One student began clapping, who was followed by another— until everyone was applauding.
Randy watched in awe as a single line formed, with several dozen students waiting to sign up. He then looked over to see the college newspaper reporter writing into her notebook. He approached her. “Hey, I need a favor,” he said.
“Oh, no worries,” she said, “I planned on signing up and—”
“No, not that,” he interrupted, “though that would be cool.” He paused in thought. “No, the favor is…although I’d very much like you to run this story, with the hope of recruiting more crime watchers, I need you to keep my name out of it.”
She was surprised. “Why?”
“Please,” he repeated, “just don’t use my name, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, reluctantly.
Randy patted her on the shoulder before returning to the sign-ups.
~~~
Across town, Ava passed through the projects on her way to Mr. Dwyer’s apartment. “Oh my God,” she muttered and looked up. Although it hadn’t even drizzled, a rainbow suddenly appeared—its vivid colors stacked one on top of the next. It was the type of sign that could not be denied. She nodded, thinking, I’m exactly where I need to be.
On the afternoon she’d first met Mr. Dwyer, she’d brought him a deep dish pizza and they played cribbage. There was nothing behind his eyes; just the distant gaze of a man waiting to die. But a few subsequent visits seemed to soften and even spark a fire back into his sapphire eyes.
Ava sat in Mr. Dwyer’s kitchen, preparing a snack for the elderly man.
“Why do I need to leave the apartment, Ava?” Mr. Dwyer asked. “I have everything I need here.”
“Sure,” Ava teased, “everything but contact with other people.”
“I have you,” he said, smiling.
“Yes you do. And I’ll keep coming over every chance I get.” She paused. “When’s the last time you left this apartment?”
The old man thought for a while, but couldn’t remember.
“Just try it once,” she prodded, smiling, “for me.”
Mr. Dwyer grinned. “That’s not fair. Why is it so important to you?”
“Because I know it’ll increase the quality of your life.” She nodded. “I’ve done the research. There’s a poker game every Friday afternoon at the Council on Aging Hall. They’ll send a bus to pick you up and drop you off, so there are no excuses there.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Do you need me to teach you how to play poker?” she teased.
“I put two of my kids through college playing poker.” He grinned. “You want to play me for your tuition money?”
“So a Friday game will be fun then, right?” she said.
The old man sighed heavily. “Okay, I’ll try it,” he said, finally surrendering.
Wearing her best smile, Ava nodded.
The two sat and watched TV together for a few minutes when Mr. Dwyer confessed, “Ava, from the first time you knocked on my door, I’ve honestly felt like God sent me a guardian angel.” He matched her smile. “I hope you have one too.”
Ava nodded. “I do,” she said. “His name’s Jesse.”
~~~
Izzy and Ava were sitting together on the porch studying for finals, when a young couple—the woman pregnant—ascended their stairs.
“Excuse us for intruding, but is one of you Isabella Evans?” the man asked.
Izzy sat up, curious. “I am.”
Without a word, the pregnant woman hurried to her and gave her a hug. Both Izzy and Ava were taken aback.
The man quickly explained. “Isabella, I’m Don and the woman hugging the life out of you right now is my wife, Tracy. Our four-year-old son, Cameron…” he became choked up, “…was dying from leukemia until you saved his life.”
“She what?” Ava squealed.
While Tracy let go of Izzy, she turned to Ava. “Isabella was a perfect match for Cameron and donated her bone marrow. We didn’t think…” Tracy began crying.
Don took over. “The radiation and chemotherapy treatments didn’t work for Cameron. Three weeks ago, the doctors pretty much told us to say our good-byes to him.” He paused to compose himself. “But an angel showed up out of nowhere and spared our boy’s life.” Don approached Izzy, who accepted his hug.
“So we came to say thank you,” Tracy said, rubbing her belly, “and to ask your permission.”
“Permission?” Izzy asked, confused.
“Tracy nodded. “We’d like to name our daughter, Isabella, if it’s okay with you?”
“Oh, Iz,” Ava cried.
Izzy was overwhelmed with emotion and could only nod.
The four sat together for a while, alternating between conversation and wiping away tears.
An hour later, as the sun set for the night, Izzy’s surprise guests bid their farewell. She and Ava sat alone.
“Mono?” Ava snickered. “That was a good one.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Izzy said, “I didn’t like it.”
“That’s fine,” Ava said and smiled. “Well, it looks like you just won four quarters,” she teased.
Izzy looked hard at her friend. “No, Ava. Swear to me that you won’t tell a soul.”
“But why?”
“It just doesn’t seem like it’s something I should take credit for,” Izzy explained. “It’s bigger than that, you know?” She paused. “Besides, Jesse knows…”
“And so does God,” Ava interrupted in a whisper.
“Exactly.” Izzy smiled. “And that’s my point, Ava. No one else has to know, okay?”
“Okay,” Ava conceded.
~~~
Ten hours later, it was just past dusk when Kevin—covered in four days of sweat and dirt—led his exhausted troops through the college’s front gate. While most of the bike riders could barely keep their eyes open, Kevin’s emerald eyes sparkled with joy. “We did it!” he said aloud.
~~~
The sun rose in the east, chasing away the shadows on the campus quad. Izzy stood at a table, with other college-aged volunteers. A banner reading, ADULT LITERACY BOOK DRIVE hung across the front of the table. While college students and faculty stopped by to donate their used books, Izzy was on her cell phone with the local library. “I guess the bottom line is that you’ll never have to throw away another book,” she said. “We’ll take them all. And we’ll take care of storing them, moving them and distributing them. Can we meet next week to finalize the logistics?” She listened. “Fantastic! You just made my day.”
~~~
That night, on Izzy and Ava’s front porch, the crew gathered for their weekly get-together and to celebrate their recent achievements with a pizza party.
“One more week to go until Christmas,” Ava said, “until we see who won the contest.”
“Everyone ready?” Izzy asked.
The boys nodded but remained quiet.
“Silence until the end,” Ava said. “I love it.”
10
The college cafeteria was decorated for the holidays, everything covered in red and green. Kevin stood tall at a podium in the middle of the dining room, addressing a small audience of scholarship sponsors and supporters. “Not long ago,” he began, “I was inspired by the generous spirit of my late friend, Jesse Cabral, to make a positive difference in this world. As a poor kid who has struggled to fund my own way through college, I decided that I wanted to establish a scholarship…enough money for some kid to go to school. Not a hand out, but a hand up.” He took a deep breath and nodded before continuing, “…with the expectation that each recipient will pay it forward when they are in the position to do so.” He looked up from the podium and scanned the smiling crowd before him. “The support I received was overwhelming and my dream of creating one scholarship ended up becoming two, with enough annual pledges for two scholarships each year going forward.”
Applause echoed through the room.
Kevin continued. �
��I can also see the potential for this one inspired idea to keep growing and increasing until we can help lots of kids get into college…good students that may not have had the opportunity otherwise.”
The applause grew louder.
“I’ll be spending much of my free time during the spring semester reviewing applications for the first two Hand Up Scholarships,” Kevin said, wearing the biggest smile. “And I can’t imagine anything that would make me happier.”
The applause reached a spine-tingling volume. Kevin fought back his emotions. He was overjoyed.
After enjoying a potluck dinner, everyone prepared to leave. Professor Wishart, a respected faculty member, approached Kevin. “People are going to remember your name around here, Kevin Robinson,” he said with a wink.
“Nope. I’m just the messenger,” Kevin said. “It’s the name Jesse that people need to remember.”
The wise man nodded. As he turned to walk away, he stopped. “Just make sure you select recipients who are worthy of this extraordinary gift,” he said.
“I will,” Kevin promised, “because we need this to spread like some inspired wildfire.”
~~~
Ava finished the final edit on her human interest piece, Life on the River, and wondered how Mrs. LeComte would react to her story being told. She’d spent ten times the effort on that one piece than any college reporter would have ever bothered. But it was a one-shot deal for both her and Mrs. LeComte. I need to get it right, Ava decided. Even Izzy pretended to complain about all the time Ava spent on the computer.
Ava finally turned it in. The editor called two days later. “Not a bad piece for your first,” he said. “I had to make the usual changes though.”
“Thanks,” Ava told him.
There was a pause. “Listen, if you’re looking to write some more, I have plenty of work that I need to assign,” he offered.
“Thanks,” Ava told him, “I’ll have to check my schedule to see what I can fit.” It was the best way she knew of saying she had no further interest.
“Fair enough. Just let me know,” he said before there was a dial tone.
It was a random Tuesday morning when Ava picked up a copy of the college newspaper, The Fighting Eagle, and flipped through it. Her spirit soared. The piece was buried on page seven, but its placement didn’t matter. She grabbed ten copies and raced off to the Rolling Hills Retirement Home to share it with Mrs. LeComte.
Ava sat on the edge of the old woman’s bed and took a deep breath. “Life on the River,” Ava read and was surprised when her eyes started to swell with tears.
Mrs. LeComte grabbed Ava’s hand and nodded for her to continue.
“On the twelfth of May, a baby girl was born to proud parents in Fall River, Massachusetts. Little did they know—Marie LeComte’s life would be an amazing one…”
Mrs. LeComte began to cry. “Oh sweetheart,” she whimpered and squeezed Ava’s hand.
Ava studied the woman’s face for a moment. “Should I continue, Mrs. LeComte?”
“Oh yes…please do,” the woman said before closing her eyes—to bask in the details of her existence on earth.
~~~
A week before Christmas, Professor McKee happened by the front porch and asked, “So none of you are going home for the Christmas break?”
Kevin, Ava, Randy and Izzy all shook their heads. “We’re staying here,” Randy announced.
“With Jesse,” Ava added.
The teacher smiled. “That’s what I figured,” she said and walked away.
Each of them wrote home, letting their families know that they were going to spend this last Christmas at college together. In lieu of gifts, they requested decorations and food.
Izzy’s dad surprised them by bringing up a real blue spruce pine tree; he left it in the tree stand on the porch with a note: Merry Christmas, guys. As you share the spirit of the holidays together, let it heal you.
Ava’s parents sent a supermarket gift card for two hundred dollars with a note: For food only, please.
“We will, Mom,” Ava announced aloud and laughed. “We’ll use whatever cash we have for beer and wine.”
Kevin’s family sent a care package with enough sweets—minus the fruitcake—to cause the early onset of diabetes.
Professor McKee also left a box of canned food on the porch. The note read, Consider it a small visit from karma.
Randy’s parents shipped a huge box of old Christmas decorations to the boys’ apartment. When Randy lugged it over to the front porch, all four of them sifted through its contents. “Looks like someone saved a trip to the landfill,” Kevin teased.
Randy nodded. “To you, maybe,” he said, “but my entire childhood is in this box.” He began pulling out one item after the next and his eyes were set on fire. “Every Christmas since I was a baby…” he mumbled.
The rest of them shared some discreet smirks, while allowing Randy his moment of nostalgia.
From tangled strands of lights that intermittently worked to crocheted red and green afghans that smelled like moth balls, there was a little bit of everything in the massive box. A huge plastic poster of Santa Claus was attached to the back of a creased cardboard fireplace, which probably looked pretty nice the first fifteen years it was used. But that was at least ten years ago. A box within the box revealed faded and chipped ornaments. Several unused boxes of tinsel lay at the bottom, along with a porcelain Christmas tree—illuminated by multi-colored lights. Kevin became excited when he saw it; he yanked it out of the box and hurried to plug it in. “It works,” he said.
“And it’s ugly,” Ava said.
“It sure is,” he admitted, “but it’s also rare.”
“What?” Randy asked.
Kevin nodded. “I’ve seen them online and they’re worth money now.” He looked at Randy. “Unless you’re attached to it, we could—”
“—put it on eBay,” Randy finished for his friend. “It obviously means more to me than my parents.” He grinned. “And the beer means more to me than the porcelain tree.”
Everyone laughed, while Izzy and Ava positioned the twinkling ceramic tree for a photo to place on eBay.
Staying up late into the night, they transformed Izzy and Ava’s apartment into a magical—although poor—wonderland.
~~~
On Christmas Eve, as the snow began to fall, all four friends passed beneath a deformed, plastic ball of mistletoe to gather together on the porch. The girls claimed the glider, while the boys dragged their chairs against the apartment’s faded clapboard, where they could bury themselves under the same blankets they usually made fun of. With the window open, it was Randy’s turn to have his cell phone’s play list plugged in. He chose to remain on memory lane with a play list that included Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Elvis Presley and every other artist that his parents forced him to listen to as a boy—but whom he’d since missed.
At one point, Ava slapped the iPod, shutting it off. For a long while, the four sat together in silence—listening to the frozen wind caroling through the icicle-draped trees. The white ground blended beautifully with the gray sky, broken only by the soft light being emitted from windows up and down both sides of the desolate street as families celebrated in their own ways and traditions.
In the silence, Kevin whispered, “I really miss Jesse.”
“Me too,” Ava said, her voice choked with emotion.
As though he were going to speak, Randy took a deep breath. But he only exhaled, his feelings betrayed in a wounded sigh.
Izzy shook her head. “But he’s with us,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “Can’t you feel him?”
Ava grabbed her friend’s arm and held on tight. “I do,” she said. “I really do.”
“Me too,” Kevin said.
Randy nodded. “But not just here,” he said. “Not just now.” He took another deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I feel Jesse with me in everything I do.”
“Me too,” Kevin repeated. “And this
may sound crazy, but I’m always asking myself what would Jesse think before I do pretty much anything.”
Through her sniffles, Izzy laughed. “That’s not a bad compass to use,” she whimpered.
“I know,” Kevin agreed. “I feel blessed to have him with me.”
“Me too,” they said in chorus.
For a moment, they sat in silence together—until Ava whispered, “Merry Christmas, Jesse”—as though he were sitting right there beside them.
One by one, the other three echoed the same.
And in response, the icy wind sang through the frozen pines.
When they finally sat to eat, the girls ensured that a place was set for Jesse at the head of their humble table. No one even considered claiming the seat.
11
The following night, in the bitter cold, the four friends bundled up and returned to the front porch. It seemed appropriate to present the tally of deeds to Professor McKee, their only witness and judge.
“When we graduate in the spring, I’ve heard that the college is honoring Jesse with a Bachelor’s degree,” Izzy said.
“Well, it’s only right,” McKee said, nodding. “Though they won’t be honoring him nearly as much as you guys have.”
Kevin cleared his throat. “This may sound strange, but this contest to honor Jesse’s memory has become just as important to me as graduating in the spring.”
The Thursday Night Club Page 7
