Bah! Humbug - A Jeff Resnick Story Read Free Page A

was
choking on it.
    Irene turned her attention to her father and
I poked at the mashed potatoes on my plate. Maybe we’d only have to
stay another hour. But there was still that mound of gifts to open.
Did the Brennan clan open them one-by-one, or did they have a
rip-fest with wrapping paper flying and demolish the pile in record
speed? I could only hope .…
    I took a bite of turkey, chewing slowly when
I was hit by a sudden sense of panic emanating from nearby. I
swallowed quickly and for a moment the meat caught in my throat. I
grabbed my drink and took a swallow, but the panic I felt kicked
into overdrive.
    Someone at the table was choking—couldn’t
communicate it—and a flame of fear coursed through me.
    My gaze darted to those at the table, but
everyone seemed to be conversing or fixated with the food on their
plates.
    Then I knew.
    I shoved back my chair with such force that
the table shuddered.
    “ Jeff?” Maggie
asked.
    I ignored her and stumbled against Peter’s
chair, shoving him forward and nearly into his plate.
    “ Hey!”
    Like magnetic force, I felt drawn to the
kids’ table, panic nearly choking me, too.
    The smallest boy at the satellite table had
placed a hand on his throat. I grabbed him from behind, pulled him
off his chair and placed my clenched fist against his sternum and
gave a mighty jerk. The boy made croaking sounds, and his panic
kicked into overdrive.
    I gave him another two quick jerks and a
hunk of turkey ejected from his mouth, landing on Eleanor’s
plate.
    “ Eeeoooooo!” she wailed,
and jumped to her feet. Her plate went flying and crashed against
the wall, where it shattered into a dozen pieces.
    Irene shot out of her chair like a missile.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.
    The boy—Brian?—was limp in my arms,
coughing, struggling for breath.
    “ Put that child down,”
Irene hollered, and launched herself at me.
    I dropped the kid back into his seat, but
Irene crashed into me, her arms flying—windmill style—slapping at
me, shoving me backward.
    “ You goddamned
bastard—you’ve ruined our Christmas!”
    I tried to get around her, but Irene had
forty or fifty pounds on me, and I crashed into the buff-painted
wall. A framed picture crashed, glass shattering as it hit the
hardwood floor.
    “ Mama, Mama!” the little
boy wailed.
    Peter was suddenly there, yanking his wife
off of me, grabbing her arms and pulling her away.
    Sandy had grabbed her son in a fierce hug, patting
his back.
    “ I couldn’t breathe, I
couldn’t breathe!” the boy cried, and buried his face in her
sweatered shoulder.
    “ How did you know?” Sandy
asked, her face taut with fear. “You couldn’t see the kids from
your seat. How did you know?” she demanded.
    All eyes were on me. Maggie
hadn’t told them about my gift. Instead of gratitude, the entire
family looked at me with suspicion—as though I had caused the kid to
choke.
    “ What are you?” Irene asked.
    I saw a wild-eyed Maggie standing behind her
confused parents. “I’ve had enough,” I told her, and headed for the
front door. Grabbing my jacket—from the closet floor—I struggled
into the sleeves and yanked open the front door, letting it slam
behind me.
    I made it to the car by the time Maggie came
running after me, sans coat. “Jeff, wait!”
    I opened the driver’s door, the dome light
spilling wan light onto the darkened, snowy drive.
    “ Where are you going?”
Maggie said.
    “ Where else,
home.”
    She stood there, hands cupping opposite
elbows, shivering in the cold. “I don’t think they realize you just
saved Brian’s life.”
    “ Yeah, well, I don’t think
I’ll hang around to wait for their show of appreciation. Give my
regrets to Irene, will you?”
    “ Jeff, please come back in.
I’ll explain everything. I’ll make them understand.”
    “ You can’t. Don’t you see,
Maggie, Irene has already poisoned them against me. Maybe she’s
right. Maybe I’m nothing but trouble for you.