Author's Note: "Grown-Up Christmas List" was already one of my favorite Christmas songs. Then my school's music director chose it for us to sing in chorus. One day I was reading Les Misérables in my lap while she worked with the other voice sections. Then it hit me: songfic! I'm dedicating this to my friends and classmates, MB and CM, who played Madame Thénardier and Eponine in the first production of Les Misérables that I ever saw, and sang this song in chorus with me. Merry Christmas!
"Adulte Noelle Liste"
I. The Bishop
Myriel, the Bishop of Digne – affectionately called Monsieur Bienvenu by those he ministered to – always held a midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Those who attended brought candles with them to light the church. First Bishop Myriel lit the candles in the sanctuary; then he held the tip of his candle to the tip of a churchgoer's, and the flame was passed on all around the church. It was a very symbolic moment, Myriel's sister thought. They shared light and love with each other, passing it on and on.
During the special intentions, the Bishop encouraged his congregation to pray for all the suffering people in the world. They prayed not only for those living in financial poverty, but also those plagued by the poverty of loneliness, all the heartbroken and unwanted. Bishop Myriel was sure he saw some people frown when he asked God to bless criminals and prostitutes and beggars, but they still said, "Amen," respectfully when he was finished.
They did not know that the Bishop had a particular convict in mind, whom he hoped enjoyed a candlelit Christmas as much as he did.
II. Jean Valjean
When he wasn't attending to his duties as mayor, the man known as Monsieur Madeleine liked to spend his evenings reading. One December, he obtained a book about the saints, and spent the night delicately turning the pages, reading by the light of candles in silver candlesticks.
Like Bishop Myriel, Saint Nicholas was exceedingly generous, always watching over the flock assigned to him.
He was also, Madeleine learned, the patron saint of thieves. Nicholas did not protect thieves from the law; rather, he protected them from themselves, and helped them turn their lives around.
This sounded almost eerily familiar to Madeleine.
It was by God's grace that he had been able to change his ways. But, he thought, perhaps Saint Nicholas had interceded for him as well.
He spent his Christmas Eves in a prayer vigil. On Christmas Day he liked to walk through the snow, dropping money into the cups of carolers, and seeing to it that no one was hungry or lonely on this holiday.
III. Fantine
Christmas was a lonely time for Fantine. She wished she could send money for Cosette to have a gift. It warmed Fantine's heart – even in the cold confines of her attic room – to imagine Cosette with Eponine and Azelma, leaving their shoes out for the fairy to fill.
Her heart ached for another person, who she tried not to dwell on. Still, the memory itself was sweet. Her Felix had given her a pendant for Christmas in 1814. Fantine had had no gift to give him in return, so she gave the only thing she had to offer – herself. Cosette was the result of this gift – no, in a way she was a gift, one that Felix had given Fantine.
Fantine closed her fist around the pendant at her neck. One day, Cosette, we'll celebrate Christmas together. One day I'll give you this necklace as a present. One day my heart will stop hurting. One day I'll feel love again.
IV. Cosette
Christmas was a quiet but happy celebration for Jean Valjean and Cosette. They went to Christmas Mass, and then stayed at home. They roasted chestnuts over a fire, lit the candles in the silver candlesticks, and talked about past Christmases. Cosette especially liked retelling their first Christmas together, the day Valjean fetched her from the Thénardiers.
"That was the first time I had ever been happy on Christmas," Cosette recalled. "It was the first time I had hope. I didn't feel alone or afraid anymore. Someone had come to save me." She remembered how frightened and lonely she used to be. Valjean was her first real friend.
Sometimes she wondered about Eponine and Azelma. They were lucky to be sisters; it was like having a built-in friend, who would always be there for you.
What about the baby – what was his name – Gavroche? He must be growing up, now. Cosette hoped he wasn't lonely; but she remembered that Madame Thénardier hadn't shown nearly as much love to Gavroche as she had to her daughters.
That night, she said a special Christmas prayer, for the Thénardier children. She put to rest any resentment she had felt toward Eponine and Azelma. She prayed for them, and for their brother Gavroche, and for anyone who felt as Cosette once had – hungry, alone, cold, and scared.
V. Eponine
Christmas used to be a happy day for the Thénardiers. Everything was clean and beautiful, the furniture having been polished by Cosette. Traveling performers and merchants set up booths in the town square. Eponine and Azelma left their shoes on the hearth, hoping the good fairy would leave gifts for them. Thinking back, Eponine could remember a beautiful kaleidoscope with the year 1823 engraved in it – her father had pawned it years later, in a vain attempts to pay off their debts.
Now, all the holiday meant was bitterly cold weather, and enviously watching cheerful passersby wrapped in warm coats.
The Thénadiers had never been the kind of family that would sing carols; but Eponine had heard guests at their inn sing together, and these days she heard people singing together on street corners. (These people were often targets for Monsieur Thénardier, who would try to appear poorer in front of them.) So Eponine had picked up a few songs.
She started to sing "Silent Night" softly to herself, as she walked down the lonely streets on Christmas Eve. Of course, it hardly sounded like music when she sang it with her raspy voice, but still, it felt good to sing. It was ironic, Eponine thought, having a song about silence. But she liked it. It wasn't obnoxious, it wasn't too cheerful for her. It was calm, and somehow wistful, more in tune with her own melancholy surroundings.
Eponine knew better than to hope for any kind of miracle or presents on Christmas. But she made a wish for herself then.
I need a friend.
Had she and Cosette ever been friends? Perhaps in the beginning, when they were three and two years old, and Azelma only one. The three girls had swung on that makeshift swing together. Perhaps there had been a time when Cosette had been their friend; but the illusion had been quickly lost. When Mme Thénardier mistreated Cosette, the sisters followed their mother's example, effectively destroying any friendship with the poor girl.
Later, Eponine would wonder if there was a God Who had, indeed, heard her wish – her prayer – and tried to answer it. That's what Marius seemed to her – an answered prayer.
For the first time in years, she had a friend.
For the first time in her life, she felt hope.