We Could Get By

xxviii.

Nellie started decorating the house for Christmas on the first of December. She had awakened early and gone puttering upstairs to the little attic where they kept their few excess possessions. That was where Sweeney found her, stooped over and attempting to drag one of the heavier boxes from its place in the corner. Sunlight settled in a little circular patch on the floor, beaming in through the single round window.

"I wish ya wasn't so hard to shop for," she said to him, only glancing up from her task briefly, though she had known he was coming the instant she caught wind of his distinct shuffle on the stairs. "Ya got more 'n ya need already, an' sometimes I swear ya don't even really like anything."

"Nellie, you'll hurt yourself." He stepped nimbly between Nellie and the box, shooing her away with a lazy wave of his hands. She clucked at him disapprovingly, bunching her hands in the festive fabric of her dress, but she stepped back and allowed him to take over.

"Mister T, I can do things m'self!"

He stared pointedly at her comical roundness and pulled the box into the center of the room. "Hm. And I am not hard to shop for."

She tapped her fingers impatiently against the firm swell of her stomach, her face twisting briefly into a frown. "What's in that one, love?"

He opened the box, conscious of Nellie leaning closely over his shoulder. Brightly colored glass ornaments glittered from their resting places amongst the folds of her most extravagant table cloth. She grabbed Sweeney's shoulders and pressed her cheek against the side of his head. "Oh, jus' look at that, Mister T! 'M sure the rest of it is up 'ere someplace."

"The rest of it?" He turned to look at her accusingly, but Nellie was already attempting to lift one of the smaller trunks. "No- Jesus, Nell, give me that. Where did this all come from?"

"Some of it's from Nettie. I went 'n bought some of it when me 'n Albert was first married. Silly, thinkin' he was gonna be a real husband, but- anyway, it don't matter now." Sweeney stacked the smaller box atop the large one and waited for Nellie to inspect the remainder of the dust-covered trunks. "We're gonna have a good 'n proper Christmas, even better than last year."

He lifted the largest trunk, grunting, and Nellie set the smaller boxes on top of it. He could not see past the worn surfaces of the boxes, but Nellie pushed him confidently along towards the narrow stairs. "Watch ya step, love, I don't want ya fallin' down the stairs."

"Is this it, or am I going to have to go back upstairs?" He spoke the words as if going back up to the attic was the most dreadfully inconvenient task imaginable. Sweeney set the boxes on the floor of the living room. Nellie settled carefully on the sofa and leaned forward to unpack the smallest box. Sweeney paced circles around her, his forehead crinkling like an accordion-folded piece of paper. On his way past her the fourth time, Nellie reached out for his sleeve and yanked him down beside her.

"Sit down, love, ya makin' me dizzy." She pulled a blown-glass ornament gingerly from the box, and her face lit up. "Look, Mister T! I found this- oh, I remember this! I was still in London, see, an' it was just a lil while after ya left. An' I was jus' all sorts of broken up, so I went for a walk 'round the market an' this store 'ad it jus' hanging-" she paused to hold it up by its delicate string, hoping it would catch the light in precisely the way it had when she saw it- "like this."

She let it spin just a little, remembering the tiny golden sliver of hope it had brought her that cold, cruel winter. Nellie failed to mention that she had spent the rest of that night drinking herself into a stupor and sobbing on the floor in the parlor. "Anyway!" she said, affecting a cheerier tone, "Let's you 'n me get these up, why don't we?"