THE LAST TEAR
THE LAST TEAR
BY JOHN TUFT
Christmas is a brutal holiday. Expectations of joy have the dreary effect of draining away that very sought after feeling. Expectations of receiving and giving often get in the way of unrestrained giving and receiving. Expectations of nostalgic warmth often turn cold under the gaze of realism in family relationships. Expectations of marvelous magic evaporate in the cold rain when snow was hoped for. Billy Angel and Joy Carnival were no different than you or I. Wondering if they would ever find that one special person. Wondering if they were destined to be lonely. After all, tis a season of wonder, is it not. Billy and Joy met around Easter time and by Thanksgiving they were deeply in love. As Christmas approached, they wondered separately what gift would show the other just how much they meant. New love is like that. Old love aspires to be like that again.
Even as they made great plans for how they would spend their first Christmas together, each separately worried about the perfect gift. It had to be just right. Neither of them had much money to spend but what they did have each wanted to invest in a tangible sign of the depth of their love. Billy asked his mother and sisters, visited all the best shops, but nothing seemed right. Joy made lists of possible gifts but then found reasons why each one had to be struck. Black Friday came and went. A month of last minute sales failed to reveal the proper object of their quests. Despairing of ever finding the perfect gift of love, the late afternoon of Christmas Eve found Billy walking down a deserted road. In the distance he saw a cottage with a plume of smoke curling from its chimney. Desperate, he approached the front door and knocked. Unbeknownst to him, at the same moment a shadowy figure slipped out the rear door and disappeared into the rapid onset of winter dusk.
The door was opened by a majestic centaur, half human and half horse. His golden hair flowed over his strong chest and matched the color of his magnificent tail. “I am Solstice,” came a baritone voice. He turned to one side. “This is my wife, Wildfire.” The fierce looking female asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, “What have you come seeking?” Billy explained his dilemma. The two centaur smiled in a knowing way. Then before Billy knew what was happening, Solstice drew out a long needle from his hair and pierced Billy’s heart. The man cried out and tears ran freely. Wildfire expertly wielded a small crystal bottle and captured the tears before they hit the floor. “We will bring your gift Christmas morning,” promised Solstice as Wildfire applied a magic ointment to the small wound over Billy’s heart. Then after they drank a flagon of ale in front of the fire, Billy went home to wait for Christmas.
Early Christmas morning, Billy and Joy met at the inn on the edge of town. The giant tree glistened with lights and the great room was filled with merriment. Billy and Joy danced and sang. Joy had bandages on both her hands, but she dismissed Billy’s concerns. She wondered at his wincing when he reached to spin her around, but Billy brushed it aside. A festive breakfast was prepared and the celebrants dined on bacon and eggs and oranges, homemade cinnamon rolls, coffees from all corners of the kingdom, and an appropriate eggnog. When all had eaten, the cry went up for the opening of gifts and presents. Joy and Billy exchanged nervous looks. Neither had a gift yet for their beloved.
At the stroke of noon, the door crashed open with a blustery gust of snow and the Christmas centaur couple entered the great room. With much fanfare they summoned Billy and Joy to a spot prepared beneath the towering tree. “Did you bring my gift?” asked Billy. To his amazement, at the same time Joy also asked, “Did you bring my gift?” Solstice and Wildfire smiled as only centaur can and Wildfire withdrew a single small box from her mane. It was beautifully wrapped and seemed to glow of its own volition. “We have brought your gift!” said Solstice in a voice that shook the rafters. “But there is only one,” cried Billy. “One is all that is needed,” murmured Wildfire in that voice that was more of a breeze on a spring day. “We have brought you the gift of the last tear.”
Joy’s finger went to her mouth. “But I gave you my tears when you pricked my hands.” Billy looked at her, amazed. “And I gave my tears when they pierced my heart.” They unwrapped the box and took out a beautiful clear amulet. A single drop floated in the small space. “Set the last tear where you can always see it,” proclaimed Solstice. “Yes,” said Wildfire. “Love is work and love is blood. The pain of both gives us tears. Those tears are the greatest gift one can give another.” Then all those there gave the Christmas benediction: “For thus is love.” Both Billy and Joy kissed the last tear. And then each other. For the vessel matters little, but the gift is everything…
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
