The Christmas House (28 page)

     He moved over to the next, smaller bag. He sighed deeply as he unzipped the bag to reveal the angelic face of his little Nicole. Not a scratch or a burn scared her face. It looked as if she was simply sleeping peacefully. He placed his hands on her face and felt the coolness transfer through his body. She was not asleep at all. Like the Stevens, David and Arianna, she too was gone.

     Michael stumbled away from the back of the ambulance and once again fell to the ground. The paramedic attendee ran to Michael’s side.

     “Mr. Carter
are
you okay? Let me take a look at you for a second.”

    
As he examined Michael he looked to see if symptoms of shock were prevalent. Physically, Michael seemed to be okay, but this type of loss would affect people differently. The paramedic was concerned.

     “Why don’t you come with me to the hospital for some observation Mr.
Carter.
It wouldn’t hurt. There are some counselors on staff that you can talk with about this tragedy,” the paramedic suggested.

     “Just leave me alone. I just need to be left alone,” Michael replied as he stood up and started to stagger away.

    
“Please Mr. Carter. It’s freezing out here. Spending a few days at the hospital might be the best thing for you.” (
Michael continued to walk
.) The paramedic continued calling after Michael.

    
“Where are you going? Do you need a place to stay? Mr. Carter?”

     Michael ignored the pleas from the paramedic and continued to walk to his truck. Other police and fire personnel tried to talk to him as well, but he was oblivious to their comments. No longer crying, Michael’s mood turned to anger. He reached his truck and stepped inside on the drivers’ side.

     As he sat in the cab, he started to scream.

    
“Why? After I gave you my heart and soul and pledged my faith to you! Why did you do this to me...again! Pacify me with visits of my loved ones. Do you think that makes up for this? Do you think I want to see my wife and kids just once a year? DO YOU! GO TO HELL!”

     He started the truck and threw it into reverse and squealed the tires. He turned the truck around and drove off in a fit of rage as the police personnel stood by and silently watched.

     A few miles later, Michael pulled over in front of a tavern. Michael
had
never been much of a drinker, but that was about to change. He entered the tavern and sat at the bar. A football game was on the television and the place was pretty empty. The bartender came over and asked, “What’ll have?”

     “Give me a double shot of whiskey and leave the bottle,” Michael replied.

    
The bartender brought the bottle to Michael and poured the first shot. Michael picked up the glass and threw the alcohol down his throat.

     He closed his eyes and swallowed. The liquid burned, as it went down his throat and through his chest. He sat there looking at the glass in his hand and set it down on the bar. A couple of men were sitting at the other end of the bar.

     “Did you feel that explosion earlier? Man, a house was totally leveled on the West Side of town. I heard 5 or 6 people were killed,” said one man.

     “Yeah, I heard that according to the news, there was a gas leak in the basement. Seems the guy that hooked up the furnace didn’t know what he was doing. The whole place went up. When will people learn to hire professionals to install stuff like that,” replied the other man.

     Michael stared at the men and then poured himself another shot. As he raised the shot glass to his lips he said to himself under his breath, “Here’s to me, killer of family and friends.”

Chapter Seventeen- Michael’s Struggle

Early December

Evanston, Illinois

     A few weeks passed since the demise of Michael’s friends and family. The funerals were held a few days after the explosion and were attended by many friends of Arianna and Michael’s. The majority was work-related associates who paid their respects to Michael as they passed five closed caskets in the Lake Forest Funeral Home.

     Michael had not been back to work since the accident and was not planning on returning anytime soon, despite numerous calls from his boss urging him to come back as soon as possible. Michael was not ready to face life again, much less the everyday challenges of his job. He wasn’t concerned about the money he was losing from not working. The one thing Michael did
have,
was a considerable sum of money. The trust fund he put away for the kids’ education was now fully available. As well, the house was insured for the appraised amount of $2.3 million and the life insurance policies on Arianna
and the kids amounted to over $5
00,000.00. Michael decided he could afford to ta
ke a leave of absence from work, a
very long leave of absence.

     He moved into a small, one-bedroom furnished apartment in nearby Evanston. For the last several weeks he spent most of his day crying and the other part of it drinking. He seldom left the apartment and had lost a considerable amount of weight.

     He counted the days until Christmas Eve. He would travel back to the burned out site that was once his home and wait for Arianna and the kids to arrive. He prayed that God would allow him one more day with his loved ones.

     Michael contemplated suicide almost constantly since the explosion, but remembered what Uncle Wally
had
said about how suicides were treated in heaven. He did not want to jeopardize his eternal soul by taking his earthly life at this time. He didn’t even know if he would be allowed into heaven. After the way he cursed God for what happened to him, he had his doubts.

     Day after day, Michael wasted away in the small East Side apartment, drinking, crying and sleeping. Garbage filled the small rooms, for Michael had no incentive to clean up after himself. Empty half-eaten containers of carry out food were turning green with mold as they lay on the floor near a couch Michael called his bed. He spent every waking and sleeping hour on this couch waiting for the time to pass. Empty bottles of whiskey were scattered about the apartment. Michael only left this poor excuse of an existence to take a short walk to the nearby liquor store or to pick up the occasional Chinese dinner.

     As the days past, Christmas Eve was fast approaching. Michael was convinced that even though the house was gone, Arianna and the kids would still visit him at 6:00 p.m. that evening. He lost all of his faith in God and was concerned that his punishment was far from over. He constantly asked the question, “Why?”

December 24th

Christmas Eve

148 Festive Lane

5:57
p.m.

     Michael pulled his truck over to the curb in front of the now empty lot, where the old magical house once stood. This Christmas was not like that of the snowy holidays of recent years. It was a cold and rainy night that reflected Michael’s dismal mood perfectly. Michael stepped out onto the pavement carrying a half-drunken bottle of whiskey. He stumbled and fell several times as he tried to walk through the burnt out rubble that he once called home.

     The black soot, wet from the rain covered Michael’s shoes and clothes with the thick layer of a tar like substance. As he continued to stagger to the foundation, which was still in tact, he came upon the edge of the concrete slab that used to hold his family together and took a seat.

     There was no grandfather clock to clearly chime six times. Like everything else that was in the home, it too
had
perished in the fire. Michael looked at his soot covered watch. As he wiped away the filth from the crystal, he could see that it was 5:58 p.m.

     As Michael waited for Arianna to arrive, he took several drinks from the whiskey bottle and emptied it. He looked at the bottle in disgust and threw it into what once was the basement of the house. It shattered into a thousand pieces.

     Michael sat alone in the cold, wet night and waited for his family to come to his rescue. The cold wind sent chills through his body that would have surely been much worse if he was not so intoxicated. He looked at his watch again. It was now 6:15 p.m.

     “They aren’t coming. They all hate me for killing them. I didn’t mean it! It was an accident! Please come home. Please! Arianna!” he shouted.

     As he sat soaking wet, drenched with rain, water dripped off of his head and onto his face. The taste of the water as it cascaded into
his mouth, was clean and fresh, a
pleasant change from the salty taste of tears that
had
found their way to his lips over the last thirty days.

     Suddenly, Michael heard a noise from behind him. He turned and looked into the darkness and shouted, “Arianna? Is that you?”

     A response came back to him.

    
“She’s dead Carter. They’re all dead. Hell, you probably killed them with that stupid furnace you installed. It was all over the news. What a loser you are Carter.
You and your neighbor Stevens.
Both just a couple of losers!”

     “Who’s there? Who is that?” asked Michael.

     The figure walked into the light shining from a nearby lamppost.

    
“
It’s
me, Tony Cesario.
How you doing Carter? You don’t look so good buddy.
You been
drinking?”

    
“Yeah.
What’s it to you? What are you doing here?” Michael asked.

     “I came by to make you a little offer Carter. Seems your dream house went bye-bye. So, now that you saved me the trouble of knocking it down myself, I wanna buy the property,” Tony replied.

     Michael looked up at Tony and asked, “Buy the property?
But why?”

     “Cause its worth a lot more to me than it is to you buddy. (
Tony pulled an envelope out of his jacket
)

“Here’s a contract and a check for $2.4 million dollars. I suggest you take it
and get your life back in order. I know you don’t need the money Carter; I checked with the insurance company. I know they already paid you off. Take this check and double your financial worth cause it’s the only worth you have right now pal. Look at you. You look like a bum! Dirty and smelly! What a drunken loser!”

     Michael was about to take the envelope from Tony because in his own mind he agreed with Tony’s assessment of the situation. He was a loser. He had nothing left. It was now obvious to him that no one was coming back to the house. He might as well let Tony have the property. Just before he reached for the envelope from Tony’s hand, he asked one last question.

    
“And what if I don’t accept your generous offer?
Then what Mr. Cesario?”
Michael asked.

     Tony became outraged.

    
“You stupid jerk. Look at you sitting here in the rain, drunk and covered in ash. You look like a washed up bum. Take the damn money and get the hell out of here!”

     “But what if I don’t want to?” shouted back Michael.

    
Tony reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a gun.

    
“Well then Carter, I will just take this property the way I should have taken it years ago. No skin off my nose. If I kill you I’ll buy the property from the state of Illinois
cause
you ain’t got no one to leave it to. Killing you is probably going to save me a couple hundred grand.”

     Michael looked at the gun pointed at him.

    
“Go ahead. You’d be doing me a favor. I can’t kill myself or I will lose my family forever. But if you kill me, then I will be with them again.”

     “Carter, you are one crazy nut. See your family? They’re all dead. You are one sick disillusioned loser. Nice doing business with you loser,” Tony said as he cocked the gun and aimed it at Michael’s head.

     From behind Tony a voice calmly said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Mr. Cesario.”

Tony turned and saw a figure standing in the shadows.

“Who’s there? Come out here and show your face!” he yelled, as he waved the gun.

     An old woman wearing a black imitation fur coat stepped into the light.

    
“I think you better put the gun down Mr. Cesario,” Martha said.

     “Where the hell did you come from lady?” asked Tony.

     “I assure you I have not come from hell Mr. Cesario. Now put the gun down,” she replied.

     “Sorry lady. You’re timing isn’t too good. See, now after I kill this loser, I’m going to have to kill you as well. Ya know, dead men tell no tales,” he replied.

     “I wouldn’t be so sure of that Mr. Cesario. Please put the gun down or you might get hurt,” Martha said.