NC--The Perfect Christmas Guest (standard:drama, 1989 words)
Author: Maureen Stirsman	Added: Jun 24 2004	Views/Reads: 3545/2366	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Cora expected her family to be on the three-fifteen flight on Christmas Eve, but unfortunately their plans were canceled. Instead an unexpected guest arrived and his name was Robert B.

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said he was on his way home for Christmas from a Children's home in 
Illinois. He said his father was supposed to come for him. The other 
children had gone and the home all but closed down until January 
second. 

“What was he doing at the highway restaurant?” I ask. 

“I don't know, Cora.” 

There's the doorbell! They're here! 

... 

It's been quite a day. Maryann is as dear as I remembered her. The
children are a joy. But the mystery of the visit is Robert. Maryann 
helped me in the kitchen and told me the story. When Kevin found the 
boy he said he was waiting for a ride. His father was sending someone 
to pick him up. This was in conflict with his previous story, but Kevin 
didn't ask any more questions. They couldn't leave the boy alone like 
that. He's small for his age, which he claims is fourteen, but I don't 
know what to believe. Kevin had given him the cell phone at the 
restaurant and told him to call his father. Robert made the call while 
Kevin paid the bill. He said his father wasn't able to come and he 
should get a ride home to Syracuse. Maryann said, “I don't really 
believe he's going to Syracuse, and I don't think he talked to any 
father on the phone. We have to go on to Mom's and we could take him, 
but she hasn't been well and I don't know if she can handle it.” 

We tried to get more information from Robert but he stuck to his story.
He would hitchhike home he said. While we talked Morris went to the 
phone in the bedroom and called the police. There was no word on anyone 
of Robert's (if that is his name) description, neither missing nor 
wanted. 

In the end we sent the Uliases along and put Robert to bed in the room I
had ready for Cindy. We insisted he call his father again and Morris 
would take him to the Greyhound station, first bus out in the 
morning—Christmas morning. We would not allow him to hitchhike. His 
father, on the phone, supposedly agreed. 

We have a fourteen-year-old boy in our house for Christmas Eve. What am
I going to do now? 

... 

I slept the sleep of the exhausted. Do I smell coffee? Robert is sitting
at the table buttering toast. His backpack is by the kitchen door. He 
is taking a lot home for a week. 

“Did you sleep okay, Robert?” I ask. 

“Yes, ma'm. Thank you. 

“Honey, I'm packing a lunch for him. You never know if the bus will get
to Syracuse on time,” Morris kisses me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.” 


I almost forgot. This is Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, dear, and to
you, Robert. I bet you're anxious to get home.” 

“Yes, ma'm. I can't wait.” He's very mannerly. I wonder why he's in a
home in Illinois but I don't want to ask. He'll soon be gone and with 
his own family. 

We have two hours before the bus comes. I turn the tree lights on. “It
is a beautiful tree, ma'm. I never saw one that perfect before.” I look 
under the tree and pick a gift with Mark's name on it. “Robert, Merry 
Christmas,” I rip off the tag and hand him the package. I also give him 
the red hat and gloves I made for Mark. 

“Oh I couldn't possible take that, ma'm,” 

“Of course you can. It's Christmas.” He opens the package carefully.
It's a video game. I can't tell what he's thinking. “If you have it 
already I'll send another one to you. Just tell me your home address.” 
“Oh you don't need to do that. I don't have this one. This is great.” 
He carefully puts it back into the package and folds the wrapping 
paper. This is a boy who does not waste. I wonder if he has had to do 
without. An hour later he shakes my hand and thanks me again. I wave as 
he and Morris get in the car. Well, what now? 

... 

I hear the car on the gravel and open the door. “Honey, did you get
Robert off okay?” There is Robert opening the passenger door. “Robert, 
what happened?” 

“Never mind, Cora. We'll talk. Take your things back up, Rob, and give
Cora and I a minute.” 

“Whatever?” I ask. 

“Sit down, honey. I have a story to tell. I got him to the bus station
and he insisted that I leave. He was okay, had his ticket, his father 
would be at the other end. I was reluctant, but I left. 

“I thought I would see if the donut shop was open. It wasn't, but it
took me around the corner and I wound up back at the depot. The 
Syracuse bus was pulling out. Then I saw Robert walking in the opposite 
direction. He's not going home, Cora. He doesn't have a home. This boy 
doesn't even live in any children's home in Illinois. He did at one 
time, but he ran away two years ago. He has no idea where his father 
is, or his mother for that matter. He works picking fruit in summer and 
if you can believe it, he lived in one of the shacks on the grounds of 
the orchard. The owner didn't know he was there. This boy has no home, 
Cora. He was hitchhiking across the country when Kevin found him.” 
Morris takes a deep breath. 

“My word, Morrie, are you sure he's is telling the truth?” 

“Yes, I think he is.” 

“What does he intend to do?” 

“I don't know, Cora. It's Christmas day and I couldn't leave him on the
street. Tomorrow I'll make some phone calls, but for today, it's 
Christmas. Let's give him one to remember.” 

... 

It's December 26th. I don't know how long Robert will stay but we had a
Christmas to remember. He's a pleasant boy, mannerly and grateful. 
Someone has done something right, parents or not. I think of JoAnn; she 
could have had this kind of life. There should be someone to take care 
of Robert. If only we weren't so old. I just don't want to let him go. 

I smell coffee. I come down in my robe. “Is Robert up?” I ask my
husband. 

“He's gone, honey.” 

My heart drops. “Where did he go?” 

“I don't know. He left before I was up.” 

I know there is no point in driving around. I wish I had done more for
him. The tree was so bright yesterday. Now it's all over. I pick up the 
Christmas cards. A note is propped up on a picture of my grandchildren. 
“Mr. and Mrs. Golden, Thank you very much. This was the best Christmas 
I ever had, just like I always dreamed. I never had grandparents, but 
if I did I hoped they would be like you. I will never forget you. 
Please don't worry about me. I will be okay. I always have. I guess 
God's angels watch over me. Mrs. Ulias said so anyway. Robert B.” 

The words blur. “Oh, Morrie, I hope he'll be alright. He's such a nice
boy. I hope he gets what he wants.” As I touch the pile of cards a 
picture falls out. It is the whole beautiful Ulias family. They stand 
in the snow, all bundled up in winter clothes. Daniel is reaching for 
the camera. David and Katherine are blowing kisses. The sun shines on 
Maryann's hair, almost like a halo. “I hope they got to the 
grandmother's okay.” 

“I'm sure they did.” Morris takes my hand. “Robert got what he wanted.
He wanted a grandmother and he had you, if only for a day. Trust God 
that His angels watch out for him, honey. Robert will be okay.” 

... 

Somewhere in Indiana a boy pulls a red hat down on his head and puts on
the gloves a grandmother made. God's angels smile. 

THE END 


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