For
years I wanted to believe in angels and Christmas bells and the
wonderful life but as they slipped past the bells, they just seemed
to be tolling.
I’ve
been reading Charles Dickens recently trying to kill off the hours
leading up until Christmas. The rest of the year passes by smoothly
enough; as the minutes vaporise into days and the months just
coalesce into nothingness. Each day is indistinguishable from the
rest and that’s how I roll. However as the years twilight nears
then the air thickens, tightens and threatens. I have to read more
and more just to escape it.
The
excitement that once permeated each pore of my childish body gave way
to the realisation that it would never be me gaining wings; soaring
high on effervescent currents. I live in a much denser world full of
bah’s and humbugs, so it seemed very apt for me to be reading “A
Christmas Carol” for the first time…
Believe
me when I say that I can relate to Scrooge:
“But
what did Scrooge care! It was the very thing he liked. To edge his
way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to
keep it’s distance from what the knowing ones call nuts to
Scrooge.”
Snow
is trickling through the gray skies, carpeting the world in a
hypocritical purity; the whiteness simply reflecting back my
emptiness. Cold strikes me through what should have been my heart but
now harbours only holes. I sit in my small room; a bed and a
lifetime’s accruement of books for company. (I have a phone; an
outside line to the rest of the world. It gathers dust.) I continue
reading.
“”I
wear the chain I forged in life.” replied the Ghost. “I made it
link by link, and yard by yard: I girded it on of my own free will,
and of my own free will I wore it…””
Marley’s
ghost, the words of a long since dead friend. A friend to Scrooge?
But if such a thing was possible for a man like Scrooge then why not
me? I have long since lost that which mattered most to me; chased
them away by lack of emotion, fear of commitment. Afraid to be broken
hearted but broken anyway. So how did Scrooge manage? A story..
nothing more and I curse myself for a fool.
KNOCK
Knock KNOCK
Who
could this be at this time of night? I don’t have visitors. I get
up wearily from the bed and walk to the door. I’m not used to
receiving strangers or even talking to anybody, but the mask slides
down rustily and I open the door to greet the person.
Hair
like a sunrise in June, from a man who thought all poetry long since
dead. A smile, bubbles of carbonated happiness blended with eyes of
purest nectar. She speaks not in tongue but in warmth and the room
seems much brighter for her presence.
“Sorry
to trouble you.. especially at this time of night, but I’ve locked
myself out. I feel really stupid about doing this, but I was
wondering if I might use your phone?”
Think!!
Don’t just blurt something senseless, think first before opening
your mouth! “Please do.. you must be freezing? Come in – I’ll
turn the fire on for you. I don’t feel the cold any more, but I’ll
turn it on for you. Come in, sit down – please…. It would be
because I would want you to.”
It
would be because I would want you to? Gods teeth, strike me down!
It’s been so long that I can’t even construct proper sentences
now. She glides into the room.
“Thank
you, you’re most kind. I won’t stay long – I just need to ring
the locksmith and I’ll be on my way.” She replies.
“No
please.. It would be no trouble, no trouble at all. I don’t have
many visitors… well, you’re the first one. So stay a while – at
least until the locksmith arrives…”
“Thank
you.” She sits down on my bed, placing a cautionary hand on it
first. Upon sitting she notices the Christmas Carol on the bedside
table. “You fear the world too much.” She suddenly thunders. “All
your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance
of it’s sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall
off one by one, until the master-passion, gain, engrosses you.” I
must have looked bemused because she grinned and blushed at the same
time. “I’m sorry – it’s my favourite book.”
“Oh,
right… I’ve not read it before.” I reply, smiling sheepishly…
I’ve learnt that not reading The Christmas Carol is almost as bad
as not having watched The Sound Of Music (which I haven’t watched
either).
“It’s
one of my favourite books,” she replies, “a true story of
redemption; a forgiveness of sins and a repentance of a former
skinflint. To see things as they were; as they truly are and how they
could be… what a gift that would be! To see how one man could truly
make a difference should he be willing to change.” I was spellbound
by her, her voice was captivating and she always smiled! I felt
compelled to answer.
“I
always liked the film It’s a Wonderful Life for the same reasons.
The idea of a man not realising how important he is until he sees how
his life has impacted on others… It’s just a shame it’s all a
fiction.”
“But
it took an angel to show him, didn’t it?” She replied, a
mischievous glint in her eyes. But who showed the angels, I wondered.
“Why are you on your own?” She asks suddenly. “It’s nearly
Christmas after all…”
“I
don’t know.” I reply truthfully. As usual the words fail me as I
try desperately to explain that it was my choice, that I’d never
been good at giving myself to other people… “I’ve always been
afraid that if people see me for what I truly am then I would lose
them.” Where the hell did that come from? I just blurted it out! I
hardly knew her and yet I was now telling her things that no one else
knew about me!
“Did
you ever think that maybe people could help you? That maybe if you
talked to people they might actually listen? They might be able to
see things differently, and who knows –even enlighten you?” She
laughs, and I’m unsure whether she is actually taking me seriously.
I couldn’t detect any malice in her comments so I smile back. “What
are you scared of?” What a weird thing to ask, especially after
what I’d just told her.
“Being
alone.” I reply without even having to think about it.
“But
you’re alone now...” She laughs. I smile back again, like a
confused child. “You can’t possibly be scared of something that
you are already! I think you’re scared of something else, something
that you’ve kept hidden from yourself.. and it’s that that’s
keeping you alone! Think about it… I must be going now, I’ve
taken up far too much of your time as it is.. It’s nice meeting
you.” She stands up again and holds her hand outstretched so I can
shake it. Her warmth is contagious and I feel the glow flow through
my whole body.
“Will
I see you again?” I find myself asking as she walks towards the
door.
“Do
you want to?” She parries.
“Yes,
very much so.” I reply.
“I’ll
be around the same time tomorrow night.”
“What’s
your name?” I ask, just as she walks out of the door.
“Carol.”
How apt, I thought and as I close the door behind her I realise that
she never once used the telephone. I open the door to call after her
but am surprised to find that she’s nowhere to be seen, and outside
I can hear the ominous sound of metal clanging on metal ringing in a
new day.
DONG!
DONG! DONG!
The
next day drags, snails pace and I’m impatient to see her again.
Finally the evening crawls along and I sit in my room waiting for
Carol again, so I pick up the book and continue reading from where I
had left off.
“’…It
was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone
a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with
living green, that it looked like a perfect grove, from every part of
which bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly,
mistletoe reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had
been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the
chimney, as that dull petrifaction if a hearth had never known in
Scrooge’s time, or Marley’s, or for many and many a winter season
gone…’”
KNOCK
Knock KNOCK
I
run to the door, unbolt it and swing it open. The smile that greets
me again illuminates the room and I can not help but smile back.
“How
are you?” She asks. “Did you think on what I said last night?”
She hasn’t even walked through the door.
“I
have…” I reply sheepishly.
“Then
you can tell me whilst you fix me a cup of coffee.”
“Well…
you were right, obviously.” I’m trying to talk and figure out if
I’ve got milk and clean mugs… it’s not easy. She walks into the
room and lets her eyes wander around before sitting on the bed again.
She’s captivating, truly.. the way the light reflects off her hair;
her eyes that hold a promise for a thousand lifetimes. “And I
realised today how much of a fool I’ve been… and selfish, in a
way… does that make sense?”
She
nods and smiles, encouraging me to continue.
“I
thought that I was saving people from the bad in me, but how could I
have known?”
“Known
what?”
“I
never meant it to be like this. I wanted to stop people… myself
from getting hurt… not to chase them away. Please tell me that they
are two completely different things.” I turn to look at her, and
she just shrugs her shoulders.
“’..
if he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus
population.’” Carol replied, recounting another part from the
Christmas Carol. “”Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words
quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.
“Man,”
Said the Ghost, “if man you be in heart, not adamant, for bear that
wicked cant until you have discovered what the surplus is and where
it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It
may be, that in sight of heaven you are more worthless and less fit
to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the
insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry
brothers in the dust!””
She
once again looked up at me, the truth shining in her eyes like
diamonds of flickering hope, refracting my heart. “Don’t you
realise that it’s not your place to decide who gets hurt, and who
gets to know you? Who are you to judge? You have to let people make
their own choices. You are going to get hurt as love can not be
without loss. An absence of one is the exclusion of the other. Do you
see?”
I
hung my head.
“How
could I not have realised that?” and then the realisation struck
me. “I did know…. I just kept it from myself, tried to hide in
excuses: a web of deceit and self-debasement so tangled and intricate
that I lost my own sense of identity. I pretended so much that I
forgot who I really was… Then I forgot to pretend because there was
no more I..”
“It’s
not easy seeing things as they really are. It takes great strength
and courage.” Carol places a hand on mine, the coffee long since
forgotten. Electricity passes between us. “I must go now. You have
a lot more to think about. I shall return to see you one more time;
on Christmas Eve. But before I go I will ask you one final question.
One that I think you will appreciate: ‘Are there no prisons?.. Are
there no workhouses?’ Who makes up the prisons that bind us in our
lives?” And with that she gets up from the bed, walks over and
kisses me softly on the cheek. Roses, she smells of roses… and then
she is gone.
As
the door closes behind her I can hear the bells ringing, but I am too
deep in thought. “Who makes the prisons that bind us in our lives?”
Who indeed….
DONG!
DONG! DONG!
It’s
Christmas Eve, the room is quiet with nothing stirring. The snow is
falling still but now with whispers of promise. Anticipation clutches
at my heart as I continue my reading of Dickens.
‘”Am
I that man who lay upon the bed?” He cried, upon his knees The
finger pointed from the grave to him and back again.
“No,
Spirit! Oh no, no!” The finger was still there. “Spirit”’ He
cried, tight clutching at his robe. “Hear me! I am not the man I
was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse.
Why show me this now if I am past hope?” For the first time the
hand appeared to shake….’
KNOCK
Knock KNOCK!
I
open the door to Carol and she smiles at me and this time the
question is but a single word. “Well?”
I
smile and beckon her inside. “We make our own prisons; bind
ourselves with the shackles of our own past and expect others to free
us from them. Friends and lovers can only do so much. At best they
can provide the key, but it is up to each individual to unlock
themselves. I chased others away so I wouldn’t get hurt by own lack
of feeling, always blaming those people who only ever wanted to help.
But I can see now where I went wrong. I can change.. Have changed!”
“Yes..
You have – otherwise you would not have been able to say those
things. So what are you going to do about it?” She hadn’t even
sat down, she just stood and smiled at me.
“Open
up to people, be myself.” I smiled back, the strength of my
convictions growing the more I talked about it. “I’m not going to
be intimidated by my pre-conceived ideas of other peoples perceptions
of me… Does that make sense?” I laughed.
“More
than you realise.” She laughed with me.
“I’m
going to give myself a chance to be me and have strength enough to
say HERE I AM, WORLD!!!”
“BRAVO!”
Carol replies, clapping with me. “I knew you had it in you. All you
needed was someone who believed in you.”
“Yes,
and I think I knew that from the start, but could never admit to it.
That would have meant letting someone get close enough to hurt me,
and that never would have worked.” I laughed again, feeling feather
light. I was mocking myself and, for the first time, I was able to
see myself as a whole person, not as a jumble or an emotional mess.
“Don’t
you realise that you started on your road of healing when you invited
me in? Not only did you allow me to enter your room, but you allowed
me to enter your life as well. How easy was that?” She didn’t
allow me time to reply. “And you did it without thinking! Now, my
time here is almost gone, and I have but one more thing to give you.
However, in order for that to happen you must allow me to leave and
know that I will never see you again.”
I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing! After all she had given me,
Carol now wanted to leave. “But we’ve been through so much! I
can’t let you just walk out on me!” I pleaded with her, not ready
to let another friend go.
“Loss
is a part of life; a part of love. I could never be truly yours, for
I am here for everybody. Would you deny other people what you have
received? Will you decide what men shall live and what men shall
die?” I understood what she was saying.
“No…
it’s not for me to deprive others.” I shook my head. “I have
been blessed with my time and I will always hold that dear. You’ve
given me back feelings that I thought were long since extinct and for
that I thank you.” I tentatively lean in and kiss her on the cheek.
She reciprocates and lets the kiss linger on my cheek before opening
the door. She looks back at me and winks, before closing the door
behind her.
‘I
have one more thing to give you, but in order for that to happen you
must allow me to leave.’ What did she mean by that? Just then the
windows are blown open –something I thought would be impossible on
such a calm night. The naked pages of The Christmas Carol flutter in
the wind, the pages bristle and flap like wings before stopping. I
kneel down to look at the page that lies open.
‘He
became as good a friend, as good a master and as good a man as the
good old city knew, or any other good old city, town or borough in
the good, old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in
him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise
enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at
which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset;
and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway he thought it
quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as
have malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed; and that
was quite enough for him…”
The
bells chime, but they are interrupted by the sound of my wings.
