The Fourth Magi

The light filtered in through the window at the end of the upstairs hallway and illuminated only the door to the other bedroom, the boy’s room. Elmer hadn’t opened that door for at least a year, but the illuminated door seemed to beckon to him. He stood in front of the door for a full minute before putting a hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and turned the key. The door opened easily, to a time long gone. The room was filled with personality, unlike any other room in the house. A few trophies gleamed on a shelf, paint-by-number paintings were framed and hung on the walls, a collection of handmade objects was carefully arranged on the dresser, including a popsicle-stick birdhouse, and a row of Hardy Boys mystery books lined the shelf above the bed’s headboard. Elmer looked around the room, avoiding the photos displayed in frames, and bit his bottom lip. He backed quietly out of the room and shut the door.

It was partly due to his visit to the room and partly the fault of Peter Jennings that Elmer drank more than his customary six-pack of beer that evening. His reaction to the room was forgivable. Jennings’ special report on a proposed new trade agreement between Mexico and the United States was not.

Elmer switched off the television in disgust and went into the kitchen. The cat followed. Elmer was reaching into the refrigerator for another bottle of beer, too upset to eat anything, and was about to tell the damn ugly cat that he wasn’t getting another damn thing to eat for the rest of the damn day, when the front doorbell rang. Elmer straightened up in surprise. Nobody ever came to his front door and even the rare delivery person or meter reader knew to come to the kitchen door. He suspected Jehovah Witnesses, or Boy Scouts selling Christmas trees. By the time Elmer got the front door deadbolt unlocked and opened the door, all he saw were taillights turning onto the road and speeding away. Then he saw the box sitting on his front porch. What in the hell…?

The cardboard box was open at the top and wrapped in Christmas paper, and it was crammed full, with a frozen turkey perched on top of the pile of contents. Elmer glared at it. He walked around the box looking for a tag or any sort of written explanation. He nudged the box with his foot in case it contained a bomb. Then he stooped and grunted as he picked up the box and wrestled it through the front hallway and onto the kitchen table. He stepped back and regarded it suspiciously again. It was clearly a box meant for “poor people” and Elmer was livid. He twisted the cap off another bottle of beer and began to unpack the box, hoping to find some identifying clue hidden in the contents. Ugly sat on a kitchen chair and supervised the process.