How to Make a Swedish Goat

First, scrub out the sink. A dirty sink will give you dirty water which will stain your straw, so shove all the coffee grounds down the drain before you fill-up the basin. After you’ve rubbed the sink down with borax, fill the basin with warm water. Soak your straws for at least an hour—longer if you use black wheat. You’re using hard red spring wheat, so an hour should do.

While you wait for the straws to soften, turn on the light in the living room and sit down to finish embroidering the tablecloth that you’re making for your mother for Christmas. If you had known how much work this tablecloth would be, you would have started it in June, but you didn’t start it until after Thanksgiving, and now Christmas is a week away. Try not to hurry your stitches, and don’t waste the thread. Silk thread costs a little less nowadays but you don’t have the money to go out and buy another skein of silver silk embroidery floss.

The lamp in the living room has valves for adjusting the gas—it doesn’t take gas anymore, since Dad wired it for electricity. The lamp came from Aunt Nora’s house, but try not to think about that. It was twenty years ago that she turned on all the gas jets and poisoned herself and the baby while her husband was asleep in a bed across town. You never knew her. Don’t think about the fact that this lamp hung, unlit, over Nora’s dining room table, while she rested her head against the wood and waited. Just be thankful that no one uses gas lights anymore.

When your eyes start to get sore, put the embroidery away. Better to leave it unfinished than to strain and make mistakes. Turn on the radio. Adjust the dial until the crackling stops. Wait for a Cole Porter tune, one that reminds you of your beau, Jack. Close your eyes and remember the way his fingers brushed the front of your blouse the night before. Remember how he held you as you walked through the park, how the damp snowflakes clung to your hair as Jack unbuttoned your coat and slid his hands inside.

Your father doesn’t like Jack, but don’t accuse your father of hating Jack just because his family isn’t Swedish. Remember that your father is just trying to stand between you and heartache, and remember to remind Jack to come to the door when he comes to pick you up for a date. Your father hates it when Jack honks his horn, and you go running out the door to get into his car.

Light the candles under the chimes, and watch the brass angels spin on the currents of heat. Turn on the electric candelabras that light each of the windows, and plug in the lights on the Christmas tree. There are candles on the tree, held in place by metal clips, but don’t light the candles. Let Dad light the candles if he wants to. If a fire starts, trust him to put it out.

Don’t tell Jack you love him; not yet. Wait until he says you’re his best girl, or at least until after Christmas. That way, if he says he doesn’t feel the same way, it won’t ruin your holiday. And don’t let thoughts of Jack scroll through your mind all Christmas. When you go to church on Christmas Eve, listen to the scriptures, and pay attention to the story about Mary. And don’t recast yourself as Mary and Jack as Joseph and don’t daydream that he’ll stand bravely by your side and love you no matter what. That’s just stupid.

When the hour is up, lay the straw on a clean towel after you take it out of the sink. Plait two braids for the goat’s horns while the straw is still damp and pliable. Set aside. Bind thick bunches of straw for the body and the legs with red ribbon. Tie the horns to the snout with more red ribbon, curve the horns and bind the other ends around the neck with twine. Gather the heads to make the goat’s beard.

Be sure to finish the straw goat before your parents and sisters get home. Then get started on dinner. Keep in mind that the only reason Mother and Dad let you beg off going to visit Aunt Solveig was that you said you needed time to make the straw goat, so you better have it done before Dad’s Studebaker pulls into the driveway.

Don’t remind them that you hate going to Aunt Solveig’s house because that was the house that Aunt Nora lived in. The steep, narrow staircase with the naked bulb hanging above it, and the shadowy parlor with the grimy windows that face the alley make you shiver and search crevices for ghosts, but don’t mention it.

You’re sixteen, they’ll say. You should be over that by now.

Anyway, don’t forget that Dad was the one who found them—Aunt Nora slumped over the kitchen table, and the baby blue and cold in her cradle…but that was twenty years ago, four years before you. Dad doesn’t search for ghosts—he can see them, right down to their atoms, but that doesn’t stop him from visiting his other sister, so why should it stop you?

Stop thinking about Aunt Nora. And don’t think about Jack, either.

After Christmas, make sure to store the straw goat in a dry place so that it doesn’t get moldy like the one you made last year.

Remember what your grandmother told you when you were little, about the giant straw goat they built every year in her village. It was taller than her house and glowed hot and orange when they set fire to it on Christmas Eve.

When you’re finished, set the straw goat under the Christmas tree. Tune the radio to a radio station with talk instead of music, and take down a box of Creamette noodles from the cupboard. Beat eggs and grate an onion. Cut several cubes of cheddar cheese. Mix. Boil the noodles and fold them into the mixture when soft. Put the soufflé in the oven, and set the table.

Pour eight glasses of water—two for your parents, one for you and each of your sisters, and an extra one.

Take the soufflé out of the oven just as Dad’s Studebaker pulls into the driveway. Wait until he lights his pipe to tell him you invited Jack for dinner.

Author’s note: How to Make a Swedish Goat was originally published by Revolver in 2013. The editors at Revolver had great taste but stopped publishing in 2015.