Type: fanfic
Title: Neal's Christmas
Author:
lauracollaredCharacters/Pairings: Neal; Young!Neal; Elizabeth; Peter; Mozzie. Non-canon: Neal's mom; Young!Neal's friend, Nate Silber.
Rating: Gen / PG
Summary: A little history of Neal and Christmas -- how he developed a unique tradition.
Author's Note: Many, many thanks to
elrhiarhodan for a most-helpful beta and encouragement. This is my first time writing Gen, writing for a "big" audience, and getting beta'd. So thanks, elrh! :) And thank you all for your feedback and concrit. I have no aims of becoming a prolific fic writer, but I hope you like this little story.
Disclaimer: Oh, Jeff Eastin and USA, how you own these character, and how I don't. Well, except for Nate Silber. He's mine. :p
Neal didn’t “do” Christmas in any traditional, American way. Not since he turned 12, that is, when he changed his tradition.
----
Presents ruined the holiday for him since he was a child. He had always gotten something from his mom, but it was never anything he actually wanted. As a child (and like every child), he hoped for big presents: like a firetruck or Hot Wheels or a train set. And he would get a sweater and socks instead.
Around the age of 8, he told his mom that all he really wanted was art supplies. He loved art projects at school, but had nothing to use at home to practice. He asked for clay to make little statues with, or cheap paints and brushes and paper. But instead of inexpensive art supplies, she still got him practical gifts: socks, sweaters, hats, mittens.
“Merry Christmas, Neal! I know it’s not what you wanted, but you really need these, so I hope you like them.” She would smile at him, her eyes a little sad. Even Neal at a young age could see that she seemed sad about the presents.
“I love them, Mom. Thank you.” and he would hug her.
He realized, even at that young age, that she got him those “gifts” because all she had money to spend on were things that Neal actually needed. He needed clothes that fit him and would keep him warm. So she would wrap them and give them on Christmas, because then at least Neal was getting something on the holiday. He wished he knew how to tell her that it just made him more sad to get practical clothing on Christmas. He would rather get nothing at all than see his mom try to trick him into thinking the clothes were really presents, and not just her responsibility to clothe him.
When he was 12, Neal got up the courage to tell his mom that he didn’t want anything on Christmas, that he would prefer she just gave him clothing when she had the money for it.
“Maybe we could get a small tree this year, and some lights to put on it? That would be nice. It would be fun to have a tree.” Neal told his mom, sheepishly, worried that she’d be upset.
“Really, Neal? You don’t want presents?” His mom asked, genuinely surprised.
“Really.” Neal said resolutely.
“Okay, then. We’ll do something other than presents... I just don’t know about a tree though....” she said nervously.
“Oh, well. Maybe we can go look at them and see what they cost?”
“Sure, sweetie....” she said hesitantly. “We can do that.”
But when they went to the local tree farm, Neal could see that his mother did not want to buy a tree. She just couldn’t bear the idea of spending money on a tree that wouldn’t last and would serve no purpose after a few days.
“Neal, I’m sorry. But I’ll get us some lights for the windows, okay? A tree.... it’s just too extravagant. I’m so sorry.”
Neal was disappointed, but smiled through it. “Sure, Mom. You pick out what you can afford.”
---
Neal and his mother lived in northern, New Jersey, in a cheap apartment. Neal was a shy, creative kid, who did his work as quickly as possible, so his teachers would let him doodle. He mostly stuck to himself, because the other kids teased him for wearing the same clothes so often. None of the kids were rich, but most had middle-class incomes, something Neal and his mother could only dream of since his father had left home, taking all the money with him.
Neal did have one really good friend, Nate Silber. Nate wasn’t popular with the other kids either. He was, to put it plainly, a huge nerd. He wasn’t artistic like Neal, but he would also finish his work as quickly as possible so that the teachers would let him read extra library books. They sat together in class, and Nate would tell Neal about the characters and plots, and often Neal would sketch them out from his own vision, even if there were pictures in the book.
“Don’t show me the picture! I bet I can draw him exactly as he looks, without even seeing the picture,” Neal would tell him, and he would.
The day after the trip to the tree farm, Neal was sullen and more quiet than usual. Although Nate was an emotionally out-of-touch 12-year-old boy, he could tell that something was off with Neal.
“Neal, what is wrong with you? Are you drawing a forest fire?” Nate asked, somewhat confused and surprised. Neal’s drawings were usually a little more uplifting and dreamy than that.
“Sort of. It’s a Christmas tree farm. It caught on fire,” Neal mumbled, under his breath so only Nate would hear. And he blushed.
“Uh... why?”
Neal just shrugged.
Nate went back to reading, and then a couple minutes later turned back and asked, “Do you have a tree this year, Neal?”
Neal continued to draw, didn’t look up, but shook his head side to side.
“Oh. Well. Me neither.” Nate said matter-of-factly.
Neal looked at him, somewhat shocked. “You don’t? Why?”
“I’m Jewish, stupid.”
“Oh, right. That was stupid. Sorry. Well, that’s different. You don’t have a tree cause you don’t celebrate Christmas. We don’t have a tree because....” and he trailed off.
Nate looked at him, and didn’t know what to say, so he went back to his book. But Neal could tell he was thinking, not reading.
“We have, like, five menorahs at my house. And tons of candles. Want one?” Nate asked all the sudden.
“Uh... what? We aren’t Jewish. And I wouldn't even know what to do.”
“Who cares? My mom says that Christmas and Chanukah are all about putting lights in our house during the dark time of the year anyway. She says all the ritual and present-giving is stupid. That’s why we don’t get presents on Chanukah.”
“You don’t?!”The teacher finally looked at them and shushed them.
“No. We eat the chocolate coins, and play dreidl. It’s not even a big holiday. We do presents on Passover. My parents are total hippies. They say it’s better to give presents to celebrate freedom.” Nate shrugged.
Neal stared at him. “That kinda cool actually.”
“Cool. So I’ll bring you one and some candles. I’ll have my mom type up what you do, how you light it. Okay?”
“Okay.” Neal smiled.
---
The next day, Neal brought home the menorah, candles, and instructions (plus chocolate gelt that was added as a surprise for him) from school, in a paper bag that was stapled shut on top. Nate’s mom had been smart enough to realize that Neal and Nate might get teased at school carrying a menorah and candles around.
He showed his mom, and she smiled and hugged him. That year, Chanukah started a few days before Christmas, and when it did, Neal and his mom followed the instructions to the letter, even sounding out the prayers in the transliteration provided by Mrs. Silber. And on Christmas day, when they lit the menorah, after saying all the Jewish prayers, they sang Christmas carols together and ate latkes.
----
2011
Neal was in his apartment on Christmas day setting up his menorah, a really pretty one he’d bought the first winter after getting out of prison. Latkes were frying, and he had Christmas carols on in the background.
Even after all these years, Neal didn’t do presents or a tree on Christmas. It was his way of honoring his childhood and his mom’s memory. There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!”
It was Peter and Elizabeth with wine and Christmas cookies. Elizabeth went to check on the frying latkes, and Peter uncorked the wine. A few minutes later Mozzie arrived (without knocking, of course) with more wine and
sufganiyot.
“Thanks for coming, you guys.” Neal smiled. Mozzie was well-versed in Neal’s personal Chrismukkah tradition, but Peter and El weren’t yet. So Neal, in brief, told them about his tradition -- he had told them in advance that no presents other than food and drink were allowed, and they had agreed.
They lit the candles together, said the prayers (Neal walking them through the Hebrew), ate the gourmet latkes and jelly donuts, and sang carols together (loudly and cheesily, as they drank more and more wine).
Around his sixth glass of wine, Neal was sufficiently drunk and offered up a toast. “To my best friends for joining me this Chrismukkah. And to my mom and Nate Silber, for showing me how to really celebrate and appreciate this holiday for all that it can be.”