Christmas in Transition on Alumni

Cecelia Welles

July 16, 2020 8:51 PM

Christmas in Transition by Cecelia Welles

If she stood just far enough back from the fireplace, Cecily Welles could see herself in the big mirror which hung over said fireplace. Delighted, she looked up at it, her eyes feasting on the sight of her green velvet and ivory lace Christmas dress.

“I’m pretty!” she exclaimed, and began twisting her waist around, sending her skirt whirling and her white petticoats rustling. “I’m pretty, I’m pretty!”

She clapped her small hands together, briefly distracted by the pretty pink polish on her nails, then giving her dress another swing. Mommy had pulled her hair back quite severely in the front, tying it back in a matching green ribbon, but the loose golden curls hanging in the back tickled her neck; she reached up, allowing them to wrap around her fingers as she looked down admiringly at her dress again.

“Cecily,” said Grandmama. “Don’t be vain.”

“Would you rather she was dishonest, Mom?” said Mommy. “She is pretty.”

Cecily – despite her grandmother’s diligent efforts to instill a greater understanding of the Catholic religion into her – did not really understand the words, but she understood the tones. They sounded as though they were scolding, just a little, but they did not sound serious about it, so Cecily laughed. She was not in trouble, so she did not know what else to do.

She did not know what to do a lot of the time now. Everything was topsy-turvy-upside-down. There were whole rooms of the house that were the same as they always were, like the library, and then there were whole rooms of the house which were now nearly empty when they weren’t usually, like Mommy’s bedroom and the dining room, and rooms that were usually empty were full of boxes stuffed with all the things that normally went in other rooms. Mommy said that they were going to take all the things East, so they could live together with Daddy again – but Daddy was here today again, along with the rest of the family, so Cecily didn’t really understand why they didn’t put their things back like they had been. Everyone else kept saying, though, that they still had to move the things, because Daddy had to do Very Important Things in the East and now that George had been born, he needed Mommy and Cecily and George to come and help him do the things.

Cecily thought she could do lots to help Daddy, once someone explained to her what she was supposed to do. Mommy, too, could be helpful – Mommy was good at lots of things. She didn’t know what use George was, though. Mommy talked to him a lot, and so did Aunt Nora, and the uncles and their grandparents when they came over, and yet he never said anything back. The most noise he ever made was screaming every now and then, and that wasn’t very nice. He didn’t do anything else, either. When Mommy put him on his back, he just laid there, sometimes flailing his legs or arms a little. When Mommy put him on his stomach, he wiggled his legs and arms a little less, and sometimes he lifted his head a tiny bit, and everyone acted as thought this was some kind of brilliant accomplishment. Cecily didn’t think there was anything George could do that would help Daddy at all, but everyone just laughed when she pointed that out, except Creature. One of the things Cecily liked about that uncle was that he didn’t laugh at her as much as most adults.

“You’re right that George isn’t very good at many things yet,” agreed Creature. “But it will make your dad happier to see him and you more often, I guess. It’ll be easier for Mommy, too, since Uncle Joe will be with you, and Aunt Sammy and I will be closer.” He tapped her nose. “Once George learns to do things, you’ll understand better. It’s good to have brothers. You look after each other.”

Cecily stared blankly. “He doesn’t do anything,” she objected again.

“That’s how you can look after him, Creature. We’ll all teach him how to do things, as he develops. I’ll show you a book about what he’s supposed to do every month, and you can help take data on how well he’s doing. Plus, you can both learn what the ocean is.”

This idea caught her attention – Creature had bought her a book once before which had pictures of all the fish that lived in The Ocean, which was supposed to be bigger than the biggest pond in the world. She couldn’t quite follow when Mommy or anyone read the words, but she liked looking at the pictures. Maybe it would be all right, having to do without things sometimes because they were in boxes, if she got to see them in real life.

This also reminded her that Creature had presumably brought her more books, and she began badgering him until these were provided – yet another picture book with birds, this one with blank birds across from each printed bird for her to color, and one, even more interesting, had lots and lots of pictures with people in strange clothes and behaviors that looked like nothing Cecily had ever seen. “It’s about heroes killing monsters, mostly,” was the explanation. “And clever people who create inventions. Pay attention to them, Creature, and to the people they trick. You’ll need to know that kind of thing where you’re going,” he muttered in conclusion, though Cecily, already busy looking at the pictures, didn’t pay attention. She was content; most of her books were already in boxes, so new pictures were especially welcome at the moment. She liked Mommy to read her the same book a few times a day, but she missed having as much of a variety of other pictures to look at in between.

16 Cecelia Welles Christmas in Transition 0 Cecelia Welles 1 5

Julian Welles

July 25, 2020 7:42 PM

Not making things worse. by Julian Welles

It could not, logically, be Julian’s hair extensions which were the problem.

She had, after all, worn her hair extensions many times before. Her natural hair was quite nice, but elaborate hairstyles for events were more easily accomplished with a leavening of false hair in the mix, as well as putting less stress on her hair. Plus, the extra length and volume usually looked better on camera if she ended up in someone’s sights when she went out in public, and that happened a lot of the times when she went out in public. She had had them made after Cecily was born, because of the standard post-partum hair loss, but had recognized their utility quickly and had kept using them as needed even after her hormones had evened out and she hadn’t needed them simply to avoid looking pitiful. She knew them well, and had never found them uncomfortable before.

Therefore, it did not make sense to blame her hair extensions for why her head felt so very heavy, so heavy that it took an active effort to keep it upright instead of allowing it to droop onto William’s shoulder beside her. Nor did it seem reasonable to blame her hair extensions for her headache – not least because she had had it all day, from the moment she had opened her eyes, long before she had attached them to her head as part of the excruciatingly slow process of getting ready for the day. Since she could not think of any other explanation for her heavy, aching head other than the extensions which didn’t involve something being wrong with her, though, she tried to believe her hair fillers were responsible for her discomfort and to ignore the lack of evidence there.

Going to her room and taking them out was not, however, an option. Her real hair – normally quite thick – looked terrible right now. George was only a month old – a solid three months younger than Cecily had been when it had happened with her – but Julian’s hair was already coming out in alarming quantities. There was a clear streak of bare skin along the part of her hair now, from her forehead to the crown of her head, and the spot at the crown of her head seemed to be widening and becoming clearer.

She must have sighed, because William was looking at her. Something about ‘all right sweetheart.’ She mustered a smile.

“I was just thinking,” she said. “We ought to come back for Christmas next year. We’ve always had Christmas here, and it’s such a shame, not being able to enjoy George’s first really, while we’re trying to pack our whole lives up….”

William found a smile, too, but it was a politician’s smile; she recognized the hints of irritation behind it. Normally, that would have annoyed her in turn, made her want to rail at him; now, it somehow just made her feel even tireder than she already was. How many times had they done this, after all? How did almost any conversation of which she initiated always end up going like this – either they fought, or he forced a smile and dismissed whatever she was saying with a platitude?

“Why, by next year, we might be so at home in Ottawa that we might not even want to leave,” he said. So it was a platitude today, then. “That’s so far away we can’t possibly plan for it now – and George probably won’t mind next year any more than he seems to mind this year.”

Julian couldn’t really argue that George would have an opinion on the subject next year. A one-year-old was more of a distinct human than a one-month-old, but he would still be rather vague on most concepts then. “But there’s still Cecily and me,” she objected. “I’ve spent every Christmas of my life in the west – even that year that the school lost all the staff.”

Again the smile. Again the hints of irritation behind it. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said carelessly, and kissed her temple.

Julian was certainly not going to argue the issue further in front of her family, but she knew she wouldn’t have pushed it even if they had been alone. Not since the big fight, just after she’d found out she was expecting George….

It had been her fault. She had been feeling miserable – truthfully, she had stayed miserable throughout her entire pregnancy this time – and William had been so happy about going to Ottawa, joining the Council proper, even in a junior role. It was an important thing; he’d had the right to be annoyed that his wife hadn’t shared his enthusiasm, and even moreso when she had admitted that she wasn’t looking forward to living in the East. She had never said she wouldn’t go, of course – only that she wished she could have her cake and eat it too –

How, exactly, they had both gotten so loud, she didn’t even remember now, only that it had been awful, and that she had lied about it. “He was very understanding, thank you very much…But he can’t put his career on hold for me. I don’t even want him to…What’s good for one of us is good for both of us.” That was what she had told Joe and John, when they had accurately guessed that William had not been happy when she had refused to contemplate traveling across the country while she was pregnant. What else was she supposed to have done, though? She was always so disagreeable, she thought. The least she could do was avoid making things worse.

Looking around, she was soothed by the sight of the Christmas decorations, the music and smells and people and sights. She couldn’t help that they were putting their whole lives in boxes, but she had kept things from getting worse here, for Cecily at least. She could still do that much right. She’d just have to try harder elsewhere, work on herself, change her thinking, and then....

16 Julian Welles Not making things worse. 254 0 5