Chapter Text
Jack woke up on the road on Christmas morning. It wasn’t the first time. A lot of people died around the holidays, or their kids finally were able to get together and had time to deal with the house. The Himmelsteins had been apologetic, but the only day their estate was available for pickup was December 25. After college, Peter had virtually stopped coming over for Christmas morning. Jack made the effort for Mary’s sake, but sometimes work got in the way. He remembered Dad missing some Christmases growing up. He wasn’t upset about it. Family Christmases as a single man in his thirties were not the magical mornings of childhood. He felt a little bad for Mary, stuck at home with the old folks. He hoped she’d get into the city with some friends at some point on break. He’d try to get her out one day for something. They hadn’t heard from Peter in a bit, but it was unlikely he’d be over. Since college, Peter had rarely come over on Christmas morning. That was one of the reasons Christmas had started being a weeklong celebration at home. Peter would come by at some point, and Ma loved planning menus and watching tv together, and keeping the decorations up as long as possible. The past few years she’d been dropping more and more hints that she’d like some tiny Callaghans running around on Christmas morning. Jack had been somewhat relieved that Pop had asked him to do some work that took him out of town for a few days and he was going to miss the actual day.
He'd promised Ma to call in the morning, so he was surprised when no one picked up. Maybe they were at Mass? They usually went to midnight Mass, but maybe Gram had fallen asleep. Jack had found a midnight Mass to go to, though it was odd to be there alone. Jack didn’t always go to Mass when he was on the road, but Mass on Christmas was non-negotiable and Mass at midnight always felt pleasantly eerie. He called again after packing up the furniture, adding a call to Saul and when no one picked up at either house he started worrying in earnest. Gram’s heart wasn’t good and he hoped she was ok. Hell, Ma and Pop weren’t getting any younger either. He called again when he got to the motel he was staying at that night.
Mary answered the phone, but as soon as she said, “Hi, Jack,” she was overtaken by Ma.
“Jack! When are you getting home? Peter’s in a coma.”
“What? How did that happen?” Peter was the last one he’d been worried about.
Ma started crying and Gram took over, “When will you be home, Jack? Everyone misses you.” “What happened to Peter?” “He hit his head. Something to do with a train. We spent all day at the hospital.”
“Is he going to be ok?”
“Christmas hasn’t been this eventful since your uncle was born.” Oh, no, she was going to start reminiscing and he’d never find out any more.
“Can you put Mary back on?”
His grandmother put the phone down and he dimly heard her call for Mary. All of a sudden the phone went dead and he just knew Pop had seen the receiver lying there off the hook and not bothered to find out if anyone was on the line. He sighed. He hoped Peter would be ok. Nothing he could do until he got back tomorrow. He’d try calling again in the morning.