Thinking back on it, Martha would have sworn she could remember being there in the room, a little girl, watching their mother pack it away. Carol had said the same thing, yet here they were, she with the structural half of the nativity, Carol with the figurines.
“So what do we do?” Carol said. “You know Mom did this on purpose.” Shortly before her death, their mother had sent one box to each of them, both of which simply read “Nativity”. Now, in addition to going through the rest of her things, they had decided to work out what had happened.
Martha looked at the two flaps kind of popping up toward them. It was apparent the words had been written at precisely the same time, in the same brand new fat black Sharpie, and probably for the exact reason Carol was accusing their mother of now. “Well, it’s obvious she wanted this to happen,” she said. “I say we ship it to Ellen and be done with it.”
“If we did that, we’d never see it again.”
“You have a better idea?”
Carol shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want to put it up, I’d just assume that I—”
“Oh there it is.”
“What?”
“I only suggested we give it to Ellen so we wouldn’t start arguing about it. You know how much I always loved this thing. Of course I want to put it up!”
“Well, so do I.”
“And here we are.”
They sat for several moments, Martha playing with the packing material poking out of her own box while Carol adjusted one of the wise men precariously tilting out of hers.
Carol said, “You think Mom told her about this?”
“Are you kidding? They probably laughed their heads off. ‘You know your sisters, Ellen. They’ll probably send it all to you just to avoid talking to each other.’”
“And then Ellen was probably like, ‘But Mommy, what if they fight over it and it’s ruined?’”
“And by then Mom would regret ever saying anything.”
They both laughed.
Martha said, “We could take turns.”
Carol’s eyebrows went up. “I’m listening.”
“I take it one year, you take it the next. Simple as that.”
Carol considered it for a moment, then said, “So how do we decide who gets it this year?”
Martha shrugged, “We flip a coin.”
Without hesitation, Carol stretched over, fishing a small pouch out of her purse. After digging out a quarter, she said, “You call it.”
Carol flipped the coin into the air, and Martha shouted, “Heads!” before it fell onto the carpet and bounced between them.
“Heads it is,” Carol said, appearing only slightly disappointed as she replaced the quarter and put the pouch away. “So you keep it through the holidays…”
“And then I’ll get it to you in time for next year,” Martha said. “Or you can come get it when you’re ready.”
Carol smiled now. “It’s better than Ellen getting her hands on it.”
“Imagine her face when she sees it in my Christmas pictures this year,” Martha said.
“We should put it up and send her a pic of the two of us right now.”
At that, Martha felt almost scandalous.
“But we need wine,” Carol said.
“Absolutely.”