Joe sighed happily, stretched out on the couch, and grabbed the remote. Perfect. He could not understand all the fuss and carrying on about Christmas Eve. He’d a whole lot rather be here in his own place, instead of at his parents. Quiet was not a word they understood at all.
In the morning he’d be there in time for 9:00 Mass, then the big breakfast his mother insisted on, then gift opening, his sister’s kids rampaging around the house, then the even bigger dinner with all the family, then everybody singing Italian folk songs and arias from operas. Great fun. But not quiet.
He knew what to expect from his mother, the grilling over when he was going to settle down, droning on about why had he dumped Maria, (he hadn’t, she’d dumped him, but Mom never got that message) the teasing from his brothers and sister, and the wink, wink, that’s my boy from his father.
He flicked on the TV and settled down for a peaceful evening. As he dozed off he could hear bells ringing, but it was sound of a cat yowling on his front stoop that finally woke him. Stupid cats! Oh, well, they’ll stop in a minute. He glanced at the clock over his new plasma TV screen. 11:45. He closed his eyes again. The cat kept it up. Annoyed, he grabbed one of his shoes to fling at the offender, jumped up and headed for the front door. He could see snow drifting gently down through the storm door window, and he saw the big cardboard box sitting right in front of the door. What? Somebody’s cute idea of a present?
The sounds came from inside the closed box. He grabbed it, pulling it in. Fear, shock, emotions he couldn’t name washed over him like a red wave. It was a baby! Crying frantically inside the box. A baby! His hands shook as he ripped open the top. Inside was a tiny infant, wrapped in a blue quilt, laying on a mattress of diaper packages. Joe’s heart almost stopped. Awkwardly he pulled the wailing infant out of the box, holding him carefully. He noticed a folded note pinned to the blanket. Who the heck would leave a kid on my porch?
Now his heart was doing double time, he headed back to the living room, laying the still screaming baby gently on the couch. Maria, She’ll know what to do! God, I hope she’s home! His hands shook so badly he could hardly dial. He desperately hoped she’d even speak to him, their parting had not been pretty.
“Joe?” Her voice startled him, “Joe? What on earth….?”
“Maria! Thank God! Somebody just left a baby on my porch! It’s screaming bloody murder and I don’t know what to do! Please, please come over and help me out here!” he begged.
“I’m on my way. Call the Police.” She hung up. Bless her, even though they had parted in terrible anger, she wouldn’t say no to anybody in need. Even him.
The baby had worn himself out and seemed to be sleeping. He opened the note.
Please take care of my baby. I love him, but I can’t do it. I didn’t do any drugs while I was pregnant, so he’s OK. His name is Jerome.
Joe crumpled the note and threw it on the table. Who could dump a baby like so much trash? He looked inside the box, beside the diapers there were three bottles, and a couple of cans of formula . But she must have cared, to pack his stuff like that.
The child began to cry again, Joe swore and picked him up, bouncing him in his arms like he’d seen his sister do. It didn’t work. Jerome screamed louder.
“OK, OK! What do you want, little buddy?” Joe asked helplessly. A bottle maybe? He’d watched his sister and mother feed babies, he grabbed one of the bottles and tried to stick it in Jerome’s mouth. It was no go. Jerome revved it up even more. Joe paced frantically, Where’s Maria? I need her now!
As if cued to that plea, the doorbell rang, and Maria came running into the room.
“Joe! What on earth?” She threw her coat aside and grabbed the furious baby, “Oh you poor little guy, you’re starving aren’t you?” Joe held the bottle out and she took it, “It’s ice cold, for crying out loud, go warm it up in the microwave. Minute and a half…50% power.” She knew exactly what to do, and feeling hugely relieved, he headed for the kitchen. This he could handle.
Maria knew all about kids. That had been the cause of their breakup. She wanted kids. He wasn’t ready. Didn’t know if he’d ever be. He’d been surprised at how lonely he felt afterward, and he couldn’t count the times he’d reach for the phone, then stuck his hands in his pockets. They were done. Too late to mend.
She sat in his new leather chair, spotlighted in the golden glow of the floor lamp in the dark room. She cradled the baby in her arms, arching protectively over him, Oh Wow, he thought, this is the way women have held their babies since the first child ever born on the planet! This is the way Mary held the baby Jesus! It’s the way my mom held me! The thought overwhelmed him, and suddenly his knees went out, he sank to the floor and tears sprang to his eyes. It’s the way she would have held our child!
Maria looked up, a smile on her face, then she saw the tears streaming down his cheeks, “Joey! What’s wrong? Are you crying? He’s fine now…just hungry, that’s all.”
“I don’t know, honey-babe” he realized he’d called her by his pet name, and his tears flowed faster, words he hadn’t even thought about, certainly never planned, spilled out of him uncontrolled, “Oh Maria, I’ve missed you so much…” he half scooted on his knees over to the chair, “I…I loved you and I blew it! Big time! I see you with that baby and …My God…what have I done?” He brushed the tears away angrily, and knelt in front of her.
Maria reached out and put her soft hand on his damp cheek, “Joey. I loved you too. You know that. Maybe it didn’t get as thrown away as you think. Maybe it’s still waiting.” She smiled again, “Maybe we can talk about it more later. Right now, we’ve got a baby to take care of. Have you called the police?”
“No! Forgot all about it. It got pretty wild here for a while, y’know!” He shook his head, getting to his feet. “Geeze…I hate to do this. Poor little kid. Who knows where he’ll end up. Could be he’ll have good parents, could be he’ll never have parents at all. Might end up in the dumpster like so many other kids.”
He looked at her. “What if we kept him” he said softly. “I mean, I know we’d have to turn him over for now…but what if we said…” He looked at her. “Yeah, that’s
a proposal,” he grinned. “Kid’s got to have a momma and a daddy.” Maria looked at him in shock.
“That’s going to take some thinking over. And not tonight. You have to call the police. Right now.” She held the sleeping child embraced in her arms. “But we’ll make sure they keep us informed about where he is…OK? Just in case.”
He nodded and reached for the phone even though every fiber of his being fought against making the call. Who’s going to buy him a catchers mitt? Teach him to skip rocks? Who’s going to be this little boy’s daddy?
After the police and the child protective people and about a hundred other nosy people finally left, he sank wearily into the chair. Maria paced the floor.
“I think,” she said softly, “that’s about the hardest thing I ever had to do.” Tears glistened on her long dark lashes, trickling slowly down her cheeks.
Joe stood up, crossed the room and took her in his arms. “ No,” he said gently, “it’s the hardest thing we ever had to do.” He kissed her, first on one tear streaked cheek and then the other. “But, somehow, someway, that little boy is going to be our first real Christmas gift to one another.” He kissed her lips and she sagged happily into him, her arms tight around his neck.
Outside the snow still fell, the sky lightened, and it was Christmas Day again.
