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Sue Miller Mrs. Tremboldt's Fantasy |
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First, Marshall unwrapped the ornaments and lined them up on the dining room table. He placed hooks into each of the fragile glittery things. His wife unwound lights from the cardboard stock and draped them along the hallway floor down to the kitchen. It was her job to find the defective bulb in a dead string, to pull and plug back in with a new bulb until the culprit was discovered. Next, Marshall unpacked and assembled the artificial tree. His wife cleared a spot for it the night before after the dinner clean-up, moving the table from the front window into the hallway for the season. Marshall had chosen well. It was so realistic that many guests commented on its curious lack of fragrance. One year, Marshall’s wife bought a can of balsam scented air freshener. She sprayed just before company arrived, to quell the questioning. She had come to him and told him her idea before the purchase. Marshall approved. Once she bought a different brand, and he had asked her to return it and obtain the original fragrance. She complied. Finally, he decorated. The two worked seamlessly, mostly in silence, with her handing him each object as he required it. The last touch was the candles in the window. These, too, had been hallway-tested by Marshall’s wife as he toiled to set everything else in its place. But she was allowed to place the candles. She measured out the exact center, and mounted them on the windowpanes. Once he had finished setting things up and the house was ready the eggnog was served and the two of them sat in silent darkness. Marshall installed a clapper for this first night. He loved the drama of all the lights coming on at once. The two communicated to each other in hushed whispers how perfect it was going to be, then sat back and clapped. The room lit up, ready for the season. Each and every year, Marshall thought how lovely it was, how lovely she was, and sighed contentedly. Each year, his wife wondered why this wasn’t the year she dosed the eggnog.
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