The Corrections

vegetables, under-excited by television and computer games, and skilled at cheerfully answering questions like “Are you loving school?” In St. Jude he was luxuriating in the undivided attention of three adults. He declared St. Jude the nicest place he’d ever been. From the back seat of the Oldfolksmobile, his elfin eyes wide, he marveled at everything Enid showed him.
    “It’s so easy to park here!
    “No traffic!
    “The Transport Museum is better than any museums we have, Dad, don’t you agree?
    “I love the legroom in this car. I think this is the nicest car I’ve ever ridden in.
    “All the stores are so close and handy!”
    That night, after they’d returned from the museum and Gary had gone out and done more shopping, Enid served stuffed pork chops and a chocolate birthday cake. Jonah was dreamily eating ice cream when she asked him if he might like to come and have Christmas in St. Jude.
    “I would love that,” Jonah said, his eyelids drooping with satiety.
    “You could have sugar cookies, and eggnog, and help us decorate the tree,” Enid said. “It’ll probably snow, so you can go sledding. And, Jonah, there’s a wonderful light show every year at Waindell Park, it’s called Christmasland, they have the whole park lit up—”
    “Mother, it’s March,” Gary said.
    “Can we come at Christmas?” Jonah asked him.
    “We’ll come again very soon,” Gary said. “I don’t know about Christmas.”
    “I think Jonah would love it,” Enid said.
    “I would completely love it,” Jonah said, hoisting another spoonload of ice cream. “I think it might turn out to be the best Christmas I ever had.”
    “I think so, too,” Enid said.
    “It’s March,” Gary said. “We don’t talk about Christmas in March. Remember? We don’t talk about it in June or August, either. Remember?”
    “Well,” Alfred said, standing up from the table. “I am going to bed.”
    “St. Jude gets my vote for Christmas,” Jonah said.
    Enlisting Jonah directly in her campaign, exploiting a little boy for leverage, seemed to Gary a low trick on Enid’s part. After he’d put Jonah to bed, he told his mother that Christmas ought to be the last of her worries.
    “Dad can’t even install a light switch,” he said. “And now you’ve got a leak upstairs, you’ve got water coming in around the chimney—”
    “I love this house,” Enid said from the kitchen sink,where she was scrubbing the pork-chop pan. “Dad just needs to work a little on his attitude.”
    “He needs shock treatments or medication,” Gary said. “And if you want to dedicate your life to being his servant, that’s your choice. If you want to live in an old house with a lot of problems, and try to keep everything just the way you like it, that’s fine, too. If you want to wear yourself out trying to do both, be my guest. Just don’t ask me to make Christmas plans in March so you can feel OK about it all.”
    Enid upended the pork-chop pan on the counter beside the overloaded drainer. Gary knew he ought to pick up a towel, but the jumble of wet pans and platters and utensils from his birthday dinner made him weary; to dry them seemed a task as Sisyphean as to repair the things wrong with his parents’ house. The only way to avoid despair was not to involve himself at all.
    He poured a smallish brandy nightcap while Enid, with unhappy stabbing motions, scraped waterlogged food scraps from the bottom of the sink.
    “What do you think I should do?” she said.
    “Sell the house,” Gary said. “Call a realtor tomorrow.”
    “And move into some cramped, modern condominium?” Enid shook the repulsive wet scraps from her hand into the trash. “When I have to go out for the day, Dave and Mary Beth invite Dad over for lunch. He loves that, and I feel so comfortable knowing he’s with them. Last fall he was out planting a new yew, and he couldn’t get the old stump out, and Joe Person came over with a pickax and the two of them worked all afternoon together.”
    “He shouldn’t be planting yews,” Gary said, regretting already the smallness of his initial pour. “He shouldn’t be using a pickax. The man can hardly stand up.”
    “Gary, I know we can’t be here forever. But I want to have one last really nice family Christmas here. And I want—”
    “Would you consider moving if we had that Christmas?”
    New hope sweetened Enid’s expression. “Would you and Caroline consider coming?”
    “I can’t make any promises,”