obligatoryass | OOM: The ghost of Christmas past

OOM: The ghost of Christmas past

As he wakes up for the second time that night, Logan feels a small, cool hand brushing the sand out of his eyes.

He sits up, more sand falling from his face as he does so. "Uh, thanks. What, uh, what happened? What time is it?"

Not waiting for an answer, he pulls out his phone and checks the time. 1 a.m. Huh. He could have sworn it was that late when he got to the beach...had he missed a whole day? Not likely; the cops would have hauled his ass off to jail if he had been passed out on the beach in the daylight. But the time thing is weird.

When he doesn't get an answer to anything he asked, not even a noncommital, 'No idea, dude,' he looks away from the phone and toward the helpful stranger.

It's a strange thing to see a friend from another world on a beach in your own, but at least she's still alive. Seeing your dead father definitely is hard to top.

When your friend, the Queen of Ambergeldar, pushes back her hood and smiles at you, giving off a soft, glowing light, you might reconsider how you define 'strange.'

"Are you the spirit that was foretold?" Logan asks, stupidly parroting back the lines he remembers from the movie.

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"I am!" she says, and the voice is soft and gentle.

"Christmas past, right?" he asks. Why she looks like his best friend from the Bar, he has no idea, but it's probably not important.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, yes," she says.

And it is important, of course it's important, but if he can't figure it out, then there's likely no man alive who could.

"I am the ghost of your past, Logan."

Introspection will come later. Much, much later, perhaps. And maybe then he'll figure it out. Asking seems futile, though, so he doesn't bother.

"Yeah, I've heard that. And you're supposed to be looking after my welfare, right? Seems to me a little more rest might do me better than rustling around in my memories."

"Your reclamation, then," she says.

"Grace."

She reaches hand out and takes him by the arm, and her grip is surprisingly strong.

"Rise. Rise, and walk with me."

"Grace," Logan murmurs, remembering a long ago conversation.

He does as she bids, but seeing her walk toward the (very, very, very cold) ocean, he balks. "I don't know where you think you're going, but I can't follow. I will sink."

Besides, isn't the Ghost of Christmas Past supposed to fly? Some Christmas Carol this production is.

The Ghost of Christmas Past isn't usually played by a woman related to every noble family in all of Europe, either.

"Keep hold of my hand," she says, and really, she doesn't give him much choice in the matter, because she keeps hold of his and she doesn't stop. "You will not sink."

And with those words, they step out onto the waves, and everything that was around them vanishes.

When the world reappears, it's wildly different from the beach they left.

A sandy-haired boy eyes a redheaded girl warily from his spot on the floor where he's sorting ornaments. She's scowling and listening to a Walkman, wearing a truly hideous Christmas sweater - bright red, with a giant Christmas tree, which probably explains the scowl. It makes clashes horribly with her hair and makes her look washed-out, blotchy and all-around unattractive. Lynn Echolls perches on a chair near the fireplace (which has a roaring fire going, despite the fact that it's not the least bit cold), and a photographer for People is shooting the scene.

"Trina," Lynn calls, when the photographer suggests shooting the kids decorating the tree. Trina doesn't respond, either because the music's too loud or because she's ignoring Lynn (probably the latter, really). Lynn tries to get her attention a few more times, but finally gives up and pulls the headphones off her step-daughter's ears. "Trina, dear, why don't you help Logan decorate the tree?" She turns to the photographer. "Trina's been such a delightful addition to our household. She and Logan just adore each other. I don't know how we made it through without her."

“Because it’s stupid, ‘Mom,’ and because you only want me to do it because it’ll make for a ‘delightful’ photograph with my ‘adorable’ little brother.” But she gets up anyway, and goes over to the tree.

Lynn ignores her and then excuses herself to find where Aaron’s gotten to. The photographer, after looking a bit askance at the girl, gets his camera and starts shooting as Trina picks up a nutcracker ornament from one of Logan’s piles.

Alarmed, Logan watches her move toward the big tree in the living room. When she goes to put the ornament on one of the middle branches, he cries, “NO, Trina. Not there!”

She looks at him in surprise. “Did you want this branch or something?”

“No!” Logan says, eyes wide. “The nutcrackers don’t go on that tree. Only the snowflakes go on that tree. The nutcrackers go on the little tree in the hall.”

She blinks at him. “What are you talking about?”

Logan shrugs, looking very earnest. “It’s the snowflake tree in here. Winter Wonderland, mom calls it. The village goes under the tree,” he says, pointing at Victorian-style ceramic houses and people.

Trina rolls her eyes. “Logan, I’m not stupid. Nobody has rules on Christmas trees. It’s supposed to be happy and jumbled and . . . visions of sugar plums.”

Logan looks deeply confused. "I don't know," he says. "Mom has lots of rules." He pauses, then starts reciting a long list of ridiculous rules that would be at home in a Martha Stewart catalog until Trina cuts him off.

"To hell with all that," she says, dropping the nutcracker onto the Victorian Village’s church and breaking both. "You and your mom can decorate your own damn tree with all her damn rules. Have your own damn Christmas, too.”

She stalks off, leaving Logan and the photographer staring after her in shock.

The Spirit stares at Logan with eyes both like and not like his friend's.

"Do you remember this Christmas?"

The likeness ought to be comforting, but it's hugely overshadowed by the difference.

"I do, yeah. I just - God, I was a little shit to her. I was so happy to have any attention at all, even if it was a total sham, and she ruined everything. Took Aaron's attention, took Mom's by making her so mad."

He's quiet for a long moment. "I never thought how hard it was, for her. Her mom hadn't even died that long ago."

"There were other Christmases in this place, with your family," she says, and waves a hand.

The scene before him changes like pages flipping in a book.

Each Christmas is worse than the last. Logan's treated to the Christmas with the pears, their puking aftermath. The Christmas they took a vacation to 'spend time with each other' and wound up avoiding each other as much as possible. The Christmas Trina refused to come home. Each worst than the last.

"Oh, Spirit, no more, please, no more," Logan cries as they watch the last Christmas of Lynn Echolls' life, with the fake snow, the Victorian carolers and the stabbing of his father. "Please, have pity."

She tilts her head a little, studying him. "These are the shadows of your past. That they are what they are, do not blame me."

But she steps away from the windows to the house.

"Let us see another Christmas," she says, and takes his hand again.

Logan wants to say something snarky, about how he doesn't deserve blame either, but he's not given a chance. Already, another scene unfolds:

It's a madhouse backstage, all the kids in their Victorian finest (except for the urchins - they looked grubby and tired, which was sort of the point) and wired from the standing ovation they'd received. Still, Logan picks out Lilly and Duncan immediately, and it wasn't just the top hat Lilly wore that made her taller than usual. The middle school play was been a great success, and Lilly was, as usual, taking all the credit.

"Dude, Duncan, I can't believe you stepped all over my line in that last scene. What was up with that?"

Duncan, looking quite dapper for his role as Scrooge's nephew, just laughs. "Shut up, Lilly. You were the one stealing the scene. Can you blame me for trying to take it back?"

Logan pushes through the crowd and gives both of them big hugs. "Man, you guys were great. Who'd a thought a girl Scrooge was a good idea?"

Lilly tosses her head, the top hat staying on thanks to some ingenious pinning. "Me, that's who. God, haven't you figured out I'm a genius yet?"

Veronica comes around the corner, camera in hand. "Smile, you guys!" she says, and snaps the picture before they have time to compose themselves into a posed picture.

"So, you bummed about turning down your big shot at stardom?" Duncan asks the girl, who makes a face at him.

"Are you kidding? I gave up a shot at playing Tiny Tim, not Lady Macbeth. I really doubt I'd get rich and famous because of that role. Being a 'Christmas child' was fine with me."

They're interrupted then by the arrival of two sets of parents - the Kanes and the Marses, who envelop their kids in hugs and praise (and flowers, in Lilly's case). Logan's left out, again, as his parents are at the premiere of Aaron's newest movie.

He watches them for a long moment before Mr. Kane suggests they go on to Amy's Ice Cream for the cast party and kindly offers Logan a ride. It's not necessary - he's got a driver - but he'd rather go with the Kanes.

"And do you remember this day?" the Spirit says, watching the figures leave the auditorium.

"I caught holy hell for that," he says, indirectly answering the question. "I forgot to call Jose, who called the cops. Whatever. I was 14."

The beating in question wasn't one he could have shrugged off at that age, but now? It's in the past, and he can pretend he's forgotten about it.

"I still miss that. What we had."

What he never had again. What he tried for far too long to hold onto, even when it became very clear that nothing he and Veronica could create could come close to what they had as a quartet.

That same slight tilt of her head.

"In those days, Logan, I wonder if you would even have been able to see me."

Logan frowns, confused. "Why do you say that, Spirit?"

"Because in those days, you were not trying so desperately to cling to the past, and to what is lost."

Logan opens his mouth to protest, then stops to think about it. "I don't know what else to hold onto," he says.

The past isn't much, when taken as a whole. It's a decidedly mixed bag, in fact, but the good parts? Were really damned good. And worth holding onto.

"You must find things."

She turns suddenly, as if looking into the distance at something he cannot see.

"My time grows short."

Logan nods. "It is time for the next ghost, huh?" The mocking notes he would have used to refer to the spirits is gone, replaced by resignation and something like respect.

"Almost."

She smiles very slightly.

"You should try to stop anticipating what will happen, when you meet my youngest brother. You do not know this story as well as you seem to think you do."

Logan scowls slightly at her. "So far, it seems pretty by-the-book."

Or movie, as the case may be.

Of course, it's quite different when it's your past you are faced with.

"You do not know the story as well as you think," she repeats, kindly, but not inviting argument.

And they're back on the beach, and she's beginning to fade.

Logan waves a hand in farewell, and she's gone.

And he's awake, on the beach, winded for no apparent reason.

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OOM: The ghost of Christmas past

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