Benny Jay: This Christmas

It’s the Monday before Christmas and I’m sitting at the bar in the bowling alley, having a drink.

I don’t usually drink, but this is Mark the cop’s famous, Christmas-time eggnog. It tastes so sweet — you don’t even know you’re drinking.

I have one. Then another. Next thing you know I’m having a third. I feel a gentle groove – all troubles gone. Now I know why these guys drink so much.

It’s after midnight. Late for me. Even J Dub and Norm have left. But I don’t feel like going home.

I’m just sitting with Cap — plastic cups of eggnog in front of us — listening to the music and staring at the soundless TV.

Over the jukebox comes “Try a Little Tenderness.”

“Great song,” says Cap.

“One of the greatest,” I say

“Makes me think of my mom,” he says. “She loved Otis.…”

He pauses, then adds: “I don’t want to get all melancholy. But I miss my mom….”

“When did she die?”

“A long time ago….”

“Tell you what, Cap – let’s drink a toast to your mom….”

We face the east.

“To your mom,” I say.

We clink cups and down our eggnog.

Then we sit back at the bar.

On comes  “Please Come Home for Christmas.”

“My baby’s gone, I have no friends….”

“Who sings this?” I ask.

“Charles Brown,” he says.

“It’s a great one….”

“There’ll be no sorrow, no grief and no pain, and I’ll be happy, happy once again….”

“But it’s not the greatest Christmas song,” I add.

“What’s that?” asks Cap.

“Donny Hathaway….”

“You talkin’ about `This Christmas’?”

“World’s greatest Christmas song….”

“Let’s play it,” he says.

He walks to the jukebox and comes back. We stare at the TV. A new song comes on the jukebox. It sounds familiar. But it sure isn’t Donny Hathaway.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Madonna,” he says.

“Madonna?”

“`Material Girl.’” He shrugs. “I accidentally put it on a while back.  I meant to play the Marvelettes. But I pushed the wrong buttons…”

“Well, there’s worse things than listening to Madonna….”

I’m looking out the big bar window. It’s starting to snow.

Madonna finishes. Donny Hathaway comes on.

“Fireside is burning bright….”

Cap and me start singing a long….

“And we’re caroling through the night….”

We sing louder….

“And this Christmas will be….”

As Donny hits the chorus, we’re bellowing….

“A very special Christmas for me….”

“Shut the fuck up,” someone yells from across the room.

We’re laughing pretty hard. “I thought we sounded good,” I say.

“Yeah, really good,” says Cap.

I toy with my eggnog cup. “You know, Cap, I just want to say — we got a lot to be thankful for….”

“I know….”

“I mean, I bitch and moan about this and that, but basically I can’t complain….”

“Me neither….”

“You think it’s the eggnog talking, man?”

“Nah, man, we both got a lot to be thankful for,” he says. “We’re two lucky mother fuckers….”

“Let’s drink a toast,” I say. “To two lucky mother fuckers….”

We lift our cups, turn to the east and down the last of our eggnog.

“Gonna have another?” asks Cap.

“Nah. I drink another one and you’ll have to peel me off the floor….”

I gather my coat and hat and walk out into the cold.

There’s not a car in sight. Snow’s falling everywhere.

Further down the block I see a few of the High Rollers doing their high-roller thing.

“Want some?” V-train calls out.

“Maybe thirty years ago,” I say.

“C’mon — for old times sake….”

“Nah, those days are long gone. But you enjoy….”

I cross the street. And just before I turn the corner for home I think of something unsaid.

“Hey, boys,” I yell.

They look up from their smoke.

“Merry Christmas….”