A Cup of Good Cheer

Timothy sits in the coffee shop, and the holiday music plays in the background; he tries to tune it out. The scent of Peppermint is baked into the air, staining the taste of his black coffee. He is tempted to ask for a new one, but he doesn’t want to bother the already overwhelmed barista.

Each sip reminded him of his mom, which made the cloying sweetness feel like ash in his mouth. She is gone; Christmas had been her season. She always made it feel magical, even when he was grown. Without her, it didn't seem worth it this year.

The pain in his chest wells up again, and he debates leaving the coffee shop. Eve is late, which isn’t surprising, but had he remembered how late Eve often is, he would have stayed in his car. He's done so well at avoiding Christmas this year, but this might just do him in. He should text Eve that he can't do this today; she’d understand, she always did. It’s why he wanted to see her so badly.

As he prepares to leave the coffee shop when Eve walks in. “Tim!” she waves at him. She sets a bag on the chair across from him and goes to get, no doubt, some Christmas limited-time drink.

To his surprise, she sits down with a white chocolate. He raises an eyebrow, "What, no Christmas drink?" he teases.

"Not today." She smiles. "Here, Mama sent your favourites." She slides a simple blue tin across the table.

"You'll have to thank her for me." His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"They are packed in such a way that they can be easily frozen." Eve pauses, "She also wants me to remind you that you are welcome with us for Christmas. I tried to explain, but you know how she is."

"Tell her I'll think about it." He takes a sip of his coffee.

"I know you said no gift this year, but remember that old box that Granny gave me, I was telling you about?” He nods skeptically. “Well, these were in there, and I think you need them."

Tim watches her slide the box across the table, but he doesn’t move to take it. "Eve, I really don't-"

"I know, but they don't belong with me. They belong with you. You don't have to open it today."

She sips her hot chocolate, and they talk about everything other than Christmas. He even talks about his mom again. The tightness in his chest lessens. He tucks the box and cookie tin under his arm and walks out with Eve.

"Thanks for meeting with me. I know you have a bunch of holiday things going on."

"Hey, I'll always make time for you. Call me anytime." They approach his car, and Eve pulls him into a hug. At first, it feels like the hugs they’d share before, but then she doesn’t let go and squeezes a bit tighter. The weight of the last few months lands, and he holds her tighter, trying not to fall apart in the coffee shop parking lot. She whispers, "I mean it, anytime."

"I know. And I promise I'll really think about your mom's invitation."

"Good, oh! And don't be surprised if the boys insist on inviting Uncle Tim to the Christmas Play. I'm not sure my sister can convince them not to."

"I already have it marked in my calendar. I may not be in a Christmas mood, but I won't let the twins down." They share a smile, and Eve heads to her car.

Tim drives back to the house. He slips into his studio apartment they'd built over the garage. His parents had it built when he was in college, so he had his own space to come home to. When his dad passed, Tim had moved back home into this little space so his mom wasn't alone.

He owned the house now, but he wasn't sure he could live there; he wasn't sure selling or renting it was the answer. After Christmas, that was an after-Christmas problem. He puts the cookie tin straight into the freezer and sets the gift on the coffee table. Eve hadn't even wrapped it in Christmas paper; it's in a simple brown paper.

He sits on his small sofa and stares at the box; he wants to open it. Part of him wishes he'd set up some kind of Christmas thing, but at the same time, it still stings. He places the box in his lap, and he slowly tears into the paper and lifts open the box.

Inside, carefully wrapped in paper are little trains, "Oh... Eve...." Ignoring his tears, he picks up each one, the cheery red caboos with gingerbread men waving from the windows, the open car with teddy bears piled like coal would be, and the train car his mother always wanted but thought she’d never find, a train car with a doll being finished by an elf. "It completes Mom’s set."

He knows exactly where the rest of the set is. He races into his mom's house and climbs into the attic, and finds his mom's box of Christmas decor, her box of the holiday train decorations is right on top. He also grabs the Advent wreath box and takes both boxes back to his garage apartment.

He sets up the Advent wreath first on the coffee table, taking his time to make it look like Mom would have liked. He then pulls out the train set and puts it up just like she would have, only he sets it up around the wreath. Once Tim sets up the pieces that belonged to his mother, he places the new pieces where she always said they would go when she found them. For the first time in months, his smile doesn't feel forced. "I miss you, Mom."

He lights the Christ candle in the center of the wreath, breaking tradition, but it just felt right. Mom would understand.

He thought about how thrilled his mom would have been to see this set complete. He picks up his phone and snaps a photo, and sends it to Eve with a simple "Thank you." He sits back and lets the candlelight dance across the train set pieces, both old and new. While the pain was still there for a moment, it didn't sting so badly. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”