Season's Greetings: A Carol Christmas

by Tigger
© 2000, all rights reserved

 

Christmas Yet to Be:

The stately Victorian mansion seemed hollow and empty as Darla moved about the first floor public rooms later that morning. For all the bright holiday color and decorations, Seasons House felt dull-gray and lifeless to the young man in girl's clothing.

Darla (originally and still sometimes Darryl) Smith had lived through gray and grim holidays before. All of them, actually, before a benevolent judge had sent a troubled, abused boy to Jane Thompson thinking he had been a voluntary party to several crimes perpetrated by his sadistic older brother. Darryl Smith had never even had a birthday party in his entire life prior to his coming to live with Jane Thompson, but every birthday or holiday since that magical moment had been... well, a dream come true for the love starved adolescent.

*And that is a big part of why you are so pissed off with Morris right now, m'dear self,* Darla admitted to herself. *Our failure to make any progress with him is casting this damned pall over the holiday season, and since last year you tasted how sweet a family Christmas is, you want to lash out at the obvious cause.*

The femininely turned-out boy was still arguing with himself over the relative fairness of that outlook when the cause of this internal conflict came into view.

For a moment, Darla could not quite believe the evidence of her eyes. Carl... Carol was sprawled on the parlor davenport, one leg flopped over the back of the sofa, the other draped along the cushions' edge with her foot resting on the floor as she read the morning newspaper. Unfortunately, she was wearing a skirt so her position put her petti's, garter belt, stockings and panties on full display.

"Dammit, Carol, sit like a lady!" Darla snapped, her anger bubbling over.

Perfectly made up, but hard gray eyes turned to gaze up at equally perfect blue ones. "But I am not a lady, Darla," was the quiet reply. "If I were in fact female, I think I would much prefer to be a slut, if that bitch Thompson is the model of what is required to be a lady."

Darla's hands fisted so hard she felt her nails cutting into her palms. "You agreed to follow Jane's orders," she hissed, striving for self control. "And that means you are to be a lady... HER kind of lady and LADIES do not lay about upon divans with their legs akimbo like some damned tramp waiting for her next john!"

Carol gave a cold bark of laughter, but rolled off the sofa to her feet, very daintily arranged her skirts and then reseated herself with caricatured feminine grace. "You were saying?" Carol asked, fluttering her lashes.

"Why?" was all Darla could manage to get past the fury-driven lump in her throat.

"I promised *MS* Thompson, that I would do my best to follow her orders. As I am not really a girl, that is my best."

"That's bull and we both know it! You haven't given anything even approximating a real effort to get with the program since the day you arrived!"

"Why should I? *This*," Carol shot back, running a long-nailed hand down her bodice and skirt, "Is bullshit! She wants to make me like women better by having me try BEING a woman? What is that? Walk a mile in her spike heels and learn her righteous point of view? Crap! She's just another bitch of a woman trying to tell men what to do. Well, I've taken everything she can dish out, and I still say, 'Screw her!'"

"Don't you think there might be a possibility that you are wrong, about women in general and about Ms. Thompson specifically? If you don't listen or do as you told, how will you ever find out?"

"There's nothing you or that woman can teach me, Chickie. As to the other, well, I've done what I've been told to do, when I've been told to do it, how I've been told to do it."

"And not a damn bit more!" Darla accused hotly.

"To what purpose? I've already told you what I think of this idiotic learn-by-doing program here. Besides, I'm out of here in a couple of weeks anyway and there's not a damned thing you or your MS Thompson or even my uncle can do about it!"

"So you turn eighteen. Big deal. Your uncle has told you there isn't any money for you until you pass muster with Jane, which you won't if you don't straighten up."

"Straighten up? Isn't being 'straight' a little hard when she rigs me out like this? And my uncle is in for as big a surprise as your sainted Ms. Thompson. He's not the only relative I had, and the inheritance he runs as trustee supposedly for me isn't the only one I have coming."

Darla was about to ask what Carol meant by that when the front door bell chimed.

*Who can that be?* she wondered. "We need to finish this discussion. Don't disappear!"

"Sure, Sweetcakes. Whatever you say, short-stuff."

With a barely stifled growl, Darla spun on her heel and strode to the door.

~-~

Darla glanced through the glass surrounding the heavy oak front door to see a man she had never met before. The heavy trench coat he wore against the blustery chill of a December day in New England hid all but his face in its bulk.. *One of Jane's business colleagues making an unannounced holiday visit?* she wondered as she opened the door. "Hello," she said through the still-chained door, "May I help you?"

The man gave her a considering look before nodding and passing a card through the cracked-open doorway. "Yes, please. Is Ms. Thompson at home? My name is Donald Madden."

"Who is it, dear?" Marie's voice called from the hall.

"Is that you, Miss Marie?" Madden called.

"Who?" Marie asked surprised as she came up to look out at their visitor. "Donna...aallld?" she suddenly stuttered out.

"Yes, ma'am," the fellow said with a little half smile. "I wondered if Ms. Jane was home?"

Marie gently elbowed Darla out of the way. For several moments, she stared at the man as if deciding what to do next. Finally, she sighed and unchained the door. "She's not here, Donald," the older woman offered in a coldly uninflected voice that Darla had never before heard coming from the gentle Marie. "Won't you come in for a moment and take the chill off?" she asked.

"Oh, all right. Just for a moment, though," he replied hesitantly.

*Whatever is bothering her about this guy,* Darla mused. *Marie actually wants him to stay.* She watched as Marie put her hands out to their visitor only to pull them behind her back after a brief handclasp. *Not only that, but she more than halfway wanted to hug him, but stopped herself. What on earth would stop Earth- Mother-Marie from pulling someone to her loving heart? Whoever this guy is, and whatever is causing Marie to give out such mixed signals, he is not merely another of Jane's business acquaintances.*

"You'll stay and have a cup of tea, Donald," Marie ordered briskly as she divested him of his heavy coat. "Why, you're chilled to the bone. Go make yourself comfortable in the morning room and I'll get the tea. Darla, you and Carol keep him company, please."

Left to play hostess, Darla started to guide their guest into the sun-warmed morning room on the southeast corner of the huge house, only to find him already halfway down the hall toward the room. *Maybe he just knows classical Victorian architecture?*

"Come along, Carol," Darla ordered wishing there was something else she could do with the delinquent student, "And be on your best behavior."

"Of course, dear," Carol replied in a catty purr, "Don't I always?" she asked before adding, "In public?"

They found their visitor strolling about the ornately decorated room, a strange smile on his face. Darla took this opportunity to take the measure of the man. He was not tall, perhaps five feet eight or so, but not much more, and slightly built. Male pattern baldness had begun to thin out the light brown hair on top of his head while his face was clean shaven.

He stopped his wandering at a display of nick-knacks. Smiling, he reached out a single finger to pet one of the menagerie of crystal animals arrayed on a table positioned before a window to catch the sun.

"Hardly anything changed," he murmured to himself before looking up to smile at Darla and Carol. "Marie ran off before she could introduce us. I've already told you my name. You two are?"

Blushing, Darla automatically dipped into a curtsy. "I do beg your pardon, Mr. Madden. My name is Darla Smith and this is my... friend, Carol Morris."

Donald Madden quirked an eyebrow in response, particularly when Carol pointedly did not emulate Darla's formal greeting, and then came over to clasp each girl's hand in turn. Just then, Marie bustled in, weighed down by a heavy silver tray. *My goodness,* Darla thought, *She is using the formal silver tea service. Tante Marie is really pulling out the stops for this guy!*

"Here, let me help you with that, Marie," a smiling Donald Madden offered as he took the tray from her. He settled the tray on the large coffee table that Jane used for precisely that purpose in her lessons with students, and then politely waited for the ladies to seat themselves. "Shall I pour, Marie?" Marie nodded, but Darla could see the tension in her eyes as she watched their guest's every move.

"This room hasn't changed a bit," he said to Marie. "Do you still insist on dusting the crystal creatures yourself?"

Marie blushed, but before she could answer, Carol trilled, "Oh, the only time Marie gets at all upset is if we so much as look cross-eyed at her glass pets."

Donald regarded the tall, blonde beauty for several moments with an intensity that made even the haughty Carol look away. "I take it you two are Jane's current students in residence?"

"So she says." "Yes, sir." were the simultaneous responses.

Nodding, Donald turned toward Darla. "I assume, then, that you are the big si...that is, the experienced mentor student?"

Understanding hit Darla with icy clarity. *He KNOWS!* Perhaps it was the shock of that realization, but Darla answered him without fully considering her words. "Yes, sir, but I'm not very good at it, I am afraid."

"I see," was all he said as his gaze shifted back to Carol.

"So, Don... ald, tell me what you are doing up this way?" Marie leapt into the break, her voice still wary.

For her part, Darla watched and listened with interest as Marie tried to divert the conversation away from Carol. *There is no doubt in my mind that he knows about Jane's teaching practices and that he believes that both Carol and I are really male under our dresses and pretty undies. The only way he knows those hard little truths is if he is a parent or relative of one of Jane's former students, or one of Jane's supporters among the law-types or social services folks, or... or he's a former student himself,* Darla wondered about that, and then recalled the comment about Marie's possessiveness of the crystal zoo. *Only a former student would know that only Marie is allowed to so much as look at those things with a duster in hand. Not only that, but Marie stumbled over his name - twice - each time nearly calling him Donna. Therefore, I think I can safely assume that Donald is one of Jane's boys, and that was his 'femme-name'.*

The conversation turned to Donald's current activities, but he sidestepped those questions. *Wonder why he doesn't want to talk about himself? Because he simply doesn't want to answer Marie's so-very-pointed questions about himself? Or might it be because Carol and I are here and he's afraid he might give away one of Jane's secrets to our detriment? I wonder... Marie is really of two minds about him. Nervous and wary, yet somehow pleased and hopeful.. But I've been here when a former student has come to visit before, and Marie was not nearly so reserved or cold as she is trying to be with Donald Madden. Could he be one of the two infamous Thompson failures? If he is, he must be the corporate raider because the other fellow is in prison, serving life-without-parole as a three-time loser. Isn't this interesting?*

Darla's thoughts were broken when the man turned back to Carol. "Tell me why Miss Smith believes she is not doing a good job as your mentor," he ordered. "You seem to have acquired all the appropriate social skills and graces."

"Donald..." Marie tried to intercede, but it was too late. Darla saw something change in Carol's demeanor, saw her eyes become hard.

"Because there is nothing she and that Thompson woman have to teach me that I care or need to learn."

"And how long have you been here?" the man's voice was suddenly very soft.

"It will be exactly six months tomorrow. Merry frigging Christmas!"

"CAROL!" Marie snapped. "That will be ENOUGH of that language. Apologize immediately!"

Madden held up a hand to Marie. "No, don't apologize unless you mean it," he said, his eyes still fixed on Carol. "Do you know why I came up here?"

Setting her cup down, Carol sat back in the chair. "I am sure I don't really care," she retorted, no longer playing the game.

"I can see you don't, but I will tell you anyway. I came here because I did not want to face another Christmas like the fifteen I've suffered through since I was Jane Thompson's student. I came here because, surrounded by people, in the midst of a hundred parties, I was unutterably lonely."

Carol gave a derisive bark of laughter. "So why did you come to this armpit of the world? There's not that many people here."

"Because for all the mistakes I made while I was here, and they were legion, I wasn't ever lonely here," he said simply.

"Oh, so you are like Barbie's little friend Skipper here," Carol disdained, pointing theatrically at Darla, "one of Ms. Thompson's perfect little society boys and girls; a credit to her sadistic little program."

"I think you owe both Miss Smith and Miss Thompson an apology, young lady," Madden said coldly. "But you wouldn't mean them either, so again, please don't bother. To answer your challenge, no, I am not one of Jane's successes. After seven months here, she finally had to admit that I wasn't going to come around and, very sadly, sent me home."

"Good for you!" Carol cheered. "It's good to know that she can be had after all."

"You really are a fool, aren't you?" Madden said, his head shaking in what seemed to be disbelief. "You haven't listened at all, but I will put it to you again, this time in simple words. I screwed up here. I was so sure I was right and she was wrong that I only went through the motions. Oh, I learned all her lessons because there wasn't any way not to, but I never internalized them. I left here the same foolishly proud, arrogant asshole I was when I arrived."

"You don't look like you've done so poorly. That's a hand- tailored suit you're wearing and those shoes you're wearing cost as much as some cars."

"I've been successful," he admitted. "And many people have suffered a very great deal for that success. As a result, nice people either fear me or dislike me, and the only ones who are willing to pretend to be friends with me are those who want to be friends with my money."

"Who needs friends?" Carol waved that away disdainfully.

Sighing, Donald rose to his feet and offered his hand to Marie. "I had better go," he said with real sadness in his voice. Then he turned back to Carol. "I asked that very same question fifteen years ago when I was Jane's student. I know the answer now - *I* need them. Someday, you'll need them, but you won't believe that now. You're too much like I was - proud, arrogant and stupidly sure of yourself for no real or valid reason. In fact, I think in fifteen years, you too will find yourself alone and worse than just alone, you will find yourself lonely, despite any apparent success you might achieve, despite however many hangers-on you have around you pretending to be your friends. Look at me, you adolescent fool, and see your future if you don't mend your ways and start listening to people who have only your best interests at heart."

With that, Madden spun on his heel and left the room.

Marie, a distressed look on her face, rushed out after him, followed by Darla. They caught up with him as he was pulling his coat from the foyer closet. "I am sorry, Marie, for losing my cool that way. She's just so much like me, making the same damned mistakes I made."

Marie only put her arms around him and hugged him. "I'm glad to see you, again, Donna, and so glad you cared enough to come back. Jane would love to see you, too."

"I can't stay long, and I don't think it would help for me to see that one again," he said sadly.

"Mr. Madden?" Darla interjected. "Carol will not be eating with us tonight by Jane's order. Perhaps you would join us for dinner? Say about 6:30? Jane could really use the company, I think, because, well, as you can tell, things are not going well with Carol. Maybe... maybe seeing you would help improve her spirits."

"Yes, Donna, please come to dinner," Marie urged.

There was a look of wistful longing in the man's pale blue eyes. "All right, I'll try. But I will call first to make sure it is all right with Aunt Jane." He finished buttoning his coat and gave Marie a kiss on the cheek before offering his hand to Darla. "And I don't think you've anything to be ashamed of with respect to your performance of your responsibilities as big sister, Miss Smith. Some... some of us just don't know when we're being helped or when we're well off. Good day."

 

 

 

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© 2000 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.