as the two women gently argued about the gift's merit.

I returned with a small, wrapped box and handed it to Ivy, interrupting the ongoing debate. She looked at me, stunned. The soon unwrapped box was quite recognizable to all. It was one that you might find in a game or novelty store. Ivy knew right away because the item was more from our generation than Claire's. It was an old game that lovers used to share after a wedding or on Valentine's Day. A bunch of coupons giving the other something of value - sometimes redeeming, sometimes sexual.

She looked at me with anticipation and fear in her eyes. She understood the contents could be good, or odd, or they could bring the celebration to a quick end. Tentatively, she removed the lid. Inside was a lone coupon. It read, "One free life mistake repellent. You are forgiven."

Ivy's eyes rolled up into her head. Both Claire and I closed the distance rapidly, with me getting there first. She didn't exactly faint, but she would have fallen off her chair without the intervention. Richard ran to the kitchen for a glass of water while Claire knelt in front of her mother asking if she was okay.

We didn't get around to Richard or my gifts for another thirty minutes.

>>>>

Claire embraced me at the rear of our car, bidding me farewell and a few other things. Richard had helped Ivy to the gangplank of the cruise ship and was waiting for the steward to return with a wheelchair.

"Try to have fun, Daddy," she said tenderly. "And, please, whatever happens, don't kill her." She gave a mock smile as she held my cheeks in both hands. I smiled back.

"No promises in that regard, sweetie," I half-joked, half cringed.

"Seriously, Dad," her smile dissipated. "There's not much point now." She was right of course. Ivy was in decline and we'd all seen it over the last week. Christmas Day had started for her with a burst of energy but had also taken a toll. She'd only had two days to recover before debarking on this journey if recovery was even an option at this point.

Ivy was given a free ride to our forward port bow suite, by the same steward. I guessed that in some way, Ivy wanted to look ahead, instead of looking behind her. In a few short weeks, she'd be embarking on a new journey, if one believed in that sort of thing.

After getting settled, I asked what she wanted to do.

"Can we tour the ship?" she asked. "And wave to the people at the dock as the ship pulls away?" Part of her reminded me of earlier happier days. Part of her reminded me of Claire when she was a little girl. When I offered her the chair, she immediately declined but I was prepared for that.

"The ship is as long as three football fields, Ivy," I scolded. "You want to have fun and see everything or do you want to stop for a break every ten minutes?"

She relented, hesitantly. I got the impression she wanted to hold my hand, rather than having me behind her, pushing. But push I did, for the next several hours. On the seniors' deck, she came out of the chair to play me in a game of shuffleboard.

Otherwise, it was a solemn and awkward day that rivaled our trip to the Space Needle. There was still an eight-hundred-pound gorilla looming over us. I tried pampering Ivy. Perhaps that isn't the right word. When we were on deck watching as the ship skirted the Canadian coastline, it began to snow. I worked to get my scarf off and wrap her for warmth. She vehemently told me to stop - that she didn't want it.

Other occurrences over the afternoon were akin to petulance. Childish outbursts. I was already beginning to curse myself for agreeing to accompany her.

We found ourselves at the first mate's table for dinner. Even with the money Ivy had retrieved from the asshole when she'd left, it didn't come close to gaining us a seat with the Captain. When Ivy ordered an after-dinner cocktail, along with the wine she'd consumed, I questioned if that was a good idea. The look I got along with the damned eye roll told me I'd overstepped and embarrassed her. She carried on with the couple to her right, ignoring me for the rest of the meal.

As people began to leave the table to dance, or explore, I asked, "Are we ready to go, Ivy?" She looked at me like I had two heads.

"What?" she asked a bit too loud. "No. The night's just getting started and I'm having fun."

The look, and the snarky reply, were almost forgotten memories from our past. They came back in spades, and my anger overtook me. "Well, don't you need your meds or something?" I grumbled.

"Or something?" She'd always argued by answering a question with a question. "If you want to be somewhere else, or uncomfortable here with me, you're free to go."

That was a new side of Ivy. I was taken aback and she picked up on it. "Mark," she said calmer, "You can stay or not. I'm having fun and I thought you were too. All day, you've been acting like a parent. A little drink after dinner isn't going to hurt me, with what I've got going on. Just relax."

I was angry enough to storm out, but I didn't want to make a scene. I scowled as I got up and left the table.

Our stateroom had two queen-sized beds. I got myself ready, but it was only ten o'clock, so I lay there thinking about how I was going to get through the next four days. The ship wasn't due back in port until late on the evening of New Year's Day.

Ivy was dying. Nothing was going to change that. I'd talked myself into the fact that she wanted my company so she could come clean about her misdeeds. Confess her sins. Now I saw that it was the same selfish Ivy, whooping it up with strangers instead of dealing with the important stuff. Just a bit ago, she'd dismissed me because I was trying to look out for her.

Well, fuck that, I thought. I could use the ship's size to my advantage for the next several days and she could find someone else to push her feeble ass around.

Somehow I was able to fall asleep. I didn't know how Ivy made it back to our room, but she was asleep in the bed next to mine when I awoke. By the time I'd done my three S's, she was up and sipping coffee in the living area. She was reading brochures about the ship's activities and looked up over its edge rather than meeting my eyes.

"Good morning," she said stoically when I didn't greet her first. "Are you still in a mood from last night?"

"You know what? Screw you Ivy," I couldn't hold back. "I try to be nice and it's the same old thing with you. I'm going to breakfast. You decide what you want to do for the rest of the day. I'm sure I can keep myself busy."

I walked out and headed to the buffet I'd read about before dozing off the previous night. I was halfway finished when I saw her wheeling herself into the room. One of the servers immediately went to offer help, and she scanned the room, finally pointing in my direction. He put her at the table left of me, and looked perplexed when I didn't stand or offer any kind of greeting.

"Mark," she looked pleadingly. "I'm sorry. My behavior was... loathsome last night. This morning, I was awful as well." I didn't say anything so she carried on. "I'm... trying to enjoy this. Originally, I expected I'd be traveling alone, so I'm trying to adjust."

"You asked me to accompany you, remember?" I asked sarcastically. "As far as your behavior, that's been a regular occurrence for the better part of twenty-five years. I expect it, I just no longer have to put up with it."

Ivy hung her head, then looked back up with a false bravado. "So, the piece of paper on Christmas? That's all it was, right, a gesture? You haven't truly forgiven me, have you?"

Before I could answer, Ivy continued. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought. I planned to have this conversation tomorrow night. Even to have it out with you, if need be. I wanted to do it right in the middle of our trip, so we could enjoy the first few days, and depending on how our talk went, maybe enjoy the last part too."

The gall of this woman. "Yeah, well, I wanted to win the lottery, be a four handicap on the golf course, and have a faithful wife. We don't always get what we want."

She rolled her eyes, which I was getting pretty sick of. "You had a faithful wife, and I'm sure she would have remained so if it hadn't been for fate. Your first wife was a fool, thinking she'd fallen for another man, or she'd have been the same. You've still got some of your best years ahead of you, so pay for golf lessons and buy a ticket more often." The bitch was going to play the death card.

"Alright, Ivy," a snarled through gritted teeth, "Enough of your damned self-righteous indignation. 'Poor Ivy' just like always. I know you're d... sick, but shit, you're always the victim."

Ahhh!" I shouted as I stood up and left her there. People all over the dining hall were looking at me and I didn't care one bit.

At about three o'clock, Ivy found me by one of the pools. Yet another ship's employee was pushing her chair. Watching her approach, I saw that she looked beat up from the street up. Even with the sun shining brightly through the glass-enclosed room, her skin had a grey hue. The cruise wasn't working out the way she'd figured. Too bad.

"May I sit with you?" she asked formally. When I nodded, she reached into her clutch and handed the man a hundred-dollar tip. She moved onto the lounge chair next to me and looked out of place without a swimsuit.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" She was being nice or cautious.

"Sure," I responded. Part of me was acting childish. Another was admonishing myself for coming on the trip. I was still angry with her after all this time had passed, deep down.

"What did you think when you got my note? The one saying I wouldn't be back?"

"It confirmed my suspicions," I said honestly. "You'd always been his, and you finally figured it out."

Ivy shook her head. "No, Mark, my fault," she said. "Not what did you think, but what did you feel?"

That was easy. I'd done the exercise dozens of times with my therapist. "Betrayed."

"If you thought I finally figured out that Frye was my true love, why were you surprised, betrayed?"

"Ah, I never said surprised, Ivy."

"I don't understand," she answered quickly. "If you felt betrayed by the announcement that I wasn't coming home, then that means you expected me back. That's why I said surprised."

I didn't want to have the conversation, but she wasn't going to leave me alone. I had no intention of hiding in a broom closet on a four-day Alaska cruise.

"Ivy," I sighed and took a deep breath. "I expected very little from you as soon as you started hanging out with his band. You were infatuated with him. I knew I was losing you. We had an infant. I had to put food on the table. I knew eventually you'd go to him. I never thought you'd just walk away, leaving your daughter. That was despicable."

She took that all in. "So, If I'd left with Claire, would you have fought for her? Fought harder for her than you did me?"

"Fuck off, Ivy." I spat. "I fought for you. I did."

"If I'd have come back like I originally intended to, would you have welcomed me back?"

"No," I told her. "No way. We'd have divorced, split custody."

"What happened to you, Mark?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Ivy?" I was all worked up again. "Nothing happened. Everything happened. Be more specific."

"The one and only time," she said, "that I spoke to Carrissa, she... she said something that blew me away. She described you as cautious, timid, steady, and careful. It struck me that that wasn't the man I married. That wasn't you at all. So, what happened?"

"You fucking happened!" I needed to calm down.

Ivy nodded slowly in agreement as if those were the words she wanted to hear. I wasn't going to let that fly. "You ran off with your high school boyfriend. You didn't give a rat's ass about your husband or your daughter. You had the life you wanted with some egotistical prick and now you're rich and hey, you get to check out early with no regrets.

"I had to be the slow and steady turtle," I continued my rant. "So that I could take care of OUR daughter. So that I could take care of my new family. I didn't always get to do what I wanted to do, in fact, the opposite. Yeah, sometimes I hated you and envied you at the same time, but I'll still be the slow and steady turtle long after you're gone, so wipe that smug look off your face, darling."

The look did indeed disappear with that last comment. Good. It certainly didn't dissuade her.

"That's what I thought," she said. "And if I had to guess you leaned on Carrissa, just like she could lean on you. Then she was... just gone."

My need to discover where she was going overtook my desire to make her stop talking about my sweet, wonderful wife. She waited for me to counter but I didn't, so she kept at it.

"You did everything 'right.' In your mind, you were on the right track, and so was your life, until the accident. Is that correct?"

I didn't enthusiastically respond, but some of that was accurate. Instead, I slowly nodded.

"She left you, like I did, so..."

That was where it ended for me. "She was taken from me, unlike you. Don't you dare equate the two events. She never had any intention of leaving me."

"Then why are you still wrestling with it?" she jumped back in. "Everyone knows it was an accident. Maybe you played life safe for everyone else's benefit, but why haven't you moved on? What's holding you back?"

"I'm not..." my thoughts were all over the place. "I don't... I will move on, in my own time!" There.

No more words from Ivy. She just stared at me, waiting.

"I loved her," I was no longer in control. "I loved her more than anyone, ever. Shit. She was taken. I don't want another love. I don't want a girlfriend or a relationship. Relationship, hah! I'm clearly not meant for them. I lose every time."

Ivy was still just looking at me reflectively and she seemed more than content with that. The idea, let alone the reality that I'd opened up like I had was irritating.

"You wouldn't understand, Ivy." I remedied. "You got what you wanted, and the cream on top."

Finally, Ivy piped in. "Hardly. But we'll talk about that later. Tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?" I demanded. "What's with all the cryptic bullshit? Maybe I don't care enough to hear it from you. Honestly, I just don't care period."

I got up and motioned for her to get in the chair. She didn't resist or make any snide comments. I could tell she wanted to stay. No, she just didn't want to go. Probably, she figured I was purposefully cutting into her fun.

Dinner was a quiet affair. She was lost in thought and so was I. Later, in our suite, Ivy seemed disoriented and weak. She asked me to help her into the shower and to stay in the bathroom until she was finished. Seeing her nude was a shock to me. Besides the obvious - disease - Ivy had several marks in many places on her body that weren't there when we were a couple. She was alert enough to notice me staring. I wanted to turn away but couldn't.