On Strike for Christmas Read Online Free Page A

somehow. To Bob she said, “Guess we’ll just have to tell Bobby that the Grinch hit town.”
    â€œCome on now, hon. You know you love this time of year,” Bob reasoned.
    â€œBut you don’t, so this is my present to you—a Christmas of nothing.” And boy, she hoped he quickly came to see what she was really giving him. She thought of Clarence the angel in It’s a Wonderful Life . You’ve been given a great gift . She turned and started back down the hall.
    Bob followed her. “Okay, you can stop. I get your point. I’ll go to your brother’s on Christmas Eve without complaining.”
    â€œToo late,” she said, waving away his plea bargain. “It’s gone beyond that. I’ve had an epiphany and you’re going to finally get your wish for a peaceful Christmas—no parties, no people, no hassles. This year you’re going to be living in a holiday desert.”
    â€œThat sounds more like an oasis to me,” Bob retorted. “Most of that stuff is stupid and silly and has nothing to do with the meaning of Christmas. Anyway, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a January thirty-first deadline on this book. I don’t have time to play along with this little game.”
    What a crock! She knew he had only a couple chapters left to write. “Trust me, Bob. It’s not a game. I’m not doing anything this year.”
    He trailed her all the way into the kitchen. “You can’t just do nothing.”
    She went to work unloading the dishwasher. “Listen to you. I’m about to give you the kind of un-Christmas you’ve been dreaming about for years. I should think you’d be doing cartwheels about now.”
    â€œI’m only thinking about the kids. It makes no difference to me.” He started helping, putting glasses in the cupboard every which way. After all these years, he still paid no attention to the well-planned order in her cupboards. It was her own fault; she’d trained him poorly.
    For a moment Joy had a picture of her house all Bobbed up for Christmas, a holiday mausoleum with no tree, no happy guests, and no laughter. Her pretty, apple green kitchen, with its double oven and abundance of counter space, would sit useless, empty of the aroma of spices and baking chocolate. How badly did she want to make a point, anyway? She could see that holiday desert stretching before her and a weatherworn hand-painted sign that read TURN BACK. YOU’LL BE SOOOORY.
    She averted her gaze and forged on. “I’m willing to live with whatever you’re willing to do.” And he’d have to do something.
    â€œHey, I’m willing to do nothing. I can live without all of it. Peace and quiet will be nice for a change.”
    And with that parting shot, he left, just as the cuckoo clock on the wall struck the hour. “Cuckoo,” said the little bird, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo….”
    â€œOh, shut up,” Joy told it and started setting her cupboard to rights. What in the name of figgy pudding had she done? And, more to the point, how was she going to be able to stay strong and stick to the plan? Note to self: Stock up on extra chocolate. You’re going to need it.
    Â 
    â€œWhat were you thinking?” she asked herself as she drove across town Saturday night, her car packed full of goodies for someone else’s party. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish, really? Bob’s not going to change, not after all these years.” And it was probably unfair to expect him to. They were opposites and that was that.
    And most of the time their differences complemented each other. Bob brought order and security to her world, kept their finances humming along smoothly, and kept calm in the face of trouble. She gave him love and emotional support and put spice in his life.
    Except this Christmas. There would be no spice. It would be like cookies without the salt.