by Drew Sera
“No! I like it and was going to ask you if you could get me one.”
“Of course. I can go after work.”
I retrieved my wallet and pulled out some twenties and handed it to her.
“Mr. Graves, they’re less than twenty dollars.”
When she wouldn’t take the money, I gently set it on her desk.
“The rest is for gas. Can you go get it this morning, please? I don’t want you having to use your own time for it.”
She nodded at me and collected her purse.
“Oh, would you get one for Colin too?”
“Of course.”
By the time I reached my office, I was in a better mood knowing I’d have a little tree soon. I concentrated hard all morning, but when Hannah came in carrying the two tiny Christmas trees, I stopped what I was doing.
“Ok, Mr. Graves. Which one would you like?” she asked.
I walked over to her and glanced at the two. One had red foil around the pot, while the other was silver. I reached out for the silver one and said that Colin could have the red one.
“Shall I leave his with you or do you want me to put it on his desk?”
“You can leave it with me for now, thank you, Hannah.”
I carried the two trees to the coffee table in front of the two sofas that sat in my conversational section of the office. They needed an ornament or something. I glanced around my minimalistic office and saw nothing that looked festive. I’d have to get creative.
On the computer, I downloaded pictures of a 49ERS football helmet and the 49ERS emblem. I printed them and took them downstairs to the print shop to have them laminated. I punched holes in them and used paper clips to attach the pictures to the tree. When I was finished, I carried Colin’s to his office and set it on his desk. He’d see it tomorrow morning when he’s back in the office.
After lunch, I was working on some numbers that Colin had emailed me about when his secretary came into my office. She set a flier quietly on my desk and turned to head out of the office as I said, “Thank you,” to her. I glanced down at the green paper and my eyes focused on “donations” and “hunger.” I stopped what I was doing and picked up the flier.
Everett Gaming’s Fill Socks and Stomachs Drive. Bring in a pair of new socks for the Las Vegas Shelter and stuff it with your donation for their food bank.
I smiled at it. I remember when Colin was toying around with the phrase “fill socks and stomachs.” Being hungry fucking sucks. Especially when you’re a kid. Though I suppose being hungry at any age sucks, but my only first-hand experience was being a child. My thoughts took me back to middle school…
My stomach was killing me. I’ve had this pain before. It was hunger pain mixed with other pain. I stumbled to my dresser and pulled on some sweatpants that were about two sizes too small for me and the cuffs barely stretched to my ankles.
I crept into the kitchen and sighed when I saw the pantry was padlocked. I was starving and thirsty. Even though the fridge was also chained and locked with a padlock, I could still open one side and slip my hand in. Kneeling down, I edged my arm inside and almost had my hand wrapped around an apple when the door slammed against my arm. Leaning against the refrigerator door was Bruce.
“Do locks mean anything to you, you little fuck?”
I frowned as I stared up at him with utter hate. My arm was trapped in the fridge by his weight, and it hurt, but I wasn’t going to let on that it did. He reached down and slapped me on the side of my head, hitting my sore ear. I remained quiet as he hit me. My head banged against the side of the fridge.
“What? Now you’re suddenly quiet?”
“Please stop, Bruce,” I begged, and before I could stop them, tears began running down my face.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that I cry easier when I’m hungry.
“Bitching like a little girl, Anthony!”
My fingers were numb and seemed swollen when I tried flexing them in the fridge.
“Mom!” I yelled.
Bruce slapped my ear again and laughed.
“You’re whore mother isn’t home to help your ass.”
“She’s not a whore!”
Bruce grabbed my free arm and held it away from me while he continued to lean on the fridge.
“She is. That’s how you were accidentally made. She’s on every guy in the place trying to earn a buck to feed you.”
Feed me?
“I’m not eating! You guys lock up the food! I’m so hungry that it hurts!” I yelled.
“Do you ever stop bitching like a little girl?”
“Please, Bruce. I’m hungry.”
“How hungry?”
Fucking asshole. I didn’t care anymore what Bruce did to me. I was desperate for food. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the fridge.
“Do whatever you want. I’m hungry and need food.”
He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back so that I was looking at him.
“I’ll do whatever I fucking want, with or without your damn permission.”
And I knew he would. Hours later I found myself on the floor of my room naked, sore and with that disgusting taste in my mouth. I sat up and leaned against the side of my bed and looked at the clock. I only had a few hours before school. I grabbed clean clothes and headed to the bathroom to get ready. My arm was already black and blue where it had been lodged in the door of the refrigerator.
After I was dressed for school, I quietly gathered my backpack and headed out. My body ached, and the pain in my stomach was horrible. I didn’t know if it was hunger or something else.
Out of desperation, I went to the cafeteria. I didn’t have any money to buy breakfast, so I strategically sat near the trash can and would intercept anything. I spotted a group of girls walking towards the trash can; all with their hands full of unopened containers from breakfast. Girls were my best option. It was middle school and many girls were afraid to eat too much, so if I paid attention, I could get their leftovers. Boys on the other hand typically ate all of their food.
I noticed one of the girls was in my math class and she smiled at me.
“Hi, Anthony,” she said.
“Hi,” I said and held my breath as she neared the trash can.
She had an apple!
“If you are going to throw your apple away, may I have it please?”
“Yeah, sure.” She held the apple out, and I tried not to appear too anxious to get my hands on it. “See you in class.” She tossed the rest of her containers in the trash and as they walked away, I glanced at what was thrown away.
One of the girls tossed out an unopened applesauce cup. It was just sitting there on the top. I glanced around; the kids that were here were all talking with their friends. I let my arm drape over the edge of the table, and when I was sure the coast was clear, I snatched the applesauce cup.
I was feeling pretty good about my acquisitions this morning. I was hungry enough that I could easily eat everything in minutes, but I needed to pace myself. I had lunch and dinner sitting in front of me.
Gold mine! Another girl tossed an unopened cereal container in the trash with her banana peel. I pulled the cereal container out of the trash. I had a day’s worth of meals in front of me. Smiling, I gazed around to see if I could possibly score something else when my eyes connected with the janitor. My smile quickly faded as I became aware that he had been watching me.
Fuck.
I looked down at my collection and then risked a peek at him. He had left his post, and my eyes found him walking from the giant fridge where all the drinks were kept.
Fuck! He was walking towards me. I debated on throwing away the treats I had confiscated. Would I get in trouble? Those girls were just throwing it away. It wasn’t like I took anything from them. That was going to be my defense.
The janitor set a carton of milk, orange juice, and a plastic spoon down in front of me and smiled. He didn’t say anything. He just set it down and continued on with his business. I to
re into the cereal and shoveled it into my mouth quickly. I chased it all with my juice just in time for the first bell. I wiped off the spoon with a napkin and stuffed it in my backpack with the applesauce and apple.
For the first time in a long time, I went to class with food in my stomach. And before the end of my first class, I was in the bathroom getting sick. Maybe I ate too fast. At lunch, I hadn’t taken the applesauce out of my backpack, instead, I sat near the trash can and waited. I collected another apple and a bag of chips. I lingered a little too long, and before the bell rang, the janitor approached me.
“You’re not getting enough to eat at home, are you?”
I stared at him, afraid to answer. If I were honest, Bruce and my mom would hear about it, and I’d be beaten, or worse.
“Um, I’m just a bottomless pit.”
He laughed as he looked at me. Could he tell I was lying?
“For being a growing, thirteen-year-old bottomless pit, I’ve never seen you buy lunch or bring your own food.” I looked away and started to stand, but he reached out and set his hand on my arm that had been smashed in the fridge. It startled me, and I jumped. “Money tight at home?”
“Sort of.”
“No shame in that. It’s not your fault. Tell you what, if you help me set the tables and chairs up for breakfast and clean them up after lunch, I will make sure you have breakfast and lunch. Deal?”
He offered his hand to me, and I considered it. Could I trust him? I had absolutely nothing to lose, so I shook it.
“Deal. Thank you.”
After lunch, while I was helping clean up the tables, Connor walked through the lunchroom as he usually did. He spotted me, and I could hear him ask the janitor if I was helping because I was in trouble. I went back to concentrate on cleaning when I saw the janitor shake his head.
I knew the account where Colin always kept the funds for anything he collected for charities. I pulled up the wiring instructions and made a print copy of them. I was capable of donating.
Chapter Twenty-Three
December 2005
I was pleased with the way things went in Reno, and I think we can make the numbers work for Caesars. Anthony and I had coffee in the atrium this morning and discussed the deal further. He fed me the numbers I wanted right away yesterday, and it was a big help.
When I got to my office, a small Christmas tree caught my eye. Sitting on the edge of my desk was a tiny tree in a foil wrapped pot. As I rounded my desk and pulled out my chair, I noticed the San Francisco 49ERS ornaments dangling from a few branches. I knew this was from Anthony, or that he at least had his hand in this.
What was it with Anthony and Christmas trees?
Enough of him being vague about this. I was merely curious, and after all, we’re best friends and co-topping partners. I headed to his office, shut his door behind me and sat down in front of his desk. I glanced at his silver foil wrapped tree with the same football ornaments.
“Thanks for the tree, Anth.”
“You like it? I figured you’d like the color foil, so I kept the silver one.”
He was very animated as he spoke. He mentioned how his secretary had one and he sent her out yesterday to get us our trees.
“I thought it would brighten up your office, Col,” he said.
I tilted my head back and laughed.
“That’s funny, coming from a guy whose office looks baron.” Anthony laughed, but looked around and then nodded. “Seriously, Anth. You’ve been here for almost nine years,” I said gently.
His demeanor changed, and he looked back down at his desk. Anthony’s office was so clean and minimalistic that unless you knew he occupied this office, you’d think it was vacant. There was nothing personal in here at all. Except for the orange ball we toss around.
“I have a functional office.”
“I like my tree, thank you. And I love the ornaments.”
He was back to smiling again and nodding. Now was my only window to get some info.
“What’s with you and Christmas trees, Anth?”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, focusing on the little tree.
“Nothing really. I just like it.”
“Anth, this—” I pointed to the tree with laminated ornaments. “This is different than someone saying ‘hey, I thought your office could use some decorations.’ You printed these, laminated them and took the time to bend fucking paperclips to put it on the tree. So, I call bullshit.”
He raised his eyebrows at me but sat quietly.
“I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like the tree. I didn’t know it would bring on an inquisition. You can put the tree in my baron office.”
“I’m just trying to understand what the thing is with you and the trees. You took one of these little trees up to your cabin. Each time you go, you take new soil for it. You had a drip line built into your cabin so the little rubber hose would be sure to water it. That tree means something to you. And so does this one.” I paused hoping he’d say something. He’s so private, and maybe it’s just because he’s had so few friends who genuinely care. “Anthony, we’re like brothers. We’ve had each other’s back and have shared women for years.” I hoped that would get a reaction. It has in the past. I honestly felt that the “brothers” card was my best shot.
I shook my head and got up. I wasn’t going to leave his office with him thinking I was angry. I was frustrated that he didn’t trust me with this little piece of him, but I wasn’t going to hold a grudge against him over this. He had his reasons…whatever they were. I knew better; he’d talk when he was ready and wanted to. Pushing Anthony to talk about something never got me anywhere. I just have to be patient. He’ll talk when he’s ready.
“Want to go to lunch today?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
I nodded and headed out of his office.
Hours later we were seated at a table waiting for lunch when out of the blue, Anthony started talking.
“I don’t mean to blow you off, Colin. I’m just a very private guy. You know that.”
“I do. And I don’t mean to pry or push around in your business.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a sip of his Coke and looked around the restaurant before leaning his forearms on the table. “My dad loved Christmas trees.”
I nodded and gave him my undivided attention. He was talking! I didn’t know Anthony when his dad died, but accordingly to Blake, he took it hard and struggled a lot afterward. He seemed locked up now and grew quiet. I tried prompting him, hoping it’d help and not make it worse.
“Was he in horticulture?” I asked.
“No, nothing like that. I…I didn’t live with him until my senior year of high school. And my first Christmas with him was extra special. He took me out, and we picked out a Christmas tree together. I remember it like yesterday…we walked up and down the aisles of trees. He’d feel the pine needles to see if they were dry or rubbery. He’d look under the tree for needles that had fallen off. Anything he could do to assess a tree, he did it. And he talked to me about it as we went. He taught me how to drill holes in the bottom of the trunk before putting it in the stand and to put boiling water in it first. We picked out the lights each year for it and put the ornaments on. It was very special to me; the time he took with me. No one had ever taken time like that to show me anything. So, since my senior year until he died, picking out a Christmas tree was our thing.”
“Sounds really special, Anth,” I said.
“It was…and I never told him how much it meant to me.”
“He knows, Anth.”
He looked at me with unsure eyes. His gray eyes seemed to have a sheen to them: tears perhaps. I was glimpsing at a rare side of Anthony.
“The first Christmas that I was without him, I felt like I needed a tree.”
“Kind of like, if you had the tree, you wouldn’t be alone. Since the tree was a special thing between the two of you, he’d be with you,” I said.
As I
said it, it hit me like lightning; he still ached for his dad. I saw him swallow and then take a long sip of water. He set the glass down and nodded.
“I tried finding a tree on Christmas Eve and couldn’t. But after giving up, I stopped at a convenience store on the way home. They had trees just like the ones on our desks. I took it home and tried decorating it.” Anthony laughed and looked away. “I used paperclips back then too.” I laughed at his paperclip ornament hooks. “Day after Christmas, I went to the nursey and got a decent pot for it, plant food and soil.”
“Is that tree the one you took to your cabin?” I asked.
He nodded.
“When I saw a tree just like it at Hannah’s desk, I wanted one. It reminds me of the happiest time of my life; Christmas with my dad.”
I could see that he was getting wrung out by this conversation. This is by far the most open he’s been about anything in his past, especially regarding his dad. He began shoving bread from the bread basket in his mouth; I’m sure to settle his emotions down.
“Were you and your dad close, Anth?”
He looked up at me with sad eyes and shook his head. This, I didn’t understand, and I think Anthony picked up on my confusion. He shrugged, and I had a feeling the wall was going back up.
“I was seventeen when I moved in with him. Just, worlds apart.”
“He obviously loved you very much.”
Anthony nodded and went back to focusing on his bread. He looked nervous for whatever reason. I know he’s not used to opening up.
“Thanks for telling me about the tree thing. I will take good care of the tree.”
“I’ll remind you to water it,” he said.
“Thanks, Anth.”
That afternoon I was going over some figures for our annual holiday donation drive when something odd stuck out. I saw a large figure had been deposited into the account just this morning. The page I was looking at didn’t give me the specifics, so I had my secretary pull the wire details.
