by J. J. Murray
Hope nodded. “Yes.”
“He’ll love it,” Joy said. “When you do something for love, love always comes back to you.”
Hope nodded. “Thanks again. Merry Christmas.”
Though the wind stung her ears, Hope walked briskly down Washington Avenue to the Brooklyn Museum, where she caught a cab with a single wave.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.
A chivalrous driver? “Macy’s on Fulton,” Hope said.
“You sure?” the driver said. “The one in Manhattan is much nicer.”
“I’m a Brooklyn girl,” she said, “and isn’t the one on Thirty-fourth Street packed with tourists today?”
“You’re right,” the driver said. “Macy’s on Fulton it is.”
Ten minutes later, Hope was inside arguably the dingiest, darkest, draftiest Macy’s on earth, but despite the holiday, it wasn’t very crowded. As she navigated the cosmetics section, she heard sales staff calling out to women rushing by and then talking badly about them when they wouldn’t stop at their counter.
“You see her turkey neck? Oh my Gaw-ud, she couldn’t hide that nose unless she had it cut off and buried!”
This should not be allowed to happen at any time, especially on Christmas Eve.
Hope stopped and stared at one saleswoman who had called out to her. “Do I look as if I need your product?” Hope asked.
The saleswoman shook her head.
“Then why are you yelling at me?” Hope asked.
The saleswoman took a step back from the glass counter. “It’s, uh, my job, to, um, to—”
“To be mean and rude?” Hope interrupted. “I heard what you said about that woman. She was Italian, or didn’t you notice?”
“I, uh . . .”
“She was born with that nose, and she wears it with pride,” Hope said. “What are you going to say about me when I walk on?”
The other saleswomen had quieted.
“Um, nothing, actually,” the saleswoman said. “You have flawless skin.”
“Merci,” Hope said. “But you’re missing the point. What if I didn’t?” She whirled and gave the other saleswomen the cut-eye. “Yuh bes’ nuh talk ’bout me when me leave, nuh.”
Hope walked on.
In silence.
I am Island woman, hear me roar.
She found a silver-and-gold stainless steel watchband for Dylan’s watch easily, and it was on sale, but she could find no one to ring her up. Three saleswomen lounged and chatted near a display for some gaudy, overpriced handbag obviously no one was buying this year.
Before Hope could even speak, two of the three saleswomen held up fingers. The third seemed to smirk.
You want me to wait? You’re not busy. Do I go Island on them, or do I embarrass them? I need this purchase. I’m on a tight schedule and I have a man to surprise soon. If I go Island, I may end up cuffing them all.
Hope smiled. “Je voudrais acheter ce bracelet de montre,” she said sweetly.
The smirking woman blinked. “Do you speak any English?”
I’m speaking American just fine. “Yes,” Hope said without a trace of an accent. “Will one of you please ring me up?”
The smirking woman stopped smirking, scowling instead. “Come on,” she said.
Hope followed the woman to the register and handed the woman the watchband and her debit card. “Merci de faire votre travail,” she said.
The woman looked up. “What did you say?”
“I thanked you for doing your job,” Hope said.
The woman scanned her card and bagged the watchband. “What are you, some kind of an interpreter?”
Hope took her card and the bag. “Non, je suis un américain.”
“What?” she said.
Hope shook her head. “I’m an American.”
“Did you ever think you might be confusing people a little by switching back and forth like that?” she asked.
“It’s about as confusing as watching three workers not work on Christmas Eve, don’t you think?” Hope smiled. “Joyeux Noël.”
After spending ten minutes getting the watchband wrapped in a small box, Hope took another cab, this time to 1001 Flatbush.
I have the sign in my pocket, but I have no tape.
She went around the corner to Staples, but when she went inside, she walked back out immediately.
One cashier on Christmas Eve? One? Are they insane? I’d be waiting an hour to get a roll of tape! Whatever happened to good old-fashioned customer service? No wonder people hate the holidays.
She opened the door to Dylan’s dream, closing it behind her. Brr. Mr. Vacca was right about the furnace. I wonder where the controls are. She took out the present and borrowed a few slivers of tape from the wrapping paper, centering the “Art for Kids’ Sake” sign in the window.
Now all I have to do is get him here.
Without a phone.
I need to get a cell phone. I now have people to call!
This surprise is turning into a surprise to me, too.
She left the building, locking the door behind her. She looked up and down the street for a pay phone. I know I’ve seen one today. Wasn’t there one in front of Staples?
She rushed around the corner at Tilden and picked up the receiver carefully, holding it away from her ear.
I have no change.
She hung up the phone and crossed the street to Rainbow, a clothing shop, and stood in line to ask the cashier for change. As she waited, she looked at the outfits around her. This store is perfect for women like me. These are some nice clothes! Look at all the colors! I would look so good in that top, and the prices are incredible! Oh, I love that—
“Ma’am?”
This line moved fast. Dylan will bring me here. There is a whole new wardrobe waiting here for me. “May I have some change? For the pay phone.”
“Local call?” the girl asked.
“Yes.”
She pointed to a phone at the end of the counter. “Go ahead.”
Hope squinted. “Really?”
The girl nodded. “You calling to ask him if you can spend more of his money?”
What a great idea! “Yes. Thank you.”
She dialed the Kinderstuff number, which rang and rang before she heard a message: “This Kinderstuff location will be closed until Monday . . .” She dialed Dylan’s cell number.
“Hello, sexy,” Dylan said.
Hope looked at the lingerie section. Those bras are so sexy. “Where are you?”
“Working,” Dylan said. “What’s up?”
“I need you to meet me at Rainbow on the corner of Tilden and Flatbush as soon as you get off,” Hope said.
“I know where it is,” Dylan said. “Are you going to let me buy you new clothes? I’ve already looked around that store a couple of times for you, but when you said you didn’t need anything . . .”
He’s already been here shopping for me? There is a God! “I’ll let you.” Just not today. “Get here quick.” She looked at the front window. “They close at three today.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Dylan said. “I have some major cleaning up to do around here.”
“Please hurry!”
“I’ll try. Bye.”
Hope hung up. “Thank you,” she said to the cashier, and then she browsed the store.
Or, maybe, the store browsed Hope Warren.
Everything she looked at, felt, and held up to her body thrilled her. Tie-dyed surplices, floral tube dresses, rugby racer-back stripe dresses, skinny jeans, belted chiffon dresses, lacy tank tops, hachi sweaters, suede boots, ballet flats, kitten heeled slings, belts, bags, and even a simple straw fedora talked to her, beckoned to her.
She checked a clock. It’s two o’clock already? He should be here by now.
She left Rainbow and walked up Flatbush to McDonald’s, hoping to run into him along the way. Not wanting to wait twenty minutes for a large fry and a Coke, Hope continued up Flatbush looking for Dyla
n. She stopped in front of Bella Jewelry, staring at the diamond rings in the window.
A woman poked her head out the door. “You want to come inside and look? It’s cold out.”
Hope smiled. “Just window-shopping. Dreaming.”
“We’re having a sale,” she said.
“I don’t want to buy,” Hope said. “I want him to buy.” But mostly I want him to get here!
“What about earrings?” the woman asked.
Hope touched her earlobes. “They’re not pierced.”
“I have just the thing,” she said. “Come in.”
Hope looked up Flatbush past Linden Boulevard. “I’m waiting for someone. I don’t want to miss him.”
“I’ll come out to you then,” the woman said. A few minutes later, she reappeared in a heavy sweater holding some tiny gold bands. “They’re called ear cuffs.” She attached one to the cartilage of her own ear. “Fourteen-karat gold.”
“It won’t fall off?” Hope asked.
The woman handed her one. “Just pinch.”
Hope put one on, the cold metal giving her goose bumps.
“It almost matches your ring,” she said. “You might even consider two ear cuffs for each ear. Half off everything today.”
Hope looked at her reflection in the window. “How much?”
“Today, thirty for four.”
Hope sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I bought myself jewelry.” These ear cuffs make my exposed ears look very sexy, though. She handed the woman two twenties. “I’ll get four.”
“I’ll get them and your change,” the woman said.
Hope looked up Flatbush.
No Dylan.
Where is he?
The woman returned with a ten and helped Hope put the other three on her ears. “They really look good on you. I’m sure he’ll like them.”
Hope blinked.
“The man you’re looking for,” the woman said. “He’s running late, huh?”
Hope nodded.
“This is the best day for running late,” she said. “It might mean he’s planning a surprise for you.”
I’m the one who’s supposed to do the surprising today. “I hope so.”
“He’ll like them,” she said. “Just make sure he doesn’t accidentally swallow one. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Hope said.
She drifted down Flatbush, twisting her promise ring. I hope this ring isn’t another empty promise. I hope he isn’t getting cold feet. Only my feet are cold today. He had my feet burning up Saturday night. But maybe I scared him away. He saw how powerful I was. Maybe he liked the shy, skinny, hairy blind girl better. He could take care of her. This new short-haired Island girl is much too formidable for him.
No! Dylan can still take care of me. He loves me.
Hope returned to Rainbow and again asked to use the phone. She dialed Dylan’s cell, and it went straight to voice mail. “Dylan, hi. Where are you? I’m still here waiting at Rainbow, and they’re getting ready to close up. I hope everything’s okay. Please hurry.”
Hope watched the clock and Flatbush at the same time. “Come on, Dylan. Come on.”
Perhaps he found a better way to spend his holiday, Hope thought. Perhaps Marie surprised him with a visit. Old lovers do that. They like to drop in for the holidays. Old flames are still flames. They still burn hot. Dylan was probably Marie’s first love. It’s so hard to forget a first love, and—
“We’re closing, ma’am.”
Hope nodded at the cashier. “I guess he got lost.” She left Rainbow and stood under the Rainbow sign, staring across the street at Staples. Dylan is never lost. He knows every street in Brooklyn. Where is he?
She watched people trickling into and out Staples for the next half hour.
Maybe he saw what I look like and kept walking!
“No,” Hope whispered. “No. He would never do that.”
There he is!
Finally!
But why is he on Tilden instead of Flatbush? Where is he coming to me from?
Dylan dodged traffic across Tilden and stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets. “Sorry I’m late, Hope. Traffic was a nightmare. Hey, what happened—”
“Traffic?” Hope interrupted. “What traffic? Most people are inside getting ready for Santa. You see anyone out here on the street? Your watch stop or what?” Where is his watch? “Where is your watch? Did it fall off?”
Dylan wisely stepped back. “No, I, um . . . but what have you done—”
“Where is your watch?” Hope interrupted, her hand pointing at his wrist. “Did you lose it?”
Dylan wisely stepped to his left. “Sort of. Hope, I really like—”
“I knew that duct tape would die one day,” Hope interrupted, “and here I got you something for it.” She took the box from her coat pocket and tossed it to Dylan. “It’s an unbreakable watchband. What good it will do.”
Dylan took several quick breaths. “I gave my watch to Aniya. It’s wrapped and under her tree. She’ll get to open it tomorrow.”
“What?” Hope shouted.
“Dr. Mishra is letting her go home for a few hours tomorrow,” Dylan said. “Aniya’s counts are great. Hope, I have to tell you that you look—”
“Why’d you give her your watch?” Hope interrupted. “After all we already gave that child. Why’d you give her that watch?”
“I wanted to give it to Shayna, but I never got the chance,” Dylan said. “Those, um, clips in your ear are—”
“So I should give your watchband to Aniya then,” Hope interrupted.
“If you want to,” Dylan said. “We can drop it by her house right now. Are you all right?”
“Oh, now he asks!” Hope shouted.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you, but you keep—”
“No, I’m not all right,” Hope interrupted. “You’re three hours late, you don’t have the watch for the Christmas present I got you, and you haven’t said a thing about my hair!”
Dylan wisely counted to ten. “May I speak now?”
Hope turned away. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
“Okay, don’t listen then,” Dylan said. “I’ve been trying to compliment you, but you keep interrupting me. I really like your hair.”
Hope snapped her head to him. “Like it? You only like it?”
Dylan blinked. “It will take some getting used to, but it’s sexy. It makes your eyes even bigger and sexier. Even your head has a sexy shape, and those gold hoop-things in your ears are nice. Do you like your hair?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter now,” Hope said. “Where were you?”
Dylan stepped closer and reached for her hand.
Hope moved her hand out of reach.
“I love the sacrifice you made, Hope,” Dylan said softly, “and I hope to meet the little girl who wears your hair someday. I know I’ll recognize it.”
“How’d you know I didn’t cut it just to cut it? Eh? Eh? I could have just cut it to cut it. I could have had it cut because I was sick of it. I could have cut it just to please you, and you only like it.”
Dylan smiled. “I love it, Hope. Très sexy. I will run my fingers through it often. When you’re not as angry. Or even if you are.”
“Why were you late?” Hope asked, her lips quivering. “I didn’t know where you were, and I was so worried that . . .”
Dylan grabbed her hands. “That I wouldn’t show up? Hope Warren, I have far too much invested in you to ever walk away from you.”
“So where have you been?” Hope asked.
“It’s not easy to explain,” Dylan said, smiling. “In fact, it’s kind of funny.”
“What’s so funny?” Hope asked.
Dylan bit his lip. “Do you want your new hat now?”
“What?” Hope blinked. “What? You got me . . . a hat?”
Dylan winced. “Yeah.” He pulled a green, yellow, red, and black tam from his coat pocket. “Kik
i helped me pick it out for you.”
Oh my goodness! He got me a tam to hold my dreads! It would have looked so good, too! She took the tam and tried not to smile. This is so ridiculous. “Do you really like my hair?”
“I will miss washing your locks, but it will be easier getting to your ears.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “Aren’t we a pair? We’re the new Magi.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “The what?”
“It’s an old Christmas story I read as a kid,” Dylan said. “It was called ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ I always thought it was a silly story, but now life is imitating art.”
“Please explain,” Hope said.
Dylan looked around. “Can we walk somewhere? We’ve been drawing a crowd.”
Hope looked across at Staples, where several people stood and stared.
“I wasn’t that loud, was I?” Hope asked.
“The acoustics against this wall are excellent,” Dylan said.
I was loud. “Sure. Let’s walk up Flatbush.” To your dream.
They crossed Tilden.
“In the story,” Dylan said, “a woman cut her hair to buy a silver watch chain for her husband, but he had sold his silver watch, a family heirloom, to buy her some special combs to put in her hair. They were the Magi. They gave sacrificial gifts to each other.”
We are the Magi, and I haven’t even given him his dream yet!
“I’m sorry Rainbow was closed,” Dylan said. “We can come back after Christmas.”
“That’s okay.” There’s our oak tree. “Dylan, I have something to show you.” She stopped him at the tree. “Look around.”
Dylan looked around the tree. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”
I see the sign in the window perfectly from here. “And I used to be blind. Look!”
Dylan looked at the window and froze. “Is that . . .” His voice broke. He took a step. “Is this . . .” He took a few shaky steps to the window. “Hope.” He turned to her with tears in his eyes. “Did you . . .”
Oh, these are good tears I’m crying today! She took the key from her pocket. “I would have put it in a little box.”
“But . . .”
She put the key in his hand. “Take a look at your dream, Dylan Healy.”
He closed his hand on it. “But what about your beach house?”
She pushed him toward the door. “I don’t really need it. It was just a dream.”
