Christmas In Paris by C. Joseph Smith

Christmas In Paris
by C. Joseph Smith

It began Thanksgiving night, while they were cleaning up the dishes. It was 11 PM, a late hour for Judy.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Ted. “As good as usual.”

“It could have been better?”

“Let’s face it,” said Ted. “Thanksgiving is a chore. We spend all day preparing for the feast. The guests arrive at three o’clock and after words of welcome we are back in the kitchen. We float in and out while they enjoy themselves in the living room. Then we announce dinner and have to hustle to get it all on the table still hot. We eat, bring more food, eat some more and then, if we’re lucky, they sit for an hour or so after the pie. Then, they’re gone and we’re left with the dishes. I feel like a servant.”

Judy nodded. “And, every year we say next year will be different. We’ll eat at a restaurant or go to someone else’s house, but we never do.”

“It wouldn’t be as good at a restaurant,” argued Ted. “We’d avoid the work, but the guests wouldn’t feel like they had been to Thanksgiving. It would just be another dinner out.”

“Maybe it’s the tradition that’s important,” said Judy. “We’ve hosted dinner for the same group of people for thirteen years.”

“Yes, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s boring. Uncle Fred always shows up late. Tommy arrives early. The chitchat is about the last election and the weather and what we’re doing for Christmas.”

“What are we doing for Christmas?” asked Judy.

“Presumably what we always do. Christmas Eve at your folks and Christmas Day at my brother’s.”

Judy sighed as she fished the last spoon from the greasy dishwater. Ted lifted two of the cut crystal glasses from the row on the counter and poured the last of the merlot into them.

“Tell you what,” he said brightly, offering one of the glasses. “Let’s do something different this year.”

“Like what?” asked Judy.

“We could stay home,” said Ted. “Just the two of us. A romantic Christmas alone.”

“That would last about three minutes,” said Judy. “The phone would ring off the hook. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Why aren’t you coming?’” She sipped the wine.

“Then let’s go somewhere,” said Ted.

“Like where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. We could drive to Omaha.”

“Great,” said Judy. “I can just see us at the Holiday Inn in Omaha. And the phone would still ring off the hook.”

“I guess we’re stuck,” admitted Ted.

“No,” said Judy, brightening. “We just have to go far enough away that we’re beyond reach. And it has to be someplace special. A destination. A place people go for a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. A place not even your mother could object to.”

“You mean, like Hawaii?”

“Maybe,” said Judy. “But, I was thinking Paris? How about Christmas in Paris?”

“Paris?” cried Ted. “We’ve never even been to London.”

“Exactly my point,” said Judy. “We’ve never been anywhere. We host Thanksgiving, spend Christmas with the relatives, and never do anything romantic. Just once, wouldn’t you like to have a real adventure?”

“Christmas in Paris,” said Ted, rolling the idea around. “We’d have to leave a few days before, because of the time zones.”

“We’ll arrive early on Christmas Eve,” said Judy. “Stay at the Place de la Something-Or-Other Hotel.”

“Supper in a small café,” said Ted.

“Yes, and midnight mass at Notre Dame. Ted, let’s do it! It will be wonderful!”

“What about your parents?” asked Ted.

“They can plan their own trip,” declared Judy. She raised her glass. “To Paris!”

“To Paris!” agreed Ted, and they sealed the bargain with wine.

On the day before Christmas Eve, around noon, they stood in line at JFK Airport, Gate 36A, to check in for the Paris flight. When they reached the desk, Judy noticed a change in the electronic sign on the wall.

“What does that mean?” she asked the clerk, pointing to the sign. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Delayed. Let me call to find out.” He reached under the counter for a phone.

“Just our luck,” said Ted quietly. “We fly all the way from Omaha only to be stranded at JFK.”

“It says delayed, not canceled,” said Judy. “I can see the plane through the window. Stop worrying.”

“The airplane needs a part replaced,” said the clerk. “It will only hold you up about an hour.”

Ted and Judy found an empty bench near the window and settled down to wait.

“What’s the delay?” asked a young woman nearby.

“They have to replace a part,” said Judy. “It will take an hour.”

“I hope they don’t cancel the flight,” said the woman.

“Is this your first trip to Paris?” asked Judy.

“Yes, and I don’t even have a seat on the plane. I’m number one on the standby list.”

“It’s a last minute trip?”

The woman nodded. “I’m meeting my husband. He’s in the Navy and his ship is somewhere along the coast of France. He got leave to meet me for Christmas . . . if I can get there.”

“How long has he been away?” asked Judy.

“Eight months. He’s on a submarine.”

“I hope you make it,” said Ted.

At 2 PM the announcement came.

“Ladies and gentleman in the boarding area for Air France flight 8736 to Paris, we are sorry to keep you waiting. Unfortunately, the repair crew has not been able to locate the part they need for the plane at this airport. They are calling over to La Guardia and Newark to see if any other airline has the part. This flight has been rescheduled as a special flight to leave at 7 PM this evening. That assumes the part is found in the next two hours. If the part cannot be located by 4 PM, this flight will be canceled. You may leave the boarding area, but please check back with us no later than 5 PM. Thank you.”

“Doesn’t look good,” said Ted. “If we leave at seven o’clock, we won’t get in until late tomorrow.”

“We’ll still be in time for Christmas, sweetie.”

“Unless the flight is canceled,” said Ted.

They were not used to the airport waiting game and time dragged. They walked to the gift shop and perused the paperbacks, side by side.

After a while, Judy said, “Honey, I’ve been thinking about that poor woman whose husband is waiting for her in Paris.”

“What about her?” asked Ted.

“Maybe we should do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It just seems tragic somehow. What if this is her last chance to see him? What if something happens to him and she never sees him again. I would feel awful.”

“Why would you feel awful? In the first place, you’ll never know about it. In the second place, the man’s on a submarine and we are not at war. If he dies in the near future it’ll be from boredom.”

“Fine,” snipped Judy.

“You’re not suggesting, I hope, that we give up our tickets so she can get on the plane.”

“Of course not,” she fired back. “But, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t see Paris. In fact, I’m trying to remember what was so terrible about Christmas at home.”

They were facing each other now and their discussion was attracting some attention from other gift shop customers.

“As I recall, Honey, this trip was your idea.”

“Sure it was, but you agreed readily enough, didn’t you. Admit it. You never want to spend Christmas Eve with my folks.”

“Oh, God,” said Ted turning away. “I’ll see you at the gate.”

He was trapped now, he knew. If the plane left without the Navy wife he might as well write off the trip.

“Yes,” said the clerk, “That young woman, Mrs. Staples, is still number one on the standby list.”

“Do you think she’ll get on?” asked Ted.

“Unlikely,” he replied. “Everyone has checked in and the flight is completely filled. Except for one seat in first class.”

“There’s a seat in first class? Why don’t you give her that?”

“I offered it to her,” he said, “but she didn’t want to pay the fare upgrade.”

“How much is it?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

Ted was incredulous. “Six hundred!”

The clerk nodded.

That was a lot of money to Ted, but he thought of all the other money that would be wasted if his wife didn’t calm down.

“Suppose I pay it. Would she have to know?”

“No, but I already told her that Air France doesn’t make free upgrades.”

Ted thought about putting his wife in first class. That was probably a mistake, leaving her alone. And that would leave him sitting with the Navy wife. Nor would it be a good idea for him to sit in first class and let the two of them chat for seven hours.

“How about upgrading someone else?” proposed Ted.

“Pardon me?” asked the clerk.

“Upgrade someone else. Pick another single passenger and upgrade him to first class. Then give the coach seat to the lady.”

“You want to pay $600 to upgrade a total stranger to first class so Mrs. Staples can ride along in coach?”

“Right.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “Santa Claus?” Not expecting a reply, he started clicking away on his keyboard.

All had been accomplished by four o’clock, when Judy returned quietly to the gate.

“Sorry,” said Ted.

“It’s okay,” she replied.

“Listen, I talked to the gate agent and they found a seat for the Navy wife.”

“That’s great,” said Judy, but with no enthusiasm. Ted felt the loss of his six hundred bucks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Air France announces the further delay of Flight 8736 to Paris, which will now depart at 9 PM I have been advised that the maintenance crew has located a part in Washington, D.C., which is being flown up at this very moment. Flight 8736 will leave at 9 PM tonight and will not be canceled.”

A few people applauded. Ted turned to Judy hopefully.

“Shall we get some dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

A full hour later, Judy perked up.

“Let’s go into New York City,” she proposed.

“Go into New York? We’ve only got four hours until the plane leaves.”

“What if we didn’t go to Paris? What if we spent Christmas in New York?”

Ted closed his eyes. Please God, he thought.

Then, with a sigh, he opened them again and twisted in his seat to face his wife.

“Judy,” he began, “Why don’t we just get a flight home. We can easily be there for Christmas Eve.”

“No, no,” said Judy. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to New York City. It will be great.” She thought of all the places she had read about. “We can see the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. Supper at Sardi’s. Midnight Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”

Ted felt helpless. “You don’t want to go to Paris?”

Judy turned cold. “Why can’t you ever accept what I say without grilling me about it?”

“Okay, okay,” said Ted. He turned away and said softly, mostly to himself, “Our suitcases are probably already on the plane. I’ll have to see if they will send them to our hotel . . . if I can find a hotel that will take us.”

Incredibly, an hour later they had completed a cab journey through the maze of highways and traffic and were standing at the desk of the Fountainbleu Royale Hotel, on Central Park South.

“It even sounds French,” muttered Ted to himself.

“Excuse me, Sir?” said the desk clerk.

“I called from the airport,” said Ted. “Simmons. You said you had a room available.”

“Yes, Sir. I have only one suite left. It has two queen beds and a fireplace and it faces Central Park. It is $675 per night.”

Ted winced. Even the hotel in Paris was only $375. “May we see it?” he asked.

“Of course,” said the clerk. He reached for a key card and ran it through a device on the counter and handed it to Ted. “Room 2632. Take the elevators on your left to the 26^th floor. Slide the card in the slot on the door.”

“Thank you,” said Ted. He turned to Judy, but she had wandered across the lobby to look at the fountain. Three tiers of water cascaded into a pool with various sizes of huge blue Christmas tree ornaments afloat.

“Are you ready, Honey?” he asked.

She followed him to the elevator without a word. When they entered the room, her face brightened.

“Oh, Ted! It’s fabulous.” There were three rooms, including a small living room. She walked quickly through them, exclaiming at each new wonder. “There’s a Jacuzzi in the bathroom!” she called out. “And it’s not a tub! It’s just a Jacuzzi!”

She joined Ted by the window to see the view. It was dark, now, and below them, in the corner of the park, they saw a large kidney-shaped puddle of light, with tiny dots of people swarming over it.

“It’s a skating rink!” exclaimed Judy. “She turned to Ted. Her eyes were glowing as he had not seen them glow in years - her anger vanished. “Oh, Ted, let’s!” She bubbled. “I haven’t skated since college. Do you remember? Potters Pond?”

She slid her hand around his arm at the elbow and faced the picture below, leaning on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said softly. He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her fragrance. “Let’s go skating.”

In the park, they quickly rented skates and found a bench to change into them. Soon they were gliding across the ice. Or, at least Judy was gliding. She had been a pretty decent skater in her day, but Ted felt lucky if he didn’t fall down.

“Here,” said Judy, appearing beside him. “Take my hand.” They skated together, a duet on ice. On impulse, Judy rotated until she was skating backwards, in front of Ted.

“Remember our ballroom lessons?” she asked.

Ted tried as best he could to move into dance position. They managed to dance-skate around a quarter of the rink. A young girl noticed them.

“Are you in the Olympics?” the girl asked him, wide-eyed.

Ted was warmed by the compliment, but only smiled.

After a few laps, Ted’s ankles felt wobbly. He steered to an empty stretch of ice along the far rail and they glided to a stop. Judy hugged him and buried her face into his coat.

He thought he heard her say, “I’m sorry Ted.”

Then she lifted her face. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted.

“Look at me,” she said. “I’m forty. My hair is all grey if I don’t dye it. And look at these wrinkles.” She lifted her gloved hand to touch the side of her face.

“I don’t see them,” said Ted.

“Have we done the right thing?” she asked.

“Honey, we can still go home,” said Ted.

“No, I mean we never had any children. And we haven’t really done anything, have we? I mean, people without children usually accomplish something, don’t they?”

“Well, we’ve managed to stay married for twenty years,” said Ted, “which is more than most people. And we’ve been a terrific aunt and uncle, and devoted to our parents.”

“I suppose,” said Judy. “But it still feels like something is missing.”

Ted pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. Then he placed his warm palms on each of Judy’s cold cheeks and put his forehead to hers.

“What’s missing, Sweetheart, is this.” He kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. For a moment, she gave in to him, but then pulled back.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said.

“Honey, it doesn’t matter where we are for Christmas, or any other holiday. For me, at least, I’m happy if you are with me.”

“But, I’m always with you,” said Judy. “It didn’t help at Thanksgiving.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. How can I explain.” Ted bowed his head a moment before continuing. “I need to connect with you. When we are with other people, doing things, especially with family, we seem to almost ignore each other. You get distracted, or I do, catering to everyone’s demands. I feel alone. My fears creep in.”

“What fears?” asked Judy.

Ted held his face next to hers, so that he did not have to look into her eyes as he spoke. He whispered, “That you don’t love me anymore. That you’ll leave me, or I’ll leave you.”

She pushed back to face him. “I will never leave you, Ted.”

She looked at his eyes and smiled. “Don’t do that. You’ll make icicles.”

Ted laughed. Holding her arm, he pushed off and they skated along the railing, slowly.

“I wish we hadn’t given our seats away,” said Judy.

“Let’s just go home,” said Ted. “We can be there in time for Christmas. There’s a red-eye flight to Omaha.”

“What about the hotel room?”

“I never checked in,” said Ted. “It was really too much money.”

Judy laughed. “Where can we get a cab?”

Another hour passed, and they had returned to JFK.

“I suppose our luggage will show up at the hotel,” said Judy.

“It’s okay,” said Ted. “It doesn’t matter.”

They passed through security. Judy followed him down the long corridors, thinking about how surprised everyone at home would be. They arrived at the gate.

Judy was confused. “Ted, this is Air France.”

Ted grinned. “I never turned in the boarding passes.”

“But our luggage?”

“In the belly of the plane.”

Judy melted into his embrace. “I do love you, Sweetheart.”

“I know,” said Ted.

He handed in the passes and they walked through the open door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

C. Joseph Smith writes short fiction, poetry, and comic plays. He has previously published a series of children’s stories on-line, and his plays have been produced in San Francisco and Hollywood. Mr. Smith lives in San Francisco, where he draws inspiration from his work as an attorney and professional trustee.

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