Page 50 of Four Letter Feelings

Chapter 20

His time up north with his parents was passing faster than he’d like, it was already Christmas Eve. He and his mom had just pulled an eight-hour shift at the soup kitchen before heading home for dinner, showers and to get dressed for Christmas Eve services at church. Jeremy was exhausted. It had been great to be back at the soup kitchen, seeing his mom’s colleagues, friends and some of the homeless people had even asked where he’d been the previous year. The day had passed quickly, but his feet ached and he was cold. As he stood under the jets of hot water in the shower, he contemplated skipping church and going to bed, instead.

He felt a little better once he dried off and got dressed, and as he walked downstairs, the smells of his mom’s cooking wafting from the kitchen made his stomach growl.

“I can hear your stomach rumbling, Jeremy. Come in here and eat. Wow, you look exhausted! Are you ok?”

“Haven’t worked like that in a long time,” he answered through a yawn. “That day was tougher than any hockey practice I’ve had so far this season!”

“You’re comparing apples and oranges, darling,” she said, serving him a plate of steaming beef stew with homemade fresh bread rolls. “There’s an emotional – or, mental – component to working at the kitchen. It’s hard seeing so many people down on their luck, I get it. Maybe you should take a nap before we head out to church?”

“Assuming I don’t fall asleep in my stew and end up with third degree burns on my face, that’s probably a good plan.”

She laughed. “Such a drama queen.”

He picked up his spoon and watched the steam rise off the heaped pile of food in front of him. “Uh huh. I remember this stew, I’ve lost layers of skin in my mouth to this freakin’ stew over the years, Mom. It’s always unimaginably hot and yet it’s so delicious you just wanna shove it in your face as fast as possible. It’s a true test of patience. I always lose and end up with blisters on my tongue.”

“But a full and happy belly,” she reminded him, waving her spoon at him.

“True story.”

***

The church they’d gone to for as long as Jeremy could remember was only a couple of blocks from his parents’ house, so they never took the car, no matter how crazy the weather. His parents were religious but not preachy and he suspected long ago that his mom knew he’d lost his faith somewhere along the line but she’d never tried to force him back to the flock, nor had they ever talked about it.

He wasn’t really sure what he believed, he didn’t go to regular services on Sundays anymore, but he remembered missing only two Christmas Eve services in his life. One because of Europe and the other because of a particularly bad stomach that had left him out of commission for what ended up being the worst Christmas he could remember. As he bundled into the pews with his parents and his parents’ neighbors, he felt a sense of peace come over him. He loved listening to the music. His go-to genre was almost exclusively 80’s R’N’B classics, but the serenity he found in church music was strong and powerful. He closed his eyes as the choir began to sing and lost himself in the music.

Sitting there, he felt compelled to pray for the first time in years. As a child, he would kneel next to his bed before he slept, and list everyone in his life he wanted God to keep safe. Right now, however, he just felt compelled to say a quiet ‘thank you’. He premised his prayer by confessing he wasn’t even sure if God was real any more, but if he was, he was sorry it had been so long since he’d had a chat.

He sighed. Ok, well, I’m not really sure if you’re even up there, OR that you move us all around like chess pieces on a board. But if it WAS you, thanks for bringing my parents around to the idea of letting me live my life and make my own mistakes, that one has been pretty a huge game changer in my life throughout recent months. Not only has my life been easier but my relationship with my parents has gotten SO much better.

As he reflected, he realized just how true that was. While he was in Europe, they only talked weekly and he called out of obligation, often looking for any excuse to avoid talking to them. But since the discussion that AJ had been an unwitting party to, things had markedly improved. He relaxed his shoulders, eyes still closed and breathed deeply. The choir had moved from ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ to ‘Silent Night,’ one of his favorites.

I’ve really enjoyed talking with them since that day, and really, when I think about it, all it took was for me to stay calm for a change and tell them what I needed. Whatever changed, if you had a part in it, thank you.

The soloist finished singing the first verse and the choir joined in with harmonies. They sounded so good it gave him goosebumps.

Oh! Hey! While I have you, thanks for AJ. I feel like meeting him was your doing, too. Of all the bars in all of Alabama and the dude walks into the one I’m sitting in. Not to get too sappy or anything, but he’s been pretty important in my life for the last few months, too, and I feel like I’ve made a lifelong friend, so that’s nice. Though if you could help the guy out with this bipolar shit that’d be great.

He winced at using the swear word before internally chastising himself and reminding himself that God has probably heard a lot worse than a well-placed cuss.

The choir had moved on to his all-time favorite Christmas carol, ‘Oh Holy Night’, and he felt the hairs prickle at the back of his neck. This one always made him feel emotional, no matter where he was when he heard it. He breathed out a deep and cleansing breath and shifted awkwardly in his seat. He felt his mom’s hand against his own and turned his hand over so she could hold it. She’d done this for as long as he could remember. Something about this song resonated inside of him and made him fall apart, no matter how well prepared he was to hear it.

Fall on your knees, oh hear the angels’ voices!

The choir sounded better than ever and his breath hitched as their harmonies soared through the church. He’d always thought acoustics in church made for some impressive sounds and something about Christmas carols always sounded remarkable despite their simple harmonies. He felt hot tears prickle behind his still-closed eyelids. He bit down on his lip and his mom squeezed his hand in a bid to comfort him. He always felt so foolish, but she always just accepted this was going to happen and never made fun of it, sometimes she even cried with him. His dad had never mocked him for crying, either, nor had he ever made him feel foolish for feeling so strongly.

He wiped his eyes with his free hand and gave his mom’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Every time,” she whispered, sniffling.

“Every time.”

***

“That was a lovely service,” his mom reflected his own thoughts as they walked home arm-in-arm.

“It was,” agreed his dad. “We’re both very glad you’re here with us this year, Jer.”

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