Brian awoke sometime later to the sounds of Christmas music being played somewhere.  He roused up and looked around.  The music seemed to be coming from the living room.  Brian yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before getting up to investigate.  He was sure that he had turned the TV off, and none of the radios in the house would ever be tuned to a station playing nothing but Christmas music.  He slipped on his robe as he padded bare foot out of the bedroom.  As he neared the living room, he noted that the TV was indeed on and a dark figure was sitting on the couch in front of it. 

“Hello?”  He called as he slowly made his way toward the figure.  “Who’s there?”

The figure didn’t move.  It didn’t even act as if it heard Brian.  Just as Brian was wondering if he should call the police, the figure turned to face him.  

“Hey, Kiddo.”  Debbie said.  Brian looked at her stunned.  She wasn’t the Debbie he knew.  She wasn’t wearing the brightly colored clothes or the red fright wig.  

“Debbie?”

“Got it in one, Sweetie.”  She smiled.  Brian noticed that she also wore no makeup.  All the years he’d known Debbie, Brian couldn’t remember seeing without her makeup or wig.

“What the fuck?”  Brian managed.  “How the fuck did you get in here?  What?  You’ve got Mikey’s key now?”  Debbie just looked at him as if expecting something.  “Debbie, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Sure I do, Kiddo.”  Debbie said dismissively.  “It’s about 7:30am, December 25, 1981.”

“Christ.”  Brian looked at Debbie as if she’d lost her mind.  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re ten years old.”  She continued.  “And you just knew that you were getting a brand new bike.  You’d been good all year.  You did all you school work.  Brought home straight A’s at mid-term.  You just knew that you were going to get that bike.”  Brian let out an exasperated breath and closed his eyes tightly.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the living room of his old house.  He looked around in awe.  How the fuck did I get here?  He thought.  Before him in vivid color was the house he’d grown up in.  A ragged tree sat in the corner by an old console television set.  The rest of the house was sparsely decorated for Christmas.

“What?  Where?”  Brian stammered.  

“Look familiar, Kiddo?”  Debbie asked.  “You remember, don’t you?”  Brian nodded.  “You waited for that day all year.  You were so sure that Santa was going to bring you the bike you’d asked him for when you saw him at the mall.”  Brian, only half listening, saw his father sitting on the sofa as his mother passed out presents.  “You got two boxes set in front of you.”  Debbie continued.  “One box had a new sweater and a nice pair of jeans.  The other was a box of three cheap metal toy cars.  Do you remember how confused you were, Brian?”  Debbie touched Brian on the sleeve.  “You couldn’t believe that Santa could have forgotten.”  

Brian watched as his younger self fiddled with the clothes a little and unwrapped the cars from their box.  When Joan smiled, got up and headed toward the kitchen, and Jack was about to turn on the TV to find a parade or a football game, Brian’s younger self spoke up.

“I didn’t get a bike.”  

“Jesus Christ.”  Jack swore.  “What’s the matter, Sonny Boy, you didn’t get enough presents?”

“Jack, please, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”  Joan admonished. 

“Did you hear him?”  Jack asked.  “He’s asking for more.  Like we’re made of money.”

“But, Santa. . .”

“Santa?”  Jack shouted.  “There ain’t no God dammed Santa, you little shit.”  Brian looked at his father stunned.  “That’s right, Sonny Boy.  I’m Santa, and I ain’t got enough money to buy you every damned thing you want.”

“Jack, please, your language.”  Joan scolded.

“You want something else, Sonny Boy.”  Jack said angrily as he rose from his chair pulling his belt from the loops of his trousers.  “I’ll give you something else, alright.”

Brian watched in horror as his father advanced on Young Brian.

“No!”  Brian shouted.  

“He can’t hear you, Kiddo.”  Debbie said causing Brian to jump.  “This has already happened anyway.  You couldn’t change it even if you wanted to.”

“Stop.”  Brian whispered turning away from the scene.  “Please make it stop.”

Suddenly the sounds of a leather belt slapping against skin stopped.  The screaming and crying was also silenced.  Brian’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been removed from them.  He took a shuddering breath and looked up.

Now, he was standing in front of the Novotny household.  He noticed that it didn’t look quite so run down.  He saw a tree in the window and movement within.

“Why are we here?”  He asked in a strained voice.

“Well, it’s Christmas day.” Debbie said.  “1984.”  Brian took a shuddering breath.  “You remember this one.  It was the year you met Michael.”  Brian nodded.  “You hardly spent any time at home any more.  And, when you showed up at breakfast that morning, it was just accepted.”  

The scene changed and Brian was inside the house.  Debbie was in the kitchen making breakfast as a teenaged Michael and Brian came down the steps.  Debbie looked up when she heard them and smiled.

“Morning boys.”  Debbie called.  “I’m making pancakes, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“You bet we are, Ma.”  Michael said with a smile.

“Merry Christmas, M, um, Debbie.”  Brian said as he took a seat at the table.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

“You almost called her mom, didn’t you?”  Spirit Debbie asked.  Brian said nothing.  “In fact, she had become more like a mother to you than Joan Kinney even had been, huh?”  Brian remained silent watching.

“Time for presents, right, Ma?”  Michael called as he and teenage Brian put their breakfast dishes in the sink.

“Right-o, Baby.”  Debbie called.

Michael ran to the tree first and pulled out a small box.  He walked over and shoved it at teenage Brian.

“Here, Brian.”  Michael said smiling from ear to ear.  “This is for you.”

“Oh, Mikey.”  Teenage Brian began.  “I couldn’t get you anything.  I told you that.”

“Don’t matter none.”  Michael said.  “I wanted to get you something.”

Bewildered Brian took the box and opened it.  Inside was a picture of them that Michael had insisted they take in one of those picture booths.  Michael had framed half the pictures.

“Wow, Mikey.”  Teenage Brian said.  “This is so cool.”

“I have the other two pictures in a frame upstairs.”  Michael said.  “This way, we’ll always have something to remember each other by.”

Teenage Brian was overcome by emotion.  Adult Brian was, too.

“Brian.”  Spirit Debbie said.  “Time to go.”

“No, not yet.”  Brian said.  “We’re going to watch Rudolph and I’m going to tease Mikey for knowing the words to all the songs.”  Brian turned to Debbie with tears in his eyes.  “Please, just a little while longer.”

“I’m sorry, Kiddo.”  Spirit Debbie said.  “Gotta get you home.  You have a lot more to see tonight, remember.”

“Please.”

“No can do, Kiddo.”  Spirit Debbie said.  “Come on.”

--

Brian awoke with a start and looked around his bedroom.  No Debbie.  No Christmas past.  He ran his hand over his face and was surprised to find it wet.  He had been crying just like in his dream.  He took a shuddering breath then began to cry harder.  Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep.  But, his journey was not over yet.

End Chapter Two