Home For Christmas

2. Coming Home

      Malcolm was unable to book any hotels, despite his best efforts. Even the great MVP of major league baseball couldn't convince people to offer a few rooms, even if he paid triple the price for them. There was no hope getting anything over the holidays, every place in town had been booked for weeks. They had no choice; they were all going to have to stay at Dad's house for the service and the funeral. Kim seemed to be the only one okay with this but the boys decided to put up with it just to appease their sister who was taking the old man's passing much harder than the other three were. The brothers cared about their sister so they decided to put up with the house for her and the kids.

      Malcolm caught the first flight over, beating his sister and brothers by at least a day. When he arrived to the house, things were all over the place. He picked up the few days worth of mail that had arrived, cleaned up whatever mess his father had left behind and even aired the place out a bit aware that a body was found not that long ago. As he was walking around, nothing seemed out of place. As he strolled into the living room there was something he couldn't help but notice.

      "Less than a week from the holidays and he's got no tree set up." Malcolm said to himself as it was interesting. His father loved the holiday but he could understand someone not bothering to even try if there was no one else to share it with. He hadn't put up a tree in almost a decade and he laughed at the thought that his old man might have crossed over to his side and turned into an atheist too. Not bloody likely, Malcolm thought to himself as he noticed the god cross that was still up on the wall. He strolled over to it and while he was tempted to toss it into the trash, Malcolm aired on the side of caution since his sister and brothers might notice it was gone. There would be plenty of time to toss out the old man's junk later when the house was sold.

      When the house was clean enough to his liking, Malcolm walked back into the dining room and set up shop. He whipped out two laptop computers, and put a box of unmarked finals onto the table. Once the laptops were fired up and connected to the internet, Malcolm spent the better part of the next several hours marking exams and doing his job. His laptop was connected to the university server so he would be able to get all his marks in on time so students wouldn't have to spend their holiday worrying about a course that was late being graded. Unlike most professors, not even a death in the family would stop him from getting shit done on time. Moments later there was a loud knock on the door. Malcolm tossed his glasses onto the table and walked slowly to the main door where the sound came from. When he opened the main door, there was a uniformed police officer standing there.

      "Can I help you?" Malcolm asked.

      "We had reports of someone being in the house." The officer said, "Can you tell me who you are and what you're doing here?"

      "Of course," Malcolm said as he wasn't upset by the questions. The house's only occupant was dead and they were making sure someone wasn't squatting. "I'm Professor Malcolm Jackson. I'm in town to attend the funeral, toss out all his junk and then put the house up for sale."

      "You're related to the deceased?" The officer asked.

      "He was my father." Malcolm answered. "My brothers and sister are on their way. We'll all be staying here because not a single hotel has a room available."

      "That's normal," the officer said as he took notes, "A lot of people come back from all over the country to visit family."

      "Not me." Malcolm chided back, "Once I finish my business here, I'm heading back to campus on the east coast and you'll never see me again. No offence."

      "None taken," the officer replied as he put the notepad away, "Thanks for your time and I'm sorry about your loss."

      "I'm not." Malcolm replied and closed the door without further explanation. He strolled back into the living room and resumed grading. He only had fifty more to go. Once they were finished, then he would be able to really get back to the work he really wanted to do. He paused for a moment and looked around trying to remember where the liqueur cabinet was. While he considered looking around for it, good judgement got the better of him. His brothers and Kimmy would be there tomorrow and he needed to get as much work done as possible before that could happen. There were eight children between the three of them and the house was going to be a circus. He had already called ahead to the funeral home and confirmed all the details. No one would have to do anything regarding Dad's services. Malcolm knew the others, especially Kim, would have a more difficult time doing it so he stepped forward and took care of it all for them. He didn't have to worry about paying for it. Their father has a life insurance policy that kicked in the moment he died so it was all covered. An unexpected benefit but Malcolm was not one to take a gift horse in the mouth. He consulted his watch to see it was now eleven in at night. He glanced over at large picture of his parents that seemed to be looking down at him.

      "Don't look at me like that," he called out to the parents of Christmas past, "I inherited this damn work ethic from you. Say what you want about me and what I stand for, at least I'm not a slacker. I work hard to earn every damn penny I make and I'm the guy who's educating the scholars of tomorrow. I was asked to lecture at Oxford next summer. Yes, that Oxford. Is that school Ivy League enough for ya, you old bastard?"

      Malcolm stopped talking as he realized that his words were spoken in vain. No one was listening so he might as well get back to marking his exams. They weren't going to mark themselves and he needed to get them done by morning. There was no way he'd ever get any more work done after that when the bleeding hearts showed up. That much he was certain of.