On Christmas Eve

Alan was suddenly overwhelmed by sadness--sadness for the long barren stretches of Christmases past, for all lonely people and for all that was lost forever. Tears filled his eyes and he stifled a sob. When he spoke his voice cracked. "You look so much like--"

"Who, Alan?" Roger was looking at him with a peculiar intensity.

It was a moment before Alan could speak again. Finally he said, with an effort, "Another man named Roger. He died a long time ago." He looked at his companion. "I never knew my Roger-the other Roger, when he was young. But he must have looked like you."

By now the room was in semidarkness. Alan continued to gaze at the young man, who was now sitting up and looking back at him, unsmiling.

A fantastic thought rose in his mind.

"What if--"

"What, Alan?" Roger said softly.

Alan thought he must be crazy, but certainty was growing in him. "That clerk didn't say my name when I walked in. You knew who I was even though I've never met you. You know things about me no one could know now."

After a long moment, Roger spoke.

"Yes, Alan. It's me."

Alan stared. Terror rose in him, and a sudden sharp pain stabbed his chest. He felt dizzy, and began to gasp for air. "But why?" he managed to say.

No answer. Comprehension dawned. "Is it--time?"

Roger nodded.

Alan tried to stand, but his limbs would not obey him. Feebly he backed away to the end of the couch. "No...please," he gasped.

Roger did not pursue him. He said very quietly, "I can't force you to come, Alan. But I'm hoping you will. I've waited so long."

Alan continued to look at him through rapidly clouding eyes. Gradually his breathing became slower, less labored. A wave of fatigue passed over him. "Roger..." he murmured.

Roger stretched out his hand. "Alan, you're still the fine man I knew. You've lived a good life, and you're so tired. Come with me. I love you."

With the last of his failing strength Alan raised his own hand. Roger took it firmly. The pain increased to an unbearable intensity. His vision was filled with a blinding light. He opened his mouth and screamed Roger's name, but no sound came out.

Alan did not know how long it was before he was able to see again. At last, he opened his eyes and found that he and Roger were now both standing, facing each other. He looked down at himself. His body felt different, his shoulders filling out his shirt tightly. He released his grip on Roger's hand and stepped to a mirror hanging on the wall. He gasped as he saw the elegant young man, in the prime of health, staring back out of the glass. He wheeled around to Roger, who was looking at him, his face radiant.

Alan was possessed by a joy he had forgotten could exist on earth.

"But--I'm not on earth, am I?" he said out loud. His voice was strong and deep.

Roger shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "Not for much longer." He walked to Alan and put his arms around him, embracing him tightly. "Welcome, my love," he whispered in Alan's ear.

He gestured to the couch they had been sitting on a short time ago. "Take a last look, if you want."

Alan looked, and saw the still form of the old man he had been, the silver hair disheveled, the eyes closed, the upturned face peaceful. He turned to his love.

A small wave of anxiety rose in him, a last faint echo of the earthly care and strife he had left behind. "You'll stay with me, Roger?" he asked.

"Forever," Roger said calmly. He extended his hand again. "Time to go."

Alan took it. Together, the lovers stepped through the door (there was no need to open it) and into eternity.

END