Coming Home (Brian)

Walking out of the train station, a pale young man with longish dark hair looked around. Not a cab in sight. He figured he shouldn’t be surprised – after all it was past 9 PM and it was Christmas Eve. His family wasn’t even expecting him until the next evening. In fact, his parents had been planning on picking him up at the airport in the city. When his counselor had come to him that morning, he hadn’t expected the sudden change in his holiday plans.

"Hey, kid, I traded in your plane ticket."

"You what?!" After all these months, he couldn’t believe it. He had served over half of his sentence – most of the time had been spent in the drug rehabilitation area of the minimum security facility - and was being released early on good behavior.

"Yeah." His counselor had paused so that he could watch the array of expressions that the younger man was trying to keep from his face.

"Yeah," he repeated, "I traded your ticket – your flight leaves in three hours. Think you can be ready? Merry Christmas!"

Brian Belden hugged his counselor unashamedly and mumbled, "Thanks for the best Christmas present ever!"

Brian smiled to himself thinking about how quickly he had thrown his few personal possessions into the duffle bag he now carried. He had decided against calling his parents so that he could surprise them. Well, now it looked as if the surprise might be on him if he couldn’t find a cab and had to call the farm and have someone come pick him up.

Remembering where some of the cabbies hung out to wait for customers, Brian headed down the snowy sidewalk toward the Cameo. As he walked in the crisp darkness, he found himself wondering how his family was going to react to his arrival. He had spoken to his parents a few times during the past year, and had received letters from his two younger brothers. He’d heard nothing from his sister and that concerned him. He could relate to the prodigal son, and only hope that his homecoming would be similar.

‘Man, I hope there isn’t a movie getting out now,’ he thought as he walked quickly in the direction of the theater. He really didn’t want to run into anyone he knew – not yet anyway.

As he passed Wimpy’s, he got a whiff of French fries and hamburgers. His stomach rumbled ominously. He’d been too nervous to eat anything on the flight east. The last thing he’d had was a glass of watery eggnog that the flight attendants had been giving to everyone in honor of the holiday.

A few snowflakes began to fall as he rounded the corner and saw a yellow cab idling at the curb. Brian quickened his pace to reach the car before anyone else appeared out of the darkness.

"Glen Road, please, to Crabapple Farm."

"Isn’t that out near Manor House?" the cabbie queried.

With a glance, Brian realized that this was someone he had never seen before and relaxed. "Yeah, that’s the place." He settled himself on the sagging back seat as the driver flipped on the meter and pulled away from the curb.

Accompanied by the low sound of the radio, Brian took in the familiar sights of his home town as the taxi driver made his way toward Glen Road and the outskirts of town. He’d been away for nearly a year and a half and had thought that things would change. Of course, there were subtle differences, but for the most part Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson was the same as always. The plastic wreaths that had adorned the street lights for as long as Brian could remember were even unchanged.

The ride seemed so short that Brian had to look twice to make sure that the cab had stopped in the right spot. ‘Why did we ever complain that we lived so far from town,’ he thought, ‘Two miles really isn’t that much!’

"Thanks," he said as he handed a few bills to the cabbie, "This is fine."

"Are you sure, kid?" the driver asked, peering through the windshield at the snowy winter darkness.

"I’m sure, the drive isn’t that long." Between the darkness, the snow that had been falling steadily for the past half hour and the slight bend in the driveway, the lights of Crabapple Farm were hidden from view.

Quickly he retrieved his duffle bag from the floor of the cab and climbed out of the car. With a wave to the driver, he turned toward the snowy drive. Before beginning the short walk, he zipped his coat up and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck, almost as if he were a soldier donning armor before entering a battle. As excited as he was to be returning home, there was a part of him that was frightened.

As he kicked his way through the deepening snow he sent up a silent prayer that all would be well when he reunited with his parents and siblings. Just as he rounded the slight bend in the road and came in sight of the homey lights of the farmhouse he’d grown up in, Brian froze. This was it – he was home. He hoped that his parents and siblings had been able to forgive him for the shame and sorrow that he had caused them. As he stood there in the cold winter air, a soft voice seemed to speak to him and said, ‘They forgive you…they have tried to understand. And most importantly they love you. Deep down, no matter what, they all love you and have missed you. Don’t worry.’

With those words repeating themselves in his mind, he picked up his pace. As he drew near the kitchen door he began to whistle the song that had been on the radio. The joy he had felt earlier that morning when his counselor had given him his new ticket had returned. His knock brought his younger brother to the door.

"Merry Christmas!" Brian exclaimed. He grinned as Mart, for one of the few times in his life, stared at him wordlessly. As his parents, Trixie and Bobby joined them in the kitchen; Brian heard the words to his song in the background,

Oh there's no place like home 

for the holidays, ‘cause no matter 

How far away you roam 

if you want 

to be happy in a million ways 

for the holidays, you can’t beat 

Home, sweet home

This story takes place about 3 months before The Spanish Mystery. 

Holiday GWP from Zap's 2002 (posted 11-25-02)