KRISTAL
“Don’t jump, Melvin! Don’t jump!”
Ironically Rodge jumps out of the shuttle’s front passenger seat yelling this before Siobhan has fully come to a stop.
He runs through the snow to address the man standing on the roof of a three-story house.
The man above us looks like Rodge’s exact opposite. He’s thinner and shorter and balding. And he’s wearing glasses that probably aren’t just for reading and a bright blue puffy Patagonia jacket. He doesn’t appear hardy like Rodge at all, and it’s hard to imagine them as longtime friends.
“Rodge? What are you doing here?” The man standing on the roof looks much more surprised to see us than we are him. But then he folds his arms defensively and says, “I thought you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore. Isn’t that what you said back in October?”
“I didn’t mean it, you damn fool,” Rodge calls back. “And what kind of candy ass whiner throws himself off a roof just because I said I didn’t want to spend my Thursdays with you anymore.”
“Uncle Rodge, this probably isn’t the time to badger him,” Siobhan points out. “Obviously, he’s really upset.”
“Copy that,” I agree with Siobhan before cupping my hands to give Melvin a speech about how magical life is, and how it was too precious to be ended in a moment of despair.
But before I can, the town clerk yells down to Rodge, “I’m not upset. I’m stuck, you cranky old coot. I was trying to take down the Christmas lights myself this year since the guy who usually does it for me decided he didn’t want to be my friend anymore. And it was going okay until the ladder fell.”
“The ladder…” Rodge repeats, his cantankerous voice faltering. At the same time, all of our eyes go to the ground right below the roof. Sure enough, there’s a ladder lying sideways in the snow.
“I was just about to try to climb down to the attic window ledge when you came running up and accused me of trying to kill myself,” Melvin explains.
“Dear Baby Jesus,” Maeve says, crossing herself again. “That’s how he would have died if us lot hadn’t gotten here in time.”
Rodge blinks several times. It looks to me like he’s battling tears.
But in the end, he resets to his usual grouchy self, yelling at Declan, “What’re doing just standing around? Use that Marine training of yours and get him down.”
Declan and Siobhan do just that, launching into action at the same time. They repost the ladder against the house, and hold it steady as Melvin carefully climbs down.
But Rodge doesn’t seem the slightest bit relieved as his friend comes down the ladder. In fact, the closer Melvin gets to the ground, the more furious the innkeeper appears.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he explodes as soon as the town clerk’s foot touches the ground.
Rodge stomps over to the thin, tweedy man and spins him around, one fist bunched like he plans to knock him out. “You’re not even Christian. The only reason I put up lights for you is because I knew that’s what Kathy would have wanted. And her Jewish twerp of a husband couldn’t handle the job.”
I gasp. Since Santa is technically a pagan spirit who adapted his image to fit in with the gods of both Christianity and Consumerism, all denominations are welcomed and celebrated at the workshop. Of course, I’d heard of anti-Semitism, and even studied it during one of the Atrocities modules of our four-year-long Human History requirement course back in Elf School. But I had never seen an example of it up close until now.
I’m not sure how to handle this. My cousin Krista is great at confronting conflict head-on with a sunny smile. However, I’m more of a sit in the corner and draw until everyone stops yelling kind of elf. I start to shrink back, only to remember WWSD—what would Santa Do? That’s the code all of us elves live by.
Taking a deep breath, I step between Melvin and Rodge to say, “Maybe let’s look at this as less of a mistake and more of a 12 Days of Christmas miracle? We got here just in time, and because of that, Melvin’s still alive. That’s a huge yay, right? And a good reason to make up and become best friends again.”
A beat of silence.
Then Melvin looks past me to yell at Rodge. “Kathy, Kathy, Kathy! That’s all you care about! You put up Christmas lights for her, even though I’m Jewish, and she died seven years ago! I can’t even talk to you about moving on and dating somebody else, because you don’t want anybody to replace your saint of a sister. Nothing I do will ever be enough for you, will it? If I move on, I’m destroying her memory. If I try to put up Christmas lights, just like you would have, I’m an idiot. Right now, I’m wondering why you bothered to rush over here, since apparently I’m too stupid to live.”
I look to Rodge, hoping he’ll deny or at least counter Melvin’s accusations. But Rodge just frowns down at him, the expression on his large craggy face even harsher than usual.
“Let’s get back to the shuttle,” he says to the rest of us. “I’m done here.”
Melvin’s face falls. And suddenly he’s not so defensive. “Rodge. Rodge, c’mon, I didn’t mean it. It’s just I miss you. Miss dinners on Thursdays and knowing that there’s someone I can call to do stuff around the house like this. This was the first Christmas I didn’t see you since Kathy and I got married and it was hard—harder than I expected. That’s the only reason I hung Christmas lights, and stupidly tried to get them down on my own—”
He cuts off when Rodge turns and starts walking away. Like Melvin is insulting him and not trying to mend their friendship.
“Rodge!” I call after him. “Rodge, come back…”
But the older innkeeper continues toward the van, like he doesn’t hear me.
And I desperately glance at Hayato.
I know he doesn’t care one iota about any of these people, especially now that Declan has decided to stay on in Maine. But he’s taken charge before. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to mend this riff, like when he came up with the solution to get Maeve to the doctor.
Not this time, though.
“Come,” he says, taking me by the elbow. And instead of trying to get Melvin and Rodge to make up, we follow the innkeeper back to the van.