Very nonchalantly, I asked the friendly person on the other end of the phone how John was getting to and from the academy training program.
“I let him use my car. He drops me off at 7:30 and then comes by to pick me up around 4:30. He goes to the academy every day, Monday through Friday,” Rick informed me.
So that was that. He confirmed it. But did I want to move all the way from Pennsylvania to North Carolina? After a few more phone calls, with John pleading with me to pack up and leave Pennsylvania, pledging his love for me, I decided to go; especially because the kids seemed to be in favor of it.
And here I am today. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me. So shame on me, because he fooled me. He fooled Rick, too. There was no police academy, and there was no job as a policeman. It was all a lie. I have no idea what he had been using Rick’s car for, but it certainly wasn’t for work, or even looking for work.
I found work soon after I got here. I had to. I had come all this way, so now I had to come up with some way to make money. After I found a place to live, I paid the security deposit and the first month’s rent, and got the utilities turned on. We began a new life in a new state, but with the same old lies and deceit I had in Pennsylvania. Once again we were surviving on my earnings. I came home every day to a drunk husband, but I know it was a lesson for me. A leopard doesn’t change his spots, I’ve been told, and in this case, this leopard proved to have the very same spots as he always had. Everything was not fine, but I had to make the best of it. Then I lost my job. The thrift store where I had been hired as the manager was closing its doors. Halloween was my last day of work. There would be no unemployment, since none had been paid into that fund. Great.
Now in all the months I have been here, John has never once applied for a job.
All through November I frantically searched for a job. All the holiday help had been already hired and the list of candidates was endless. There was a lot of unemployment in the area, and a whole lot of people were searching for work. I was forced to apply for assistance and food stamps, but after everything was verified, it was determined that I was not eligible. Why? Because my husband had quit his last job--a job where he painted front doors on Fort Bragg and was paid a dollar a door. He brought home $24 dollars one week and then quit. So no assistance, no food stamps, no help at all for us. Two weeks prior to today I went back down to the Public Assistance Office and asked--no--begged for food stamps. And I prayed--a lot. We were starving. They sent me to the food bank but I am limited to how many times I can go there.
So here we are
The day before Christmas.
I slowly walk into the kitchen and open up the refrigerator. Nothing. It’s completely empty. We ate mustard sandwiches last night and that was the end of the mustard and the bread. So no food fairy had shown up during the night? I open the cupboards and they are barren, too. Where are the Keebler Elves when you need them? Dairy fairy? Anybody?
I’m crying again. I can’t even offer them breakfast. I look over at John, just hating the sight of him, but for once he’s sober.
“Is there any gas in the car?” he asks
“Did you put any in?” I respond.
“No.”
“Well, then I guess there isn’t.” Oh, how I want to smash his face in. John gets up, puts on his jacket and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
“Mom? Can we at least have a tree?” my sweet daughter asks.
“Honey, I don’t have money for a tree.”
“We can go and cut one down,” Terra reasons.
“Yeah, Mom, we could. And then we could make ornaments for it from stuff around the house. Can we?” My son, Eric, pleads. “It’ll be fun.”
Why not? I wonder.
They deserve some happiness in their lives.
So the three of us, Terra, Eric, and me, dressed in jeans, jackets, and boots set off into the woods to find something resembling an evergreen tree. We find a green tree of some sort--I don’t know what it is--but it’s green, and easy to cut down. We only have a small saw with a very dull blade. We drag it home and set it up in an old coffee can, reinforcing it with old rags stuffed around the can to keep it standing straight. Eric’s suggestion of soaking the rags made sense, since it would help the green stay green. We begin looking for items to create ornaments. Eric creates a couple silver stars from the foil in John’s old cigarette packs and puts them on the tree. Terra contributes some hair ties and ribbons. I go to the sewing basket and find lots of things to use to make ornaments. There is lace, buttons, ribbons and sequins. We make several ornaments from what we find in there.
So the tree is decorated, and I must say, it is pathetic. But the kids are happy with it, and that’s all that counts. As we sit staring at the pitiful tree, someone knocks on our door. It’s the landlady. In my head, I groan. The rent is past due. But she isn’t there to collect the rent. She hands Terra a foil-wrapped something and says, “Merry Christmas.” Terra is all smiles as she holds it up for me to see.
“Food, Mom. Food!”
Eric starts to laugh. “We are so pathetic, aren’t we? Sorry, Mom. Don’t start crying.”
We head to the kitchen and open the foil. Oh, it smells delicious. There are cranberries, pieces of apple, and nuts swirling through the cinnamon spiced bread, and my mouth is watering. I slice the bread and hand each of them a piece. I know it would be even better with butter on it, but we don’t have any. But it’s a gourmet delight to us. We each have another piece and then I carefully wrap it back up to save for later. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Eric breaks the silence.
“It could be worse,” he says. “I mean, the roof doesn’t leak.”
This sends Terra and me into fits of laughter. Eric can be so funny and kind of philosophical, too. Leave it to him to find something good in the situation. We immediately join him in coming up with other positive things we can be thankful for.
“No snow outside,” I remind them.
“Yeah, and it’s not as cold as in Pennsylvania,” Terra continues. “And the lights are still on. For now.”
We begin to get silly and laugh over some really ridiculous ideas, but it helps to lift our spirits.. It’s funny how a little bit of food can make a person giddy.
Eric becomes serious again.
“Mom, we have each other even if we don’t have anything else.” His words quiet us. Terra and I nod and smile. I’m starting to cry again. These wonderful kids deserve so much more. I have failed them. These two kids, destined for great things, are deprived of food and a decent Christmas all because of my naïve stupidity.
Terra disappears into her room and comes back with a Yahtzee game.
“Let’s play. Okay?” She smiles, and I know the smile is to keep me from crying again.
Eric and I nod and we take seats around the kitchen table as she sets up the game. Before we start, John comes through the door, he staggers past, goes directly into the bedroom, and shuts the door.
“Where does he get the money for booze?” Eric asks. I sigh and shrug.
“That’s something I wonder about, too.”
“Mom, tell him he can’t have any of that bread unless he shares the booze with you.”
Terra is joking, of course, and we chuckle. She rolls a Yahtzee. Someone knocks on the door and Eric gets up to see who it is. It’s the neighbor from across the road.
Our Neighbor says, “Merry Christmas,” and hands Eric a foil covered paper plate. Eric is grinning as he brings it to the kitchen.
“Cookies,” he says.
“Well, uncover them and let’s see what kind,” Terra strongly suggests.
They are beautiful. There are some decorated sugar cookies, a couple of mince-filled ones, some mock cheesecakes, and some rum balls.
“I feel like we just hit the lottery,” Eric quips as he reaches for a sugar cookie, then hands the plate to Terra. Her hand dives for one, and then she hands the plate to me. I decline, saving
all of them for my two children. We resume the game, but we are interrupted again by quiet knocking at the door. Eric gets up again and opens the door. Terra and I can hear a woman’s voice, and Eric turns to us.
“Mom”, is all he says, but there is a light in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. He holds the door open as four women move past him into the living room. Each woman is loaded down with boxes and shopping bags full of things. Terra and I exchange glances, and then look quizzically toward Eric. He shrugs.
“What is all this?” I ask as they set the parcels down on the floor and the coffee table..
“Hi,” Lady number one says. “My name is Joanne. This is Ellen, and Frieda, and Alice. We’re from the Public Assistance Office. Each year we choose at least three families in need and try to help them out. We have a private fund and we all contribute to it every payday all year. It’s usually one of the clients in the system, but this year we chose your name as one of our recipients. We know you need help, but our hands are tied. We have to follow the guidelines set up for us.”
“We decided to make you one of our families this year, because we think you are a decent person who just needs a break.” Ellen who said. I recognized her from the times I had been at the Public Assistance Office. She was the one who took my information.
“We felt terrible when we had to turn you down for assistance. It broke my heart to see how down trodden you were,” she continued.
“We brought food and gifts for the kids, and there is a gift for you, too,” Frieda added. She reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I told my husband about you, and he thinks he may be able to find you a position in his company. Here is the information. Call him the day after New Year’s. The company is closed until then.”
I am speechless. Everything in front of me has now blurred. I try to speak but only a sob escapes my lips. I nod to Frieda, indicating that I understood, and would definitely call on the second of January. I see the shine of tears in my children’s eyes, and then I look at these four women--Angels. They have tears in their eyes, too.
“Well, we have to get going. We have another family to surprise,” Alice says as she stands. “Merry Christmas to all of you,” she adds with a smile.
We wish them a Merry Christmas and see them out. I notice the van they came in. There is an angel in a white dress attached to the grill. Eric and Terra carry the shopping bags into the kitchen as I put the wrapped gifts under our little tree.
The kids exclaim over the items they take out of the bags.
“Milk, cereal, bread, butter,” Eric says.
“A ham!” Terra squeals. “And there’s a bag of potatoes, a head of lettuce, tomatoes. Canned green beans, sugar, another loaf of bread, eggs. Yams…yuck.”
“Mom, there are cans of soup and crackers, cans of tuna….Mom, we’re going to eat all week.” Eric is excited.
Terra tries to hide it, but I can tell she is excited, too.
“Pumpkin pie! And Cool Whip!” she exclaims.
I reach for them and hug them, silently thanking the Lord for sending those
Angels of Christmas to us.
“Thank you, Lord,” I say. “I promise I will give back when I can.”
And I do. All three of us do. I got the job working for Frieda’s husband, and we got on our feet. I left John on Valentine’s Day and with the new job I was able to afford a divorce. Since that Christmas, I make it a point to give back every year. I donate toys, clothing, and food, and I work at the soup kitchen a few times a year. Terra donates as well, and Eric did up until the time he passed away.
I’ll never forget that day, or those four women. It was a turning point in my life, and I will always be grateful to those ladies.
Those Angels of Christmas.
The End
THE FIRST HOLIDAY
Claudia Burgoa
Garlands, Christmas trees, multiple bright decorations, and carols invaded every corner of the mall. The spicy aroma of cinnamon and pine from every store overtook the air, except for the ones that tried to sell colognes and perfumes. There’s where I stood, at one of the biggest retailers, choosing a flowery perfume for my teenage sister. I doubted the girl would care for what she’d receive this year, but Mom would appreciate the gesture, wherever she was. And for Dad’s gift: the classic Ralph Lauren cologne, with a Hallmark card wishing him a happy holiday—nothing specific, since he no longer celebrated.
Five years without Mom, and nothing had changed since her death. Dad forgot he had two children, and my sister believed every rule had to be broken before she reached adulthood. Last year, I dared to drive down to Connecticut in hopes to… get family time, but who had I been kidding. Not once did my sister stay in the house at night, Dad simply brushed me off, and the empty home begged for a piece of greenery to celebrate the season. If Mom had watched from above, she’d have cried at the realization of what her family had become. Then again, maybe not, since she had stopped caring and decided to leave us earlier than expected.
My grandparents—my mom’s parents—reminded me that I wasn’t my parents, and my future depended on me, not who my parents had been. The desire to be with my grandparents during the holidays had left, after they had decided to take a two-month cruise.
My roommate, Daniel—who was also my best friend—didn’t do much these days. He only worked and planned for his future. He never talked about his family, had only mentioned that his parents died, and claimed that the fine state of Massachusetts had raised him the best they could. I believed they had done well, since the guy got a full-ride to Harvard, and had built an investment company within the last year. For the holidays this year, it would be Daniel and me eating pizza and drinking beer—if we could get some upperclassman to buy it. Though that might have been difficult, since everyone was leaving to spend the following weeks with their families.
From where I stood, I saw her. She was petite, with long honey-colored hair, and wore a long black coat that made her look like a child lost in the middle of campus. During the times we had interacted, she had talked to Daniel and ignored me. No one could blame her; he had the athletic build and pretty face girls loved. The only muscles I built were the ones in my hands from drawing. He hadn’t given her a second glance. Actually, after dating Tessa a year ago, the man didn’t date at all, shoving any girl who accosted him to the side. Meanwhile, I had trouble trying to say one word to any of them.
“Tyler,” she said, while walking toward me, “I thought it was you. Ava swore you were a figment of my imagination, but I would recognize you anywhere.”
“Ashley,” I said. Don’t be dumb; play it cool. “Came to buy some presents, you know… the holidays—”
“Got it.” She smiled sweetly. “Are you going home for the holidays?” Then she hit her forehead with an open palm. “Dumb question; of course you are.”
“Actually, my family doesn’t celebrate. Since Mom died…” I didn’t finish the sentence. She tilted her head and gave me an expectant gaze, waiting for me to continue. “Dad’s not interested—he doesn’t care much about me or my sister.”
“Wouldn’t you go for her?” she asked. But instead of pausing for me to answer, she talked about herself. “My two sisters can be a pain, but I love them. Being the oldest and all, you have to be—”
“Dad and I aren’t on good terms,” I said, cutting her off. What else could I say? The point she was trying to make would work for normal families, but mine had a dark side.
Mom had been bipolar, and during a guys' weekend, she committed suicide in front of my sister. Lying for more than twenty-four hours inside the tub, my nine-year-old sister watched our mother lose the biggest battle of her life. Dad blamed me, and decided to give my sister everything her heart desired. Everything but attention, counseling, and real love. Five years later, my lost teenage sister continued living her life without caring about anyone but herself. My hands had been tied, and Dad had forbidden me from intervening.
“
Ava’s outside waiting for you,” I stated, changing the subject. That had been best thing I could do: steer the conversation in a different direction, before I could give away memories of my personal hell. Getting sympathy for the sob story had been my sister Lisa’s thing, not mine.
“Will you be going to tonight’s party?” she asked. I gave a sharp nod. “Is Dan going?”
“You deserve better than him,” I blurted. My big mouth had done it again. I pursed my lips and ran a hand through my hair.
“Oh, I was asking for her.” Ashley pointed at Ava. “He’s not my type—Dan.” Ashley gave me a coy smile that made me wonder if she’d be into a scrawny guy like me.
Maybe tomorrow I would take a run with Dan, and then lift some weights. Ava called out from the door of the store, and Ashley turned and indicated with her finger that she’d need another minute. “She can be too much. One day, I’ll find a sucker to take her out of my hair. See you later, Ty.” Ashley wiggled her fingers while waving and walked backwards to the door.
* * *
On my way to the coffee shop, I found Ashley hauling a large black suitcase, and gazing at the ground, her posture slumped. At least five pounds of sadness rested on her shoulders. Forgetting the loud noises coming from my stomach, I walked toward her. “Ash,” I said, but there was no response. “Ashley.” The second time I said her name, there was a better reception. She stopped and looked at me. “Why the long face?” I asked.
“Dad.” She said one word, paused, made a small sigh, and then continued. “He messed up the reservations; my flight is for January, not December twenty-second. There’s no way I’ll be able to fly home. Today’s the first day of Chanukah, and Christmas is in a couple of days. Mom’s Jewish, and Dad’s Catholic. We celebrate both… well not this year.” Her lips quivered and the tears in her eyes began to roll down. While running a hand through my hair, I wondered what I could tell her to make things better, but not one answer came to mind. “This holiday season is ruined,” she said between sniffles.
A World of Joy Page 2
