Magnolia Christmas

chapbook by Janet Kuypers

1994

coquinas 1 I can’t imagine the number of times I’ve been there visiting Florida, Christmas with my parents a plastic tree decorated with sand dollars and red ribbons eating Christmas dinner listening to Johnny Mathis and after the Irish coffee, father with his brandy snifter in hand mother and the other girls putting away the dishes the carolers would come, walking in front of our home singing “We wish you a merry Christmas” over and over again we would walk outside and the cool breeze almost felt like Christmas after the hot humid days and we would stand on our driveway smile and nod you could see down the road all the candles in paper bags lining the street and for a few lights the bag burned 2 and we would take boat rides off the coast my parents and their friends to a tiny island dad drinking beer sometimes steering the boat control the women sitting together in the shade worrying about their hair i would sit at the front sunglasses, swimsuit and sunburn feeling the wind slapping me in the face and turning my head away from the boat into the wind away from them to face it again docking at a shoreline everyone jumping out little bags in their hands the women go looking for shells the men go barbecue after an hour or two the sandwiches, potato chips eaten the soda and beer almost gone we turn around and head back we have conquered 3 and I remember the coquinas the little shells you could find them alive on the beaches north of the pier in Naples going to the beach I would look for a spot to find them they were all my own they burrowed their way into the sand to avoid the light worming their way away from me I unearthed a group of coquinas once, fascinated with their color of their shells, the way they moved before they could hide I collected them in a jar, took them home with me what did you teach me what have you taught me to do is this it is this what it has become is this what has become of me of you of us and I took them home I added salt water and sand but I couldn’t feed them I realized soon that they would die so I let them

what you could make me do- I I remember when you and Brad and Joe and I decided to kill a bottle of champagne, Andre pink, two-for-five, on a building top in the December cold. I remember standing at the top of this building with this bottle of cheap champagne in my hand and not caring that it was cold, that I was breaking the law. I was young, and free. And I had friends. We stood in the shape of a triangle and made the person in the center drink. I said they had to spin while they drank, then belch when they were done. Brad and Joe were more than willing; the belching was a contest for them. And I became one of the boys for a night, to become closer to you. You didn’t want to belch, or spin, or really even drink. I didn’t make you. But you did. And I’d like to think that in your heart you did it because you wanted to follow me. I’ve always wanted to tell you that I wanted to follow you, too.----- II I got your watch engraved the day of my Christmas party. I didn’t want to bother with wrapping the thing, besides, I didn’t even have a box for it, so I just wore it. You never knew it was there. When you couldn’t take the suspense any longer, I told you that I had it on me. It must have been quite a sight to see you walking in circles around me, trying to figure out what I was hiding from you. But I wasn’t even hiding it. I was wearing it on my wrist, with my other watch, as plain as day. III So I made a full picnic and brought it to an empty theater. And I put on my best black dress, you know, the one that is off the shoulders, the one I wear to make heads turn. I set out the food, played slow music and put the champagne glasses you bought me on the center of the stage floor. When I sat down I was afraid splinters from the hard-wood floor would run my stockings. But I wanted you to see what you could make me do. I didn’t want you to think I was some nobody. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you opened the theater doors. That night you said that everything was perfect. But it was perfect only when you sat down to join me.

Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.

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