Noel Street

by Richard Paul Evans

  She was seated just a few tables from Dylan and William. Honestly, I was kind of glad William was there. It would give us something to laugh about later.

  “Thanks, doll. Did you check the status of the ketchup at her table?”

  “Yes, the bottle is half-full.”

  “No, it’s half-empty,” I said. I grabbed a full bottle of ketchup and, still carrying the pitcher, walked over to her. When I got to her table, Ketchup Lady looked more agitated than usual.

  I set the water and ketchup down, then said, “What can I get for you?”

  “I can’t sit here.”

  You seated yourself, I thought. “Is there a problem?”

  “I would say so. Why is that nigger boy in here?”

  My chest froze. I glanced over at Dylan, who was showing William how to use the Spirograph. “That boy is my son,” I said, my face hot. “Don’t you ever call him that again!”

  The woman didn’t flinch. “Well, I don’t like him here.”

  I was so angry I was shaking. “You get out of here right now before I shove this bottle of ketchup down your throat.”

  She looked at me in complete shock. “How dare you!”

  “How dare you!” I shouted back.

  She began looking around the diner for support. I hadn’t noticed but Loretta was standing near the cash register within earshot of the altercation. “Did you hear that?” Ketchup Lady shouted to her. “Did you hear what this insolent waitress just said to me?”

  Loretta walked over, glaring at the woman. “I heard what you said. You get out of my diner right now. And if I ever see you here again, I’ll throw you out.”

  The woman’s face was almost as red as the ketchup. “I… I…” She glanced over at Andy. “This woman just threatened me. Do your duty. This is our country!”

  Suddenly I realized that William was standing next to me. He looked fierce. “This boy’s father died protecting your country,” he said slowly but forcefully. “Do you know how many black brothers of mine died so you could fatten your face? Now get out of here before I drag you outside and throw you into the gutter where you belong.”

  Ketchup Lady looked utterly terrified. She turned to Andy, who was watching the exchange. “He threatened my life, Officer. Arrest him.”

  Andy stood and walked over. “No, all I heard was you threatening him. Get out now or I’ll arrest you for causing a public disturbance.”

  The woman was trembling now. She looked back at Dylan. I sensed she was about to say something to him when William said, “You say one word to that child and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “How dare you threaten me! I have connections. You’re going to see the inside of a jail, mister.”

  William almost looked amused. “You think that scares me? You have no idea what I’ve seen and what I’m capable of.”

  The woman looked faint. Loretta stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm. “Get out of here.”

  Ketchup Lady stood. She looked a little wobbly, then she stumbled toward the door. Jamie walked over to the table, grabbed the bottle of ketchup, and went to the door and threw it in the direction the woman had walked off in. I heard the bottle shatter.

  “Take that, you gross slob,” she shouted.

  I broke down crying.

  CHAPTER sixteen

  There’s a reason movies use ketchup to simulate blood.

  —Elle Sheen’s Diary

  Loretta put her arm around me. “Come to the back, honey. Come back and sit.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to talk to Dylan.” I looked over at him. He was visibly upset.

  “Did he hear what she said?” I asked William.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Dylan ran over to me. “Why are you crying, Mama?”

  I knelt down and hugged him. William squatted down next to us. “Everything’s okay,” he said. “There was a mean lady, but we made her leave.” William turned to me. “Elle, go back with Loretta, I’ll take care of Dylan.” Then he said to Dylan, “Would you like to share a milkshake?”

  “No, I want my own.”

  “Even better,” he said. “What flavor should we get?”

  “Let’s get strawberry.”

  “Perfect. I love strawberry.”

  Loretta smiled at him. “I’ll get two strawberries. And thank you, sir, for your service.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned to me. “Your friend has things under control. Now come on back, darlin’.”

  As we walked back she said to Andy, “Your dinner’s on me, Officer. Dessert too.”

  “Always my pleasure,” he said. “We don’t need that kind of crazy in Mistletoe.”

  CHAPTER seventeen

  William said something tonight I won’t forget: “Never live someone else’s crazy.”

  —Elle Sheen’s Diary

  Loretta let me go home early. Actually, she made me. William stayed with Dylan the whole time I was in the back with Loretta. They were arm wrestling when I came out, William pretending to lose.

  I was wearing my coat and carrying Dylan’s over my arm. “It’s time to go, Dylan.”

  “Okay.” He started stuffing all his toys back in his bag.

  William sidled up to me. He asked softly, “Are you okay?”

  I just nodded. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I’d start crying.

  “May I give you a hug?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  He put his arms around me. For a moment he just quietly held me. I almost forgot we were in public. He felt so good—his warmth, his strength.

  “Can I drive you home?” he asked.

  “I have my car.”

  “We can pick it up tomorrow after we go tubing. If you’re still up for it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We should go,” he said. “We can’t let crazy people dictate our lives.”

  He squeezed me one last time, then released me and turned back to Dylan. “Hey, tough guy. Want to go home in my truck?”

  “Yay!” he said.

  I took Dylan’s hand and we walked out the diner’s front door. I noticed something different in William’s moves. He seemed aware of the movement around him; every car and every human. He was still a soldier. When he pulled up to my house he was just as vigilant, walking me to the door. I felt sorry for anyone who might think to cross him.

  I opened the door. “Go inside, Dylan,” I said.

  He looked at William. “Can we play Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots?”

  “It’s too late tonight. But Mr. William is coming over tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be over tomorrow morning,” William said. “To take you tubing. I’ll bring more chocolate.”

  “Yes!”

  “But only if you go right to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  “And brush your teeth.”

  “All right.”

  He ran inside. I looked up at William. Before I could thank him he said, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m still a little shaken up.”

  “There will always be people like that. Don’t give them your time or your sanity.”

  I looked into his eyes. “Thank you for being there.”

  “You’re safe now,” he said. “You can trust me.”

  I looked at him for a moment, then said, “I do. I don’t know why, I barely know you, but I do.” I leaned my head forward against his chest.

  He put his arms around me and kissed my forehead, then leaned back. “You are an amazing, beautiful woman. No wonder…” He stopped.

  I looked up at him. “No wonder what?”

  He paused. “No wonder everyone loves you.”

  I looked at him, not believing that that was what he had been going to say. I took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “Lock your door.”

  “I will.” Up until that day I never had.

  CHAPTER ei
ghteen

  In the middle of a snowstorm we tubed down a steep hill, blind and out of control. That pretty much describes my life these days.

  —Elle Sheen’s Diary

  I woke the next morning feeling refreshed and excited for the day. William arrived at my place at five minutes to nine. He wore army boots, wool gloves, and his green army jacket. I figured it was the only coat he had.

  Dylan answered the door. “Hi, Mr. William. Did you bring the chocolate?”

  “Dylan,” I said, walking up behind him. “You don’t just ask people for chocolate.”

  “No, he’s just keeping me honest,” William said. “I promised him.” He brought a chocolate bar out of his jacket. “Did you go to bed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you brush your teeth?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He held out the chocolate bar. “Then you’ve earned this amazing bar of chocolate.”

  “Smart man,” I replied. “Earning points with the kid.”

  Dylan took the candy and turned to me. “Can I?”

  “Chocolate for breakfast?” I said. “Sure, why not?”

  He quickly tore open the wrapper.

  “Dylan, where are your gloves and hat?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’re in your closet.”

  “If you knew, why did you ask?” Dylan said.

  I breathed out. “Just get them.”

  William laughed. “He got you.”

  As Dylan went to his room I said to William, “Thank you again for last night.”

  “I would say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.”

  “You’re a strong man.”

  “When I’m not under trucks,” he said.

  When Dylan returned, the bar of chocolate was gone and the corners of his mouth were stained with chocolate. We walked out to William’s truck and climbed into it. The bed was filled with two large inner tubes, both dusted with snow.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “There’s a little park just before the canyon,” I said. “It’s not far from here. The hills are just the right size for Dylan.”

  “Just point the way.”

  Twenty minutes later we arrived at the park. There were maybe a dozen others, riding tubes and sleighs.

  It was snowing fairly hard and even though I had told Dylan that we wouldn’t go in the snow, it was only because I was afraid to drive in it. William had no such problem.

  We picked a medium-sized hill and William carried the two inner tubes up the incline while I walked up behind him holding Dylan’s hand.

  At the hill’s summit we linked ourselves together with our legs and slid down together, screaming and laughing. At least I screamed. Dylan just laughed. I hadn’t seen him that happy for some time. The falling snow limited our visibility, which added both to my fear and our general excitement. We tubed for about two hours, until we looked like animated snowmen; our clothes soaked through and almost frozen, we drove back to my house.

  “That was so cool!” Dylan exclaimed, still excited from the day.

  “That was a good place to tube,” William said.

  “It’s not too steep or too crowded,” I said. “Especially in the snow.” I looked at him. “The county lets you cut Christmas trees there,” I said. “Jamie and I cut one once. It was only a little one but we still had trouble carrying it out.”

  “I could help with that,” he said. “If you decide to do it again.”

  “I might take you up on that.” I leaned over and whispered, “A tree is not in the budget this year.”

  William whispered back, “Does Dylan know?”

  I glanced over at him and then shook my head. “Not yet. I’m still hoping something might work out.”

  He nodded. A moment later he said, “Do we have time to stop for a hamburger?”

  “I just need to be at work by three.”

  “Plenty of time.”

  William drove us to the Arctic Circle, a small local hamburger joint just a mile from Mistletoe up I-15. As we walked into the restaurant Dylan froze. There was a young black man standing behind the counter. Seeing black men in Mistletoe was rare enough, but a black teenager was a first for him.

  For a moment the two of them stared at each other. William approached the counter. “How’s it going?”

  The young man looked away from Dylan. “Not bad. What can I get for you?”

  “I’d like two Ranch burgers and an order of fries with your famous fry sauce.” He turned to me. “What would you like?”

  “I’ll have half of what you’re getting. Dylan will have the corn dog.”

  Dylan still just stood there staring at the young man. William turned to him. “Do you want fries with that?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “Got to have the fries,” William said. “We’ll also have two Cokes and a lime rickey. That will do it.” He took his wallet from his back pocket. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” the young man said.

  As we sat at the table Dylan suddenly said, “He’s a Negro.”

  William nodded. “There are black people everywhere. In the army my best friends were black. This is just kind of a different town. There aren’t many black people.”

  “How come?”

  “Good question.” William turned to me. “How come?”

  “More are in the big cities than in small towns like ours,” I said.

  “Why?” Dylan asked.

  “I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Let us know when you figure that out,” William said, grinning.

  “So how’s the corn dog?” William asked.

  “Good,” Dylan said.

  “You know, where I used to live, sometimes they fed us fish heads.”

  I was surprised that he was talking about it.

  Dylan stared at him, not sure if he was kidding or not. “Honest?”

  “I’m telling God’s truth. I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Did you eat them?”

  “You’ll eat anything if you’re hungry enough.” He leaned forward. “Even rats.”

  “Ooh,” Dylan said.

  William nodded. “Tastes like chicken.”

  * * *

  On the way back to town William said, “We still need to pick up your car.”

  I had forgotten that we had left it at the diner. “I’m glad one of us remembered.”

  A few moments later William stopped his truck behind the diner next to the Fairlane, which was covered with snow. “What time do you need to be back here?”

  “Not until three,” I said. “I have ninety minutes. Would you like to come over for some hot cocoa?”

  “I would love to.”

  “Can Mr. William play Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m sure Mr. William has better things to do.”

  “Better than playing Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots?” he replied. “I think not.” He turned to Dylan. “Are you good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  He turned to me, “Give me your car keys.”

  “How come?”

  “So I can warm up your car while I clear off the snow.”

  I took my keys out. “You don’t need to…”

  He put his finger on my lips, stopping me. “Let me be good to you.”

  It was the sweetest thing I had heard in months.

  He got out, pried my car door open—which had frozen shut—started my car, then, with a broom he took from the bed of his truck, cleared the snow off my windshield. Five minutes later he opened my door and offered me his hand. “It’s ready. Your car’s warm.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking it. I stepped in. “Meet you at my duplex?”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  “Can I ride with Mr. William?” Dylan asked.

  “It’s fine with me,” William said.

  “Sure.”

  Back at my duplex we kicked off our bo
ots and then went inside. Dylan took William’s hand and led him into his room while I went to the kitchen and heated up some milk in a saucepan, then poured in the cocoa powder. When it was hot, I poured three coffee cups full and dropped in marshmallows. I carried all three cups into Dylan’s bedroom, something waitresses are good at. I gave them their drinks, then sat down on the floor next to William to watch them box.

  “You’re really good at this,” William said to Dylan.

  “You’re not so good,” Dylan said.

  “Dylan,” I said.

  “He’s right,” William said. “I stink at this. He keeps knocking my block off.”

  They played a little longer until I made Dylan get in the bathtub. While he was bathing, William and I sat at the kitchen table with our cocoa. “I like your place,” he said.

  “Thank you. You have a nice place too.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “I thought you had been there.”

  I laughed. “I have.”

  “So you’re either being cloyingly polite or have trouble seeing in the dark.”

  I smiled. “It was a little dark. And I’m a little cloying.”

  William laughed.

  “Who lives in the other side of the duplex?”

  “Mr. Foster.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Old, mostly. He rarely comes out.”

  “But he’s quiet?”

  “Not really. I mean, he is; it’s not like he’s having wild parties, but his hearing’s going, so he turns the TV all the way up. Fortunately, he goes to bed before Dylan does.”

  “Is he nice?”

  “Yes, and he pays Dylan a dollar to take his garbage to the curb. That’s like a nickel a foot.”

  “What does Dylan do with all that money?”

  “I make him put it in his college fund.”

  We drank our cocoa.

  “Today was a nice day,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was. Dylan’s a great kid.”

  “He’s my reason, you know? He’s proof of God’s love.”

  “He’s proof of your love,” William said.

  “I worry about him. Like, maybe I’m going to ruin his life by living here.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He’s the only black child in his school. He’s the only black child in this whole town. You saw how he reacted to that young man at the hamburger place. Then add to that the fact that he doesn’t have a father.”