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‘Christmas Concert
December 19th, 8:15 P.M.
In the Main Hall
Given by the students of
The Haverford School’
The notice was small, hardly noticeable, and tucked away in the inside corner of the sixth page of the newspaper. Cal almost missed it, with his eyes, at the last moment, catching on to ‘Haverford School.’ He was fairly certain his sons attended that school. Fairly certain that Dinah hadn’t had them transferred elsewhere without telling him. At least, not yet.
He read the notice twice, wondering how much of a role Victor and Arthur might play in it. Were they going to be tucked into the back, barely noticeable, or thrust front and center? Could they even sing? He supposed at seven and nine years old, it probably didn’t matter.
Of course, Dinah wouldn’t want him there. That was why he had only learned of it by reading the newspaper, the day of the concert, not long before it started. It wouldn’t have been a problem if the boys were living at home—Arthur talked nonstop, he would’ve said something. But she had taken them a month ago to spend some time with her parents. And, so their Christmas Concert was news to him.
As he stared at the notice, he debated with himself. He desperately wanted to see them, almost as much as he wanted to avoid a likely very public argument with his wife. It had been nearly a month, he told himself. A month since he had last heard one of Arthur’s stories, a month since Victor had peppered him with questions about his work. It was nearly Christmas and he wanted to be with his children.
He could sit in the back. Slip in before the lights went down, slip out before they came up again. Dinah wouldn’t see him. She’d never even know he was there. Then again, neither would the boys. Unless he stood and discreetly waved from his seat. Arthur had very good eyes. He’d spot him and he would tell his brother. At least Cal hoped.
With his mind finally made up, he grabbed his coat and hurried out to call a cab. It wasn’t a perfect plan. But it was a plan. And it was better than sitting at home, wishing things were different.
The hall was nearly empty when he arrived.
Cal paused just inside the doorway as he brushed the snow from his shoulders. Outside the streets were buried in ankle-deep snow and the wind whipped between the buildings with a chaotic fury. But he hardly saw that as an excuse. Parents should have turned out for their children, regardless of the weather.
He settled into a seat in the back of the room and looked around. He recognized a few faces he had seen in passing before. No one he knew well or even at all. But one familiar face was missing.
Dinah.
She hadn’t come. She hadn’t bothered to brave the weather to support their children. And, while he wanted to solely blame the weather, he knew better. Attending children’s concerts was not how she preferred to spend her Friday nights. The thought made him angry and he tightly gripped the armrests of his seat. In a little while, Victor and Arthur would look out into the audience and their mother wouldn’t be there, cheering them on.
The lights dimmed and the concert began. Two dozen children of various ages trotted out onto the makeshift stage. All were wearing red and green elf costumes with matching felt hats, adorned with silver bells that jingled as they walked. One grown man, padded and red-faced beneath a cotton beard and wearing a familiar red suit, took his place in front of them. The teacher, Cal presumed.
After a moment, the children launched into the first verse of “Deck the Halls.” Cal tried to pick out Victor and Arthur from among the group but, from his seat in the back of the room, he couldn’t tell the individual elves apart. Giving up, he sat back to enjoy the concert the best he could. The children weren’t great. Their voices were off-key and pitchy and occasionally cracked. Every verse seemed punctuated by quickly stifled laughter. One small elf in the front row lost his hat and spent half of “Good King Wenceslas” searching for it.
But Cal still clapped softly between the songs, then harder at the end, standing with the rest of the room when it was finally over. The children’s bows were exaggerated and chaotic as they bumped into each other. The one small elf lost his hat once more. Cal applauded until his palms stung.
When the lights went up, he didn’t hesitate. He immediately moved toward the front.
Arthur spotted him first. Letting out a happy shout, he broke from the cluster of children and came barreling across the room, his elf hat clutched in his hands. “Victor!” He called back over his shoulder before turning his attention to his father. “Mom said you wouldn’t want to come.”
“Your mother was mistaken.”
“She said the snow would keep everyone away,” Arthur continued. “And she didn’t know why, for the love of God, they didn’t cancel this pointless thing. And she had better things to do than sit through a bunch of caterwauling.”
Cal could hear his wife’s voice beneath Arthur’s words and it broke his heart. Even if those thoughts had crossed her mind, she should’ve kept them to herself. “I’m glad they didn’t cancel it,” he said gently. “And I’m glad I’m here.”
“Me too.”
Victor finally reached them. “You’re here! We were terrible,” he added with a laugh. “Did you hear me laughing? Eddie—he was right in front of me—he forgot the words to “The First Noel” so he made up his own and they were much funnier.”
“All of you sounded wonderful,” Cal insisted. Truthfully, they were awful but no amount of money could make him admit to it in front of his children.
“No, it was bad,” Victor corrected but he grinned as he said it.
“I still enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Did you see me lose my hat?” Arthur asked suddenly. “It’s too big for me so it keeps falling off.”
“I did. But you found it very quickly.”
Arthur shrugged. “Not so quick. Everyone kept kicking it. Look.” He frowned as he held it out. “You can see where someone stepped on it. There’s an actual footprint.”
“It’s hardly noticeable and it looked to me as though you found it immediately,” Cal insisted. “I promise.”
“Which one was your favorite song?” Victor asked. “I liked the “Twelve Days of Christmas” because you have to sing it all in one breath.”
“You do not,” Arthur turned to him. “You’re not supposed to.”
“Maybe, but it’s more fun if you do.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Arthur said loudly. “Joy to the World is better.”
“It is not.”
“Is too.”
They both turned to look at their father, expecting a definitive answer. Cal was only silent for a moment. He could sense a trap in the question, that it went beyond the simple Christmas carol preference. “I thought they were all wonderful,” he said. “I doubt I could pick a favorite.”
Victor made a face. “That’s what all parents say.”
“I mean it.”
“Just admit it. Arthur’s your favorite.”
Cal was taken aback. “Arthur’s not my favorite.”
“What?” Arthur looked at him, distraught, tears filling his eyes. “You don’t like me?”
“Of course, I like you. I just meant that I have no favorites,” Cal said quickly. “You’re both equal in my eyes and you’re both wonderful.”
Several of the elves had started to gather in a noisy, happy group near the back of the room. Arthur stood on his toes and looked in their direction. “I don’t see any cookies yet,” he said.
“Cookies?” Cal looked at him curiously.
“There’s supposed to be cookies and cocoa afterward,” Victor explained.
“It’s our party,” Arthur added, nodding solemnly.
“That sounds fun.” Cal glanced toward the door and wondered how long he could stay. He did not want to impede on his boys’ cocoa and cookies or the time they’d spend with their friends. But he also didn’t want to immediately rush off. Who knew when he’d be able to spend time with them again? Time without Dinah hovering disapprovingly over his shoulder.
“Oh, no,” Arthur groaned suddenly.
“What?” Cal looked around the room, searching for the source of his son’s disappointment.
“It’s Mr. Lamm.”
“Who’s Mr. Lamm?
“He drives us to school,” Victor explained. “And he’s supposed to take us home once this is over.” He sighed. “Guess it’s time to go.”
“Is your mother…” Cal struggled to figure out how to word his question in a way that was appropriate for children. “Does she spend a lot of time with Mr. Lamm?”
Victor shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “He just drives us.”
A chauffeur. Nothing more. There was a modicum of relief in knowing that his wife wasn’t sleeping with Mr. Lamm—at least not at the moment—but that bit of relief was overshadowed by a deeper irritation. Mr. Lamm was likely spending more time with his children than their own mother. More time than their father.
“We should go,” Victor said quietly.
“But I wanted the cookies.” Arthur’s tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes. “We’re supposed to have a party.”
“Then you’ll have cookies,” Cal said simply. “I will speak with him. Which one is he?”
“Really?” Arthur sniffled. “He’s the one with the big mustache. Looks like a walrus but we’re not supposed to say that.”
“Alright.” Cal gently took the elf hat from Arthur’s hands and placed it on his head. “Now, go enjoy your party.”
With eyes lit up, both immediately ran off to join their classmates, all of whom were now gathered around a table that had been set up and filled with several types of cookies. A large silver server, clearly filled with hot cocoa, sat on one end. Cal watched them for a moment, laughing and jostling each other as they pushed into the crowd, wishing they had said goodbye before running off.
But then Arthur suddenly darted back, wrapping his arms around Cal’s waist in a surprisingly tight hug. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad you came.”
“You’re very welcome,” Cal said, returning the hug. “Now go on, before all the best cookies are gone.”
Arthur nodded as he let go. “Victor will eat them all,” he said solemnly. Then he was gone again, swallowed up by the other happy elves.
Once his boys were no longer in sight, Cal went to find Mr. Lamm with the big mustache. It didn’t take long to find him. He was the only person there, continuously checking the time and tsking impatiently.
“Mr. Lamm?” Cal was already reaching for his pocketbook.
“I am.”
“I’m Caledon Hockley, Victor and Arthur’s—“
“I know who you are.”
Cal took a moment to get his irritation under control. Growing angry wouldn’t help anyone. In fact, it could only make things so much worse. “In that case, I don’t believe you should take the boys home at once.”
“Mrs. Hockley said—“
“I don’t care what Mrs. Hockley said. I’m their father. And…” He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and held it out. “I think the roads are terrible and maybe it took an extra hour to get them home. Let them enjoy their party, Mr. Lamm.”
The man looked conflicted but only for the briefest of moments. A smile filled his face. “Yes, sir. Can’t drive very fast with all of that snow on the ground.”
Cal didn’t look back as he stepped out into the snow. It had stopped falling but the roads and sidewalks still glittered beneath their white blankets. A beautiful sight. If it weren’t for the biting cold, he could’ve stayed out there, admiring it, all night.
He hailed a cab then settled into the back seat, rubbing his hands together to put some warmth back into them. A tiny sprig of mistletoe hung from the center of the cab, tied there with string. Cal stared at it, swinging gently back and forth as the cab went down the road. It was an absurd place for mistletoe. How many couples could possibly find themselves beneath it? Unless the cab driver was hoping someone might kiss him.
Cal studied him, an older bearded man, and wondered what his reaction would be if he were suddenly to plant a kiss—the thought made him laugh, suddenly and loudly. It was a ridiculous thought and he only thought it because he was in such a wonderful mood. Truthfully, if he was going to kiss anyone…his thoughts started to drift toward Spokane before he abruptly pulled them back. Thinking about her was a sure way to ruin his mood.
“You’re in a good mood,” the driver said suddenly, glancing at him in the mirror. “Have a nice night?”
Cal leaned back against the seat, the sound of his sons’ laughter still ringing in his ears. “I’m alright,” he said. Then, after a moment. “I’ve had a very good night.”