Civil Twilight

Loudly, the door slams shut, shoved by a sudden gust of wind. It had been a long week and Jim was glad to be home. Wearily, he crosses the stained carpet floor of his shabby one-bedroom apartment and sets a handle of bourbon on the kitchen table. A worn mattress, covered by a quilt and two pillows lay on the linoleum next to the dinette set.

This December is the coldest he could remember in his twenty-six years. To conserve heat, the bedroom door and windows had been sealed with sheets of clear plastic and duct tape. Tattered remains of the makeshift insulation now litter the room but yet it felt warmer than he recalled.

Colored lights of a Christmas tree dance on the walls in stark contrast to the grey fog surrounding his soul. Draped in sadness, he carefully examines an ornament hanging near the top. Two puppies, one brown, one black, are emblazoned above the words: Jim & Tina Dyer, First Christmas, 2020. Among the strings of popcorn and pine cones, he finds five more similar ornaments adorned with their names and the year together it represented. Reminiscing her glow, as she shared each year’s commemorative decoration, warms him from within till overtaken by remorse. Tomorrow would be the first Christmas morning he would wake up without her and it was all his fault.

Losing his job was just the first step towards losing her. As understanding as she was, his combative nature and heavy drinking drove an ever-widening wedge between them. It came to a head last week when the electric was cut off and she said she was leaving.

Driven by regret, he returns to the bottle that fueled the fires of discontent and pours himself a shot. He looks at it a long, hard minute before he raises it to his lips and takes the first sip. Warmth races through his veins setting fire to his frozen heart. Once the initial burst of liquid heat cools, he sips again, this time draining half of the contents.

“If only she’d let me apologize,” he wishes aloud.

Hours pass like toilet water circling the drain and his single shots turn to doubles on the rocks, quickly knocking the head and shoulders off the bottle of booze. Unfazed, he stares into the twinkling lights of the tree as the clock on the wall chimes midnight. Before he can wander down the rabbit hole of Christmas past, a rap on the door drags him out of his stupor.

“Who can that be this time of night?” he thinks to himself.

Knocking back the remainder of his glass, he slowly rises and goes to the door. Cautiously opening it, he is unprepared for what lay on the other side. Standing in the doorway, Tina awaits an invitation to enter.

Light blonde curls frame her slight, fair skinned face that glows as if recently sunburnt. Wearing long, black satin gloves, sleeved evening gown, and a feather boa, she is the picture of elegance. Jim stares blankly before words finally fall.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he confides.

Shivering, she smiles as only she can. Regaining his wits, he welcomes her in and offers to take her boa and gloves.

“You know I’m always cold,” she reminds him.

“How about a drink to warm your bones?” he offers.

“Just the one, I can’t stay long.”

He pours her two fingers then refills his own. Sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, they both gaze into their glasses. Heavy silence falls on the room like a blanket of snow.

Breaking the mounting tension, Jim speaks first.

“The lights twinkling in your eyes reminds me of our first Christmas together. When you got in an argument with your mother over her fancy, designer tree.”

“She threw out the family tree we’d had since I was a little girl and replaced it with a sterile work of art. Those faux pieces are fine for public places like hotel lobbies or restaurants but family Christmas trees are supposed to be gaudy… and overloaded with memories.”

Giggling over the shared experience, their eyes lock.

“I’ve missed you,” he states flatly. “I know it’s only been a week but… I miss you.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she admits. “I didn’t want to leave, but you gave me no choice.”

“I know.”

Eventually, Jim gets bourbon tongue and decides he needs a mixer to alter the flavor he’s consumed continuously for hours on end. Retrieving a tall, thermos cup, he pours a double shot followed a bottle of Ale 8 One and a handful of ice cubes.

“Here’s to a good ole Kentucky Cocktail,” he toasts before taking a deep swig.

An uncomfortable yet familiar look of dread crosses Tina’s concerned face. Feeling her unease, Jim desperately searches for a way to change the subject.

“Robert is coming over to pick me up in the morning,” he relates. “He’ll be here around eight.”

“Spending time with your brother and his family is probably the best thing for you right now,” she says.

Depression and desperation wipe Jim’s face clean of all expression as he bolsters his courage.

“I have a confession,” he laments. “I lied when I told you I got robbed. I spent the money for the electric bill at the bar. Obviously… I have a problem. I’m so sorry.”

He hangs his head in shame after finishing off his mixed drink and pouring another. Pregnant moments pass before she responds.

“I know. But it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all in the past.”

“It feels good to hear you say that,” he sighs. “You’ll have to excuse me a minute, these Ale 8’s are catching up to me. I’ll be right back.”

Unsteadily, Jim stands. Smiling through the sadness, he looks at her for several long moments before stumbling into the bathroom.

Returning to the kitchen area, he finds Tina, still seated. She grins and points to the Christmas tree.

“I got you a present. I already put it under the tree.”

Bourbon addled eyes search the empty space beneath the tree, finding nothing. Dismayed, he turns back to her inquisitively.

“Look harder.”

Dropping to his hands and knees, Jim crawls underneath. In the back corner, buried in the tree skirt, he uncovers a small, candy cane colored box adorned with red ribbon curls. Twinkling, colored lights reflect on the white stripes making it appear to sparkle. Basking in the warm glow, Jim pauses before retrieving the package.

Standing up, dizziness overtakes him and he nearly falls, head first, into the tree. Catching his balance at the last second, he silently berates himself for almost ruining this moment like he had so many others.

Sheepishly, he looks at the buried treasure in his hands and returns to his seat across from Tina. Filled with drunken shame, he pours another tall glass and drinks half of it before his attention returns to the unopened present waiting for him on the table.

Shaking hands pull ribbons and tear paper, revealing a simple black box. Slowly, he removes the lid.

“Do you like it?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Next to you, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Through the window, the faintest hint of sunlight is suggested.

“I’ve always loved this time period,” she muses. “Civil twilight. The magic transition between the black of night and the new day. But it also tells me it’s time to go. I shouldn’t be here when your brother arrives. I am glad we got a chance to talk.”

“I don’t want to stay here,” he admits. “I want to go with you.”

Her sparkling blue eyes stare deeply into his soggy browns before responding.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Then finish your drink and we’ll go.”

With those words, the saddest joy falls on her face. Jim raises his glass in a mock toast then kills it. Standing, Tina offers her gloved palm to Jim. Accepting her invitation, they leave the apartment together, hand in hand.

Shortly thereafter, as sunlight eventually streaks into the room, a loud knock interrupts the silence.

“Mr. Dyer, It’s your landlord. If you don’t open the door, we’re coming in.”

Quiet seconds pass with no reply. Keys jingle in the lock and the door opens. The landlord enters, followed closely by Jim’s brother, Robert. A gust of wind slams the door behind them.

“Damn it, Jim,” Robert sighs.

Before him, Jim lay face down at the table, already stiffening. The large bottle of bourbon was well over three quarters empty. Torn gift wrapping and an empty glass sit near his head while another drink remained untouched across the table. Clutched in his hand was a new Christmas ornament of an ultrasound with the inscription, The Dyer Family 2025 Baby’s First Christmas.

Robert picks up the keepsake and chokes back a wave of emotion.

“She was pregnant? If I thought this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have paid his bail yesterday,” Robert says chastising himself.

“Not to be insensitive, but the jerk had it coming, you ask me,” says the landlord with a hint of self-righteousness. “He didn’t pay his electric bill and they shut it off. Then to make matters worse, he sealed up the place with all that plastic and duct tape and tried to use the gas oven for heat. When he snuck off in the middle of the night to go drinking, the pilot light blew out and filled this place up with fumes. He came back just before sun up and found her laying there dead, her skin dyed red from severe carbon monoxide poisoning. I had to pay to have the electric turned back on so I could run fans to air it out. It took all week.”

Despite the harsh truth of the situation, Robert loved his older brother and wishes he could have done more. He finds himself in front of the tree as the landlord calls the local police. Carefully choosing an appropriate spot, Jim’s brother places the new ornament on the tree alongside another containing a picture of the couple dressed in ugly, matching sweaters. Just for a brief glimmer of a moment, Robert feels as if the smiles in the photo are directed at him.