A Light to Rejoice by Kenion Lathan

Photo by Eleonora Albasi on Upsplash

A dead orange leaf lands gently in a large puddle from a wet tree tangled in led lights. Rain pours in the streets of Downtown Seattle. Pedestrians crossing crosswalks without the protection of umbrellas allow raindrops to make slight thumps on their hoods. Many leaves swing in the wind as they descend to the ground, adding more to the sight. I am running my fingers against the cold window, tracing a raindrop zig zagging down. My senses are silent by the uncontrollable emotions fluttering inside me as if a loud noise is echoing through a bat cave. In my peripheral view, I see a blurry figure staring at me; my supervisor checking in on me, concerned yet unsettled; he does what all men do when coming across a sobbing woman standing there before walking away. Trying to keep my focus on the busy streets of downtown Seattle I struggle to look past the many tiny raindrops patting the giant glass.

"Gemma?" A soft voice cries gently. It's my coworker/best friend, Chelsea. Chelsea, a middle- aged woman who helped me settle my life here in Seattle after meeting her in college.

"Gemma, what's wrong?" My response was not words but a silent sob. The fluttering emotion forces its way out, causing a waterfall of tears. I feel a pair of hands pull me away from the window wiping the tears off my face, then into her arms. I planted my face on her shoulder, using her tan cotton long-sleeve shirt to soak the tears. It didn't bother her. She stationed me in front of her, fixing my hair. Finally, I decided to use my words, beginning with an apology for leaving in the middle of a radio show.

"I'm sorry."

"It okay, Gem." She says, brushing my hair behind my ears. I continued to sniff, trying to clear my sinus so that she could understand me.

"It's Nancy... Nance passed away, Chels". After saying those words, nothing else would come out but more sobs and tears. After gathering myself, my boss Sam brings my things from the studio into the conference room.

"I am sorry for your loss.. Uhm... Take off as long as you need, okay?". He says before leaving the room. Standing in the doorway, Chels asked if I wanted a ride home, but I told her I could manage. For as long as I can remember, Chels has always been a great friend, and she was there through the most challenging times, like when I got sick during an interview forcing me to leave work. Now she is helping me get through the death of my mother, or my adoptive mother should I say. I was three when she adopted me from Storks Childcare Group Home. She loved me just as much as she loved her own children. I remember her telling me that my name and presence brought so much joy to the family. Sometimes I would think about my biological mother but would be distracted by the love I was receiving from my adoptive parents.

"Should I call Kev?" Chelsea asks.

"No, it is fine." I get up and make my way toward the elevator, which takes me to the parking garage. The drive home was silent and painful, and I could barely press the gas to continue going. I sit outside my driveway, thinking about all the good times I had with Nance until I allow the hardships of my life to bleed through. It wasn't long until Kevin opened the car door and pulled me into his arms. We stood there for a while, allowing him to hold me, pressing his chin on the top of my head. He guides me up the stairs and into the house, taking my bags, so all I have left to carry is my emotions. Feeling sluggish, I decided to go into my room and nap, only to find myself staring at the ceiling. I replayed the week in my head about my argument with my daughters. The conspiracy I have theorized about my husband, cheating on me with one of his students. And to top it off, the terrible message I just received about the only person who, in my eyes, showed me, love. It felt like my head was hosting a grand Prix, with many thoughts racing, coming, and going. Later that night, Kev and the girls decided to cook pasta carbonara, one of my favorite dishes. I didn't have the stomach to eat, only the bit that Princetta fed me. Her tiny fingers picked up the noodles and placed them on my bottom lip.

"Eat, mommy." She said while playing with her food. My daughters, Devin and Jordan, asked to be excused from the table since neither Kevin nor I was forcing conversation. For a while Kevin and I haven’t been able to hold one without him playing victim, telling me how quick I am to assume the worst. Sometimes I wish I imagined the whole thing, walking into his office and seeing him quickly zip his pants while in front of his student, who storms out of the house without saying a word. Those actions alone just speak for themselves. Kev went to put Princetta to bed after she fell asleep at the dinner table. I sat on my bed, scrolling through the messages and voicemails from coworkers, and I came across a voicemail from the person that delivered the news.

"Hey, it's Bertha. I'm not sure if anyone has contacted you, but the family is getting together for the holidays, and I feel it'll be nice to have you there". I give it a thought before marking the message for deletion. It wasn't long before I heard my middle child Devin standing in the doorway, listening to the voicemails too.

"I think you should go, mom; maybe this is something you need." I give her a slight smile, "I'll think about it."

"Seriously, mom... I'll go with you if you want". She walks to the bed and hugs me, followed by our giant four-legged baby Felix. He puts his paws on my leg and looks at me with big round eyes.

"Ok"

Weeks later, the girls and I landed in my old hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio. I asked the uber if he could drive us around the city. We go through downtown Cincinnati and reminisce on all the good times I had when I lived here. We attended games at Paul Brown Stadium with Cedrick, Cincinnati Music Hall, and the Square, "Hey, you know I used to go to that school when I was little," pointing at Performing Arts. The girls continue to pay no attention to my attempt to

make conversation or to the lively performers on The Square. Later we arrive in front of my childhood home in Indian Hill. We pull into the neighborhood, houses filled with Christmas decorations and lights. A blowup of Santa waving on his sleigh, a snowman is waving his hat, and red and green flashing candy canes. We stop at the front of a giant brick house. I get a light sense of closure after finding that everything has stayed the same—the same rocking chair on the front porch and welcome mat. We take our belongings out of the uber driver's car.

"whoa, this is where you grew up?". Devin says while walking to the front door. Jordan finally took her eyes off her phone, directing them to the house.

"Who is that guy staring out of the window?". I look up to see a brown-haired man with thick glasses wearing a blue button-down shirt. He appears on the phone before turning his attention to the three strangers walking toward the front door. There is a slight pause before vanishing. Devin rings the doorbell that makes the same buzz as a secured gate. We hear a voice that sounds like they are having an exciting conversation on the phone. The door opens, and a beautiful lady with brunette hair and green eyes tells the person on the other line that she will need to call them back. The silence between us speaks more than a thousand words, and her demeanor changes from giddy and upbeat to severe.

"Hello." Farah says in a dry tone.

"Hi." Devin and Jordan wonder if we got dropped off at the right house due to the dry interaction. A familiar voice comes from the background, asking who is at the door.

"Farah, who's at the door? Is it catering?". Farah doesn't answer in time. Limping behind her is Bertha, Nancy's best friend, who delivered the news. Shoving Farah out of the way, she wraps her arms around me, suffocating me with her Burberry perfume aroma, "oh, how are you, my dear?". Bertha takes a good long look at me, her old wrinkly hands pinching my cheeks. She looks at the girls with excitement, "you must be Devin and Jordan" they both give her a smile that says I am pleased to meet you, but I hope we won't cross paths again. Like the house's exterior, the interior hasn't changed one bit. Old family photos hang on the wall, one with my eldest brother Rodney in his little league football uniform, my sister at her ballet recital, and little me in the tub with an orange rubber duck. It still has the same natural smell, too, the carpet that rests in the hallway in front of the door. She finally got rid of Cedrick's old chair that he would be so quick to greet first after a hard day at work. We were worried about her after he passed when I was in college, but it seemed that she had carried on well. She continued to work in her garden and volunteer at the Jeffersons family market, which I loved attending as a kid. The owner of the farm, Richard Jefferson, would let me and my siblings pick from the blueberry field in the back of the market, though that time between my siblings and me didn't last. I picked blueberries from Jefferson's farm until I was in the 10th grade, while everyone else went to parties or hung out with their boyfriends.

My older brother Rodney comes down the steps, greeting the girls and me, "sorry about the awkward stare out of the window. I was on a critical business call".

"It's fine, good to see you, Rodney. Girls, this is your uncle Rodney". He gives a short nod before proceeding to the kitchen, where a platter of cheese, meat, and crackers is waiting to meet the same fate as the empty wine bottles on the living room table.

"Everyone, look who has arrived!". Bertha says to the audience in the living room, putting my daughters and me in the spotlight. Devin gives a shy wave while Jordan keeps her face planted on the phone, like the other teenagers sitting on the couch or floor next to their respected parents. Everyone waves and smiles with good graces, for there are some unfamiliar faces. An old couple cuddled up like high schoolers on the old loveseat, a man whose eyes are looking at the tv, and a young male who looks like he is in his early twenties fashioning a tailored suit.

Later, after everyone had their fill of cheese, crackers, wine, and intense conversations about whether the Bengals would win the playoffs or not, most of the guests left. Devin and Jordan had gone with their cousins to explore the neighborhood. I can imagine their small talk but long texts in whatever group chat their in. Bertha collects her Tupperware and starts to fill it with uneaten cheese and crackers, "I know Frederick is going to have a fit if he doesn't get his share of this." I get up from my spot on the couch to help Bertha, "How come Mr. Sanderson didn't come?".

"I could ask the same about Kev. Where is that fine man of yours?"

"He decided to stay behind because of work; he has a lot of papers to grade, and I don't want to come in between him and his job." I don't mention anything about the affair he had with his student, him having long conversations with his ex or the divorce I had filed, but she can tell the marriage is falling apart. She gives me a look that asks if I believe that before answering my question about Mr. Sanderson.

"Well, you know how Freddie can be with a crowd. The old fart would rather stay home and keep his nose in his paper all day if he could." After placing all the food in the containers, she puts them in her oversized handbag. I offered to carry her things to the car, but like any other proud elderly woman, she insisted she could do it herself, "how is Mr. Sanderson, Bertha?". She rolls her eyes as we go out of the front door to her car, "He's quite alright, still a grumpy geezer who loves to complain about his yard." The cool crisp air begins to rush across my face, blowing my hair in different directions. I see a small snowflake land on Bertha's purple and gold hat. Cincinnati is known for its wishy-washy weather, and sometimes the snow hits after the holidays, which I never understood. She retreats into her old 2005 beige Toyota Camry, clean and intact body, almost like she bought it yesterday. Rolling down her window, she gives me a last bit of advice to survive the time I am to endure with my siblings.

"Gemma, I know your brothers and sisters can be a bit difficult to deal with but remember you are here to find closure for Nancy." She starts the car, and the engine runs as if she had just bought it yesterday.

"I know, Bertha. I can't believe that this car still runs smoothly. Mr. Sanderson is still getting under the hood after all these years?" Bertha lets out a sharp laugh.

"Oh, please. Fred's old ass won't get up to fetch the tv remote that could be lying right in front of him. It was Isaac. There was something wrong with the engine, I was going to take it to a mechanic, but you know how they love to charge older adults. He offered to fix it for free and repair the exterior. He still lives in the same house around the corner". My heart begins to beat rapidly; Isaac, my old friend, who I'd never said goodbye to when I left for college. When Nancy used to call she’ll tell me how he would constantly ask about me. What school I went to, the course I majored in, and if I was ever thinking of returning? Isaac was my haven whenever the world would get to me. We would take long walks at Rheinstrom park while eating ice cream in summer or sipping hot cocoa in the winter. Nobody knew of the park until Farah noticed I'd been leaving the house frequently one spring. She followed us, then ran back to tell Cedrick that I'd been sneaking off into the woods with some boy, making it seem like our intentions weren't good. I never saw Isaac like that. Don't get me wrong, he was friendly and cared for me, but he struggled with keeping up with his appearance. His glasses were taped on one end, his hair was shaggy as the fur on a sheepdog, and his clothes were mismatched, overall, he had a heart of gold.

"How is Isaac?"

"He is doing fine. He works at the auto body shop that gave me an expensive rate to fix my car. Poor man dedicates his life to work and that snobby girlfriend of his. Well, I'm not going to sit here much longer. While you're here, you and the girls should try to find something fun to do."

"Yeah, I don't think the girls will be up for anything fun with their boring mom," I respond.

"I'm sure there is something they would enjoy doing. Why don't you start decorating the house, it seems to be the only one without any Christmas spirit." Bertha backs out of the driveway and drives out of the cul de sac. I look around at the other houses full of Christmas decorations and lights, before turning my back to my childhood home. She is right; this house could use Christmas spirit outside and inside. For now, I plan on guzzling a couple more glasses from the basement wine cellar. I descend the creaking wooden stairs that sound like it belongs in a scary movie. I pull the string connected to the light bulb, turning it on. I look around to see many of our old things piled in one spot in the basement: tricycles, old teddy bears, trophies, and the old Christmas decorations meant to be outside. Inside the wine cellar, I search for the bottle I plan to drink. A dark red case with Italian writing engraved on it sits on the far left, with a note, "for our time in this world is short, the memories are everlasting." On the bottom is Cedrick's signature; this must be for when they had planned a trip to Venice before he had passed away. I grab a bottle before leaving the wine cellar, heading back upstairs to the living room, where the teenagers had taken over the area. Devin and Jordan had seemed to get along with their cousins, laughing and giggling and showing each other their screens.

"Hey, Lily, where did your dad go?" I ask. She responds, keeping her eyes on her screen.

"I don't know. I think he went to pick up uncle Tom from the airport, and aunt Farah went with him. They should be back soon.” I retreat upstairs after grabbing a big glass out of the cabinets, seeing more family portraits. I waste no time stepping inside my old room that still has my Backstreet Boys posters up. Drawings of hearts circling Brian Littrel, everything is the same as it was years ago. I begin to cringe at some of the old pictures and boyband magazines I couldn't bare to throw away. I walk down the hall to Nancy's room. The air is cool and still smells like her, combining lavender, cherry, and a hint of peppermint oil. I sit at the edge of the bed, scanning the room, letting a tear fall down my face. I could still hear her voice, thinking about the time we went to the lake when I was five years old.

“What you got there Jewels?” Nance asked.

“A butterfwy”

My nose starts to fill with snot as my head grows heavy; closing my eyes, I try to receive images from my most memorable moments with Nancy. I leave her room, trotting downstairs, holding the bottle of wine and glass. The kids are still in the living room watching a movie. I walk in on the scene when pop singer Chris Brown grabs his mother by the arms, forcing her to listen to a song he wrote. I don't stay to watch it, but I hear the soft intro to his famous holiday classic 'This Christmas.' I sat outside the back porch for a couple of hours, still on my first glass of wine, admiring the snow falling from the grey clouds while keeping warm by the fireplace. I get bored watching the snow falling, so I take myself and the half-empty glass of wine into the house. The kids had moved on to a drama teen series, only this time it smelled like popcorn, and the lights turned off, more entertained.

"Your dad isn't back yet?"

"No, they went to get food. They didn't tell you?"

"Uhm yeah, they did; I wasn't feeling too good, so I stayed here. I just figured they would be back by now ". Devin looks at me, knowing that I had lied. I Gather my things to leave for the store. I take Nancy's keys to her red Buick off the key holder.

"Hey, mom, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to make a quick run to the store. Is there anything you want or need?". Instantly I was overwhelmed with requests for snacks, drinks, and medicine, even if I only asked Devin, who said she was alright. After a short drive to the nearest store, I take the parking space closest to the building. Christmas trees have been chopped and are now lining up, waiting to be taken home and adorned. I try to be quick inside the store because I have a terrible habit of buying things I don't need, pushing the cart towards the aisle that has the items I need, plastic snowmen, Plastic Christmas trees, candy canes and a projector that shows Santa Clause riding on his sleigh. The decorations in the basement were old and ruined, covered in dust and cobwebs. Also, I wanted to avoid going through a mountain of boxes. After correctly managing the time I used to scan for decorations, I got the items I had come for in the store. Now the only

thing left is to get the requested items, so I speed walk toward the snack aisle. I saw a variety of limited-edition holiday snacks, from Oreos with green and red icing to mint chocolate twinkies. Not giving any specifics, I grab whatever snacks I felt couldn't go to waste, taking a box of mini brownies, Chips Ahoy Cookies, and a share-size bag of Doritos. The last item I needed was medicine for Farah's son Jonathan, who passed out on the couch after having too much to drink. I look for the cheapest brand, scanning all my options.

On my right, I heard whimpering from a little girl being comforted by her father. Her head was facing my direction; her eyes were as blue as the ocean, with little tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father gently rubs her back, trying to calm her down and make whatever pain is causing her to feel like this go away. I begin to think of Kevin and how he acts with Princetta. He would get annoyed with her and immediately come to me for help. But right now, Princetta is probably having a fun time with Chelsea. I stare at how calm and patient the father is with his daughter. He starts to sway from side to side while softly humming a song. Her eyes begin to get heavy then, in an instant, she is sleeping with her thumb in her mouth. The father catches me looking at him, so I respond with a smile admiring his actions as a father. I went back to minding my own business and looking for whatever medicine I could afford.

"Gemma... Is that you?". A low, soft-spoken voice coming from the direction I was just looking. It's the father.

"Yes... How do you know-?" then it clicks. Looking at him, I recognize those gentle brown eyes.

"Isaac!?". I blurted out before covering my mouth for being too loud. Isaac Jefferson, my dear childhood friend. The one with shaggy hair, mismatched clothes, and taped glasses now looks like he qualifies to be on the front cover of 'MensHealth.' I felt like I was under the influence talking to him because before I knew it, I had already paid for my items and was walking with him to his car, having a deep yet exciting conversation. He told me he is a mechanic and that he enjoys it so much he hopes to start his own Bodyshop. I don't bother asking him about his snobby girlfriend that Bertha had mentioned, and he doesn't ask about Kevin. I tell him I am in town for the holidays, staying in the old house before his daughter Violet wakes up, forcing him to leave.

When I returned to the house, I felt relief and comfort. Devin and Jordan start to stare, noticing the smile I've been holding since entering the house and tossing the kids their snacks. The other adults were outside on the back patio, talking amongst themselves. I don't bother to go back there. Instead, I take the decorations I bought out and display them in front of the house. Starting with the candy canes, I line up three on each side of the walkway leading up to the house. I set up the hat-waving snowman and an adorable elf playing the trumpet on one side of the house. I place a Christmas wreath on the door before getting to the most challenging part, hanging up the lights around the house. It is late, but I am still willing to set up as much as possible. Heading into the back shed for Cedrick's old ladder while everyone watches me. I take

the lights out and begin to climb the ladder up to the roof like a cable technician going to fix the antenna. Devin and Jordan come outside to check on me.

"Mom. What are you doing up there?" Devin asks.

"Setting up the lights. You can set the other lights on those bushes over there if you want." I point to the neatly trimmed hedges starting to get covered in snow. Speaking of snow, I should try and hurry. The girls had gotten bored watching movies because they each took a set of lights and began covering the lower half of the house with them. It wasn't long before the rest of the kids decided to come outside and help.

"Mind if I can be of some assistance?" It's the same soft-spoken voice from the store. I see Isaac holding his daughter Violet, the hood on her orange coat covering the top half of her face.

"Sure. Violet would you like to help Devin and Jordan set up the lights?". She nods her head, shy, clinging on to her Isaac. Devin and Jordan treat Violet as if she were Princetta, reaching their hand and guiding her towards the box of lights. Isaac takes a set and climbs the ladder meeting me on the roof. We waste no time setting up the lights. It was getting late, as the temperature was starting to drop. When we finished setting up the lights, Violet and the girls were fast asleep on the couch. Everyone else had disappeared into their rooms. Isaac and I had decided to hang out on the back patio, drinking the rest of the wine I had started earlier. At first, the only noise made was the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, the chipping of the wood, and the wind whistling.

"So, you're a host for a hit radio station in Seattle?" Isaac asks. "That must be really nice."

"Uhm, it can have its moments, and it's not easy because you can lose listeners if you are not interesting."

"You're great to listen to. I don't know anyone who wouldn't want to hear you talk." I chuckle at Isaacs's comment, who sets his glass on the table, giving me his full undivided attention. I gulp the rest of my wine and do the same, putting my glass on the table, and turning to face him.

"So," I say. Pointing in the direction of the living room, referring to Violet.

"I could say the same for you. Teenagers, how is that working out for you?" After being asked that question, I give him a look, and we both laugh at what I am implying.

"Cherish those moments when Violet can't be away from her father because before you know it, they'll want you out of their room instead of kissing them goodnight." There is a brief pause in the conversation.

"I'm sorry about your m-"

"It's okay," I said, interrupting him. I didn't want to keep hearing the "my condolences speech, " which I've received since arriving in Cincinnati. Now I am determined to move past the grief and into healing. In the healing of my sibling and I relationship, me having seconds about if I'm happy at the job I've been working at for over ten years, healing from my mother's death, but to top it all off, healing from the divorce.

We talked until sunup. Ignoring the series of contagious yawns. He goes into the living room to get Violet sound asleep on Jordan's lap. He manages to put her coat on without waking her up, sneaking each arm into a sleeve. I walk them out to the front porch, where an inch of snow had already piled in the streets.

"How long are you going to be in town?"
"Just until Christmas, we'll be heading back to Seattle."

"Do you have any plans until then?" He asked. His round gentle eyes stare deeply for an answer.

"Nothing besides the Christmas dinner that no one is excited to have."

"Well, if you are not busy, there is this light show drive-through. You and the girls would like to go like the good old days.

"Sure. That'll be nice."

We went to the light show. Driving through the twinkling park, Violet's eyes glared at the lights, stunned in amazement. Pointing at every decoration, either naming it Frosty or Rudolph. Devin and Jordan were in the back seat, taking photos and videos for social media while Isaac and I sang along with Mariah Carey. After the light show, we decided to have hot cocoa in this giant warehouse at the trail's end. Inside was filled with laughter and joy. Families took photos in tiny NorthPole sets, stuffing their mouths with holiday cakes and cookies while admiring giant holiday-themed medieval paintings. In one corner of the warehouse is a carousel ride that Devin and Jordan took Violet to ride while Isaac and I went for our second cup of hot chocolate and third serving of freshly baked cookies with green and red sprinkles. We decided to walk around exploring all the different attractions they had set up.

"It's too bad your little princess isn't here. I'm pretty sure she would enjoy herself. Where is she anyways? I see your oldest two but surprised you didn't bring the youngest." Continuing to sip the hot beverage, allowing the liquid to burn the tip of my tongue. I decided to tell Isaac the one thing I was hoping no one would find out.

"She's with her mom." I kept on walking, but Isaac stopped. I can already imagine the confused face Isaac is giving me right now. He follows behind, and we stand in front of a giant realistic town model. The little civilians are carrying about their day in the snowy town, with kids building snowmen or having a massive snowball fight. Isaac stands beside me, like my supervisor Sam. I could feel him staring at me. Only this time, he had said something.