Chapter 9

The next morning, Gorg and Ebenezer went to a Christmas tree lot and bought a tree. Gorg couldn’t stand the idea of a dead tree bearing his gifts for his upcoming child, so they went to a lot that sold live trees that could be transplanted after the holidays. The young man who worked there used a length of rope to secure the tree to the top of the Jeep.

When they got home, Gorg insisted on carrying it into the house by himself. “No, you are not carrying this! It’s too heavy. You need to take it easy, Ebbie.”

Gorg decided the tree should go up in the living room corner between the fireplace and the picture window. He set it up, stood back, and reached for Ebenezer’s hand, smiling. “It’s perfect,” Gorg said. “Or it will be once we add a few things.”

Ebenezer turned to stare at him. “Add a few what ?”

“I want our child to have the most beautiful birth tree on the planet. I want lights and garland and tinsel, like you had on your tree when you were little.”

“This was supposed to be a birth tree, not a Christmas tree!” Ebenezer argued. “You know how I feel about the holidays!”

“I’m not asking you to celebrate your holidays. I’m asking you to celebrate the upcoming birth of our child.”

Try as he might, Ebenezer couldn’t fault Gorg’s logic. Again, it all depended on if what Gorg said was true, which Ebenezer still found difficult to believe. “But does it have to look so much like a Christmas tree?” he whined.

“Don’t you want our child to be born healthy and happy?” Gorg eyed Ebenezer. “That’s the traditional meaning of the birth tree. All our hopes and wishes for the health and happiness of the baby are hung from the branches.”

“Fine. We’ll go to Walmart tomorrow and grab some lights, garland, and tinsel.” Ebbie put up a finger. “For the birth tree, not the Christmas tree.”

“Of course, my love. I know how you feel about the holidays.” Gorg grinned at him, making Ebenezer feel like he’d somehow lost an argument.

***

The store was crowded when they got there, and parking was a nightmare. It took them twenty minutes to score a space a football field’s length from the store.

Okay, that was probably an exaggeration. It wasn’t that far to walk, but Ebenezer was not in a good mood, and it felt that way to him.

He didn’t want to be at Walmart shopping at this time of year, and especially not shopping in the holiday department, but he’d promised Gorg they would go.

Gorg was bundled up in his overcoat, but considering how the majority of people dressed to go to the store these days, it hardly mattered. People showed up in costumes, bathing suits, and pajamas…an overcoat was hardly worth noticing.

Ebenezer grabbed a shopping cart and led Gorg through the store to where the decorations were kept.

The holiday department was located at the back of the store where the gardening supplies were usually shelved. The large room was filled with everything Christmas, and Gorg’s eyes grew as wide as saucers at the display.

With a bit of difficulty, Ebenezer steered Gorg away from the illuminated, blow-up lawn displays — Santa in an outhouse seemed to fascinate Gorg — to the rack full of boxes of garland and tinsel. “What color garland do you want? Silver? Gold? Red? Green? Blue?”

“All of them!” Gorg replied, sounding positively giddy. “I want a rainbow on our birth tree!”

Ebenezer nodded. “Okay, one of each.” He pulled boxes of each color from the shelf and placed them in their shopping cart. He reached for the tinsel, taking two boxes.

“Oh, no. We’ll need more than just two!” Gorg cried.

“A little of this stuff goes a long way,” Ebenezer replied. He was thinking of finding tinsel tucked away behind the sofa or under the chairs next year, long after the “birth” tree had been stripped of its decorations and planted in the yard.

He had been unaware that aliens knew how to use “puppy eyes,” but Gorg looked at him with the most wishful and hopeful expression full of love and longing that before he even knew it, Ebenezer had slipped five more boxes of tinsel into the cart.

The next stop was for lights. Gorg was immediately drawn to lights shaped like small flowers, each in a different color. “Oh, I like these!”

“Of course you do. You wouldn’t like plain ol’ white lights. These are multi-color, flashing, and chasing lights. They do everything but sing to you.”

Gorg gasped. “Do they have lights that sing? I should very much like lights that sing.”

“Goddamn it, me and my big, fat mouth,” Ebenezer grumbled. He led Gorg to another display of colored lights that flashed, chased, and played twenty-five different holiday tunes.

Gorg clapped his hands and did a little jump. “Oh, these are perfect!”

“Shh, calm down. Your tentacles are squirming like crazy. The store is going to think we’re shoplifting puppies or something.”

“Do they sell puppies here? I would like a puppy.”

Ebenezer frowned. “No, they don’t. I was being facetious, and we don’t need a puppy.”

“Puppies are fun. I read about them and saw them on your television.”

“If, according to you, we’re going to have a baby, we’ll have enough to do without worrying about a dog.”

Gorg huffed. “I will attribute your grumpiness to your pregnancy,” he said. “But please reconsider the puppy. I saw on television that they are very good with children.”

“This is not the time or place to have this discussion!” Ebenezer said. “Now, while we’re at the store, is there anything else we need for this birth tree?”

Gorg tapped his chin with one finger. “I should like one more thing, Ebbie. I want a star for the top of the tree.”

“Oh, hell no! You only want a star because you saw my dad put one on top of the last tree my family decorated,” Ebenezer growled.

“Ebbie, shame on you. I want a star to show our baby where his or her Papa came from. I came from the stars, from another galaxy. The star represents his or her roots.”

Ebenezer felt doubtful that was the entire reason Gorg wanted the star, but under the circumstances, in a crowded store with lots of other shoppers who might overhear their conversation, he let it go. “Okay. They’re over here.”

Gorg found a crystal star that caught the light in a prism. “This one! This is it! Oh, Ebenezer, can you picture how beautiful it will be on top of the birth tree?”

Ebenezer nodded because it was true; the star was gorgeous. He placed it in the cart along with the rest of the merchandise.

“You mentioned you were going to make things for the tree. What do you need to do that?” Ebenezer asked.

“Oh, lots of things. Bits of cloth, ribbon, wood, metal…”

“Craft section, here we come,” Ebenezer said, very glad to be getting out of the holiday section. It made him nervous because he found himself reexamining why he still detested the holidays so much and was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, they might not be so bad if he shared them with Gorg.

From the craft section of the store, Gorg selected squares of colorful cloth meant for quilting, needles and thread, scissors, wooden plaques shaped like stars and hearts, paint, brushes, beads, and a myriad of other craft materials. He filled up the cart, so much so that Ebenezer had a hard time keeping stuff from spilling out as he pushed it.

“Is that it now? Do we have everything?” he asked Gorg.

“Oh, yes. I think we have plenty of things. Is there anything you want, my love? You mentioned egg salad and peanut butter earlier…”

“Ugh. No. I don’t want anything — well, actually, that’s a lie. I want a big jar of dill pickles, and a couple of cans of Spam.”

“What is Spam? I am unfamiliar with this substance.”

“It’s a canned meat. Very popular in Hawaii.” Ebenezer noticed a woman in the aisle glance at him. “Don’t judge me. I like Spam.”

“And so you shall have it,” Gorg said. He led Ebbie up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves until he found the small, oval cans of meat product. “Which one? There are many.”

Ebenezer considered his choices. “Oh! I want a teriyaki, a maple, and a hot and spicy.” He plucked the cans from the shelf and placed them on top of the craft materials in the cart. “Now we need pickles. And milk. We’re out of milk.”

They picked up the supplies and waited in a long line for checkout. To Ebenezer’s consternation, it took almost as long to check out as it had to pick up the merchandise.

He paid with his Amex again, then Gorg pushed the cart across the parking lot to the car. They loaded the trunk, and got in.

That’s when Ebenezer’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Ebenezer? It’s Roger Atkins. I have some bad news for you.”

“Why am I not surprised, Roger? When have you ever called me with good news?”