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“Greeting cards have all been sent
The Christmas rush is through
But I still have one wish to make…”
Ethan debated turning the song down, then decided against it, focusing back on the road. It was one of his old favorites, and he’d yet to have his long-expected Christmas cry. He might as well get all those emotions out now and hopefully be able to enjoy the actual holiday.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Christmas or always had a bad time. Most years weren’t bad, even the many spent as an agent. But it also made him sentimental for other times, things he couldn’t have anymore.
Ethan did still love Christmas, but—well, it was hard to enjoy the things that’d made it special when he was a kid. Snow, lots of candles, Ma’s favorite records. Food, Christmas Eve service at church, Dad pointing out the constellations in the winter sky on the way home.
“The lights on my tree, I wish you could see…”
There wasn’t always snow wherever he was on that day, and the food was never what they had back home. ‘Course, family Christmas hadn’t been what it was ever since his Dad got sick and Ethan first left home. He’d mostly avoided visiting in December through the intervening years until his mother’s passing. He still wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but it didn’t hurt as bad.
The song ended and another familiar melody began. He was beginning to think that this might have been a bad idea.
“Well, I’m all grown up now,
And still need help somehow…”
There’d been several lovely Christmases with Julia. They’d listened to different music and didn’t always go to a Lutheran church on Christmas Eve, if they went. But they made their own traditions, watching movies snuggled up on the couch and driving around looking at lights. And he did bring his Dad’s potatoes to Christmas with Julia’s family.
“No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
That time would heal all hurt…”
He’d cried much harder on the first Christmas without her. Of course, it was in a Russian prison, so that probably made it worse. The next year, Luther cornered him and refused to let him spend it alone. Benji joined them the next year, since it didn’t work out for him to make it home for Christmas. Ethan wondered if his experience that year—an excellent spread of food, card game tournament, and Ethan ending up in tears from Emmett Otter’s Jugband Christmas—influenced his decision to stick around for years to come.
He wondered where everyone else spent the season. Agents like Jane, Zhen, Declan, and Brandt all had to work sometimes, and not everyone celebrated, but some of them did have families they could visit. Julia couldn’t go home either—God, he hoped she had people to spend it with too. Did Ilsa have anyone, or was she alone? Wherever she was, he decided they would find a way to invite her next year.
Amy Grant’s voice faded out, though Ethan’s relief was short lived as soft chimes gave way to heartfelt messages. Who was running this station?
“I am dreaming tonight of a place I love
Even more than I usually do…”
Oh, no. By the time Josh Groban started singing, Ethan needed to wipe his eyes so he could see and not crash. A welcome red light appeared and he gratefully took his time, finding a dry patch on his sleeve. They really needed to put tissues in these cars.
Ethan sighed, glancing around. There was a Christmas tree lot, still open in case anyone still wanted a tree this close to Christmas. Not that there were many left— all the big, full trees must’ve been bought already, leaving a few misfit, oddly shaped ones behind. There was one nearest the road, closest to him, that looked particularly scrawny. He could count the branches on it, there were so few. It probably was shorter than him, even with the one limb sticking out towards the top. The needles were a nice green still, like it wanted to be as pretty as possible in case it might still be picked. It just looked so sad.
He quickly turned back to the road. The light was gonna turn green any minute now—
“I’ll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams…”
/\/\/\/\/\
“So then you…went into some kind of fugue state—“
“Yes.”
“And next thing you knew, you’d bought a Christmas tree.”
“Yes.”
Luther sighed. “You know we don’t have any ornaments or lights, you know?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Ethan said. Luther shook his head, chuckling. Still corny, Ethan.
The tree didn’t look so bad inside. It was still scrawny, and certainly shorter than Ethan, but it seemed brighter, no longer lonely and sad. The door thudded open and closed.
“Just me, bearing gifts I traverse—“ Benji called, moving closer. “Why do we have a tree?”
Ethan grinned. “You know, it’s all kind of a blur.”