Clementine for Christmas

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  “This is Gabby,” Josie said, first to Melanie and then to Henry and their mom. She sat by the bed while Henry bounced around the room like a windup toy that couldn’t stop.

  “Sing ‘Rudolph’ because you’re reindeer!” he shouted.

  “You’ve got it,” Josie said, and launched into a rousing rendition of the song. Oscar sang along a little hesitantly, and after a moment Gabby joined in, too. At first she was quiet. But to Josie’s surprise, her voice got louder as the song went on. When Henry began dancing around, Gabby joined him. Josie would have imagined Gabby’s dancing to be graceful and smooth like everything else she did, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Gabby was giggling wildly, waving her arms about and stomping her feet. She looked like a cross between a monkey and a dinosaur. Josie blinked a few times, almost messing up the song, but it really was Gabby Chavez acting like a complete goof.

  “More!” Henry shouted when the song and dance had ended. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked nothing like the sad boy from a few weeks before.

  “Remember to ask nicely,” Henry’s mom said. But she was smiling, too.

  “Can you please sing about Harold’s angels?” Henry asked. “That’s Melanie’s favorite.”

  Melanie grinned at her brother. “It is,” she told them.

  “I don’t really know the words to that one,” Gabby said. “Just the chorus.”

  She was breathing hard from the dance and looked ready for a rest. Josie remembered she had been in the hospital not so long ago and probably still needed to take it easy.

  “Me neither,” Oscar said. He was fiddling with his cap.

  “No problem,” Josie said. The song was one of her favorites, too, and now that Gabby had revealed her true silly nature, Josie was fine singing alone. She began, letting her voice soar on the high notes, trilling where it felt right.

  When she was done, everyone burst into applause.

  Josie ducked her head, feeling thankful for the costume. “Okay, we’ll let you get some rest,” she said, and led the way out of Melanie’s room.

  “Why aren’t you singing in the Festival?” Gabby demanded the second they were out in the hall.

  Josie’s chest tightened—she did not want to have this conversation. “I don’t like singing in front of groups,” she said.

  “Well, you’re going to have to get over it,” Gabby said, as if Josie’s fear was like a flat tire that could be fixed right up. “You are an incredible singer and owe it to everyone here to share that. Plus, then we’ll only need three more acts.”

  Nothing was going to get Josie to agree to sing, not even Gabby Chavez. It wasn’t worth wasting time on when she had other matters to discuss. “You should be the one to perform,” she said. “You made Henry’s day with your dancing.”

  Gabby’s cheeks began turning pink. “Yeah, I can get kind of carried away with stuff like that,” she said. “But me dancing around like a crazy girl onstage isn’t exactly an act.”

  Even Oscar had to laugh at that.

  “You could do a fun skit, like ‘The Grinch,’ ” Josie said, waving to Nurse Joe as he walked by. “That’s my favorite Christmas story and you’d be a great Grinch.”

  “Actually, that seems more like Oscar’s skill set,” Gabby said, then bit her lip like she hadn’t meant to say something so sharp.

  Oscar’s eyes narrowed.

  “Either of you guys would be fabulous in it,” Josie said quickly, not wanting a fight.

  But both of them were shaking their heads.

  “I’m doing the sibling act,” Oscar reminded them sullenly.

  “Have you started organizing it?” Gabby asked.

  Oscar spun to face her. “I’m working on it,” he said shortly. “But I think Josie’s right—you’d be a perfect Grinch.”

  “You guys, the Grinch is the best,” Josie said, upset they were bickering and annoyed neither of them saw the awesomeness of the Grinch. “His heart grows in the end and he saves Christmas—there’s nothing better than that.”

  “I like the Grinch,” Gabby said with a smile that was tight along the edges. “But I’m not a stage performer. I’m more of a small group entertainer. Not like you with that incredible voice.”

  And now they were back to that, but Josie had an idea on how to get out of it. She took out her phone and pulled up her list. “We’ve asked everyone we thought of so far,” she said. “We need some new people to ask.”

  Gabby was nodding, but she was looking up at the clock over the nurse’s station. “Sorry, I need to get going. Let’s all think about it tonight. We need three more acts plus someone to lead the carol sing-along, and we have to get you to sign up, Josie. So that’s the agenda for tomorrow.”

  Josie didn’t care for the last item, and she was also worried they were still so many acts short. There were only seven days left until their deadline. What if they couldn’t find the acts plus a sing-along leader in time? But she couldn’t pressure Gabby to stay, not when she probably had things to do at home or was feeling tired after her stay in the hospital. So she waved good-bye, and she and Oscar continued along the peds ward, visiting each kid there.

  “HOW ARE THINGS at home?” Josie asked an hour later. She, Oscar, and Clementine were on the sofa in the volunteer room. Clementine had stretched out so that her head was on Oscar’s knee but most of her furry body rested against Josie. Oscar scratched behind her ears while Josie rubbed her back, and the dog closed her eyes with a squeak of contentment.

  Oscar shrugged. “Not great,” he said. “I’ll be glad when Christmas is over.” His voice was heavy, and when she heard it, Clementine snuggled in closer to him.

  “That’s rough,” Josie said, her heart aching for Oscar. She hated to think of Oscar not having any Christmas fun when everything about the holiday made her so happy. Maybe the Festival would help. As long as they managed to make it happen. She was about to ask what his ideas were for the sibling act and who else they might ask, when Clementine sat up straight. She sniffed, then padded over to the door just as it opened.

  “Mom,” Josie exclaimed, surprised to see her mom, still in work clothes, walk in.

  “Hey, sweetie,” her mom said, bending down to scratch Clementine’s ears. “I got off a little early and thought I’d swing by so we could walk home together.”

  “That’s nice,” Josie said, standing up. It was more than nice; it was strange. Josie couldn’t remember her mom ever just “swinging by” before. But she wasn’t going to ask about it now, not with Oscar right there. So she gathered her manners and gestured toward her new friend. “Mom, this is Oscar.”

  Josie’s mom stuck out her hand, which Oscar awkwardly accepted. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled. He looked slightly panicked when Josie headed to the costume closet to change back into her clothes. Clearly talking to grown-ups wasn’t his thing. But her mom began asking about the patients they’d seen that day, and pretty soon Oscar sounded normal again. And when Josie came out of the closet she saw why: He was sitting on the sofa with Clementine settled on his lap. Even more proof that her dog was amazing.

  A few minutes later, Josie headed out into the snowy afternoon with her mom and Clementine. The sidewalk was covered with fresh drifts and walking was a bit tricky, though Josie loved the squelching feeling of stepping down on piles of fresh snow.

  “I have some good news,” her mom said in a voice that sounded oddly flat and not good-newsy at all.

  “Okay,” Josie said uncertainly.

  “I found an apartment,” her mom went on as they stopped at the corner and waited for a car to pass. “Given our budget restrictions and how tight the real estate market is, we’re lucky to have come across it. It’s big and bright, not too far from Grandma and Grandpa’s, and right down the street from the park.”

  So that was why her mom sounded so hesitant: They were going to have to move.

  “It sounds good,” Josie said. Her feet were heavy in her big boots, and the wind was making her eyes water. Jos
ie knew she had to be a good sport for her mom’s sake—this meant so much to her—but Josie really didn’t want to move.

  “There’s just one thing,” Josie’s mom said, and now her voice was downright foreboding. “This building doesn’t accept pets.”

  Everything in Josie froze colder than the mounds of icy snow around them.

  “So we have a choice to make,” her mother went on. “We can take this apartment and find a new home for Clementine, or we wait to move.”

  The words sliced into Josie, cutting deep. “So if we take the apartment, we’d have to give up Clementine?” she asked, hoping maybe she’d misunderstood.

  “Yes,” her mom said, dashing her hopes. “I just haven’t seen any other apartments available that are right for us and that I can afford. So if we give up this one, we might have to wait a year or two while I build up some more savings.”

  “Could Clementine stay with Grandma and Grandpa?” Josie asked in a small voice. She wasn’t sure she could bear even that, but her mom shook her head.

  “They’re just too old to walk a dog regularly,” her mom said. “I’m sure we could find someone loving to take Clementine in—she’s such a sweetie. But, hon, it’s up to you. I can’t make you give her up when you’ve taken such good care of her all these years. So if it’s too much, you say the word and we stay.” Josie could hear the hope in her mother’s voice, how much it meant to her to move. But there at Josie’s feet was her dog, her loyal companion and best friend for more than five years.

  How could Josie possibly choose between them?

  “Hi, Oscar,” Oscar’s mom said, bustling in the front door. “I didn’t have time to make dinner, so I got takeout from Danny’s. Would you set the table?”

  Oscar was in the living room doing homework at the old-fashioned desk that had once belonged to his grandfather. “Sure,” he said, closing his math book. The smell of food made him hungry, and he hurried to set out plates, silverware, and glasses for everyone.

  He and his mom were unpacking the warm cardboard containers when his dad walked in. “I thought you were cooking tonight,” he said.

  Oscar’s gut began to fill with acid as his mom narrowed her eyes.

  “Hello to you, too,” she said coldly. “I didn’t have time to cook.”

  “We don’t have the money for endless takeout, Marlene,” his dad said, loosening his tie.

  “I know, but we needed to eat something,” his mother said. She slammed a carton on the table, and the top bounced off. Chili oozed over the sides.

  “It takes ten minutes to whip up an omelet,” his father said, grabbing a napkin to mop up the chili.

  “Are you offering to come home and cook one?” his mom seethed. “Because it’s actually a little more work than that.”

  “I can’t cook during the week,” his father barked. “You know that. It’s one of the few things you—”

  “Stop,” his mother said. Normally, this was the point where she’d be yelling. Instead, her voice was quiet. She sat down and put her head in her hands.

  For one horrible moment, Oscar thought she was crying.

  But then she looked up, her eyes dark as she gazed at Oscar’s dad. “I can’t do this,” she said.

  “Marlene we agreed to wait until—” his dad started, but his mom was shaking her head.

  “What’s the point?” she asked. “We agreed to wait so that the holidays wouldn’t be spoiled for Oscar. But us arguing every second—that’s even worse.”

  Oscar stepped back, instinctively holding up his hands to protect himself from what was coming. But his hands did nothing to stop the pain of his mother’s next statement.

  “Oscar, your dad and I are separating,” she said, the words biting into him with sharp fangs. “He already found an apartment, and he’ll be moving out January first.”

  “Why can’t you work it out?” Oscar asked, his voice wobbling dangerously. “You always tell me to work it out when I get into fights.”

  “Sweetie, we tried,” his mom said in a tired voice. “But things between adults get complicated.”

  There was nothing complicated about the fact that Oscar would be starting the new year with a busted-up family, a thought that made him want to punch something. Only for some reason instead of punching, he was crying. It was stupid and babyish, and yet he couldn’t stop.

  “Oh, Oscar,” his mom said, reaching for him as her voice cracked.

  But Oscar wasn’t having any of it.

  He flew from the room as his parents called after him, up the stairs and into the bathroom, the only place in the house with a lock. Which he locked. And then he turned on the bathwater so his parents, who were already knocking on the door outside, could not hear how this had broken him.

  Gabby strode into the lounge. “I have good news and bad,” she said. “Which do you want first?”

  Gabby had gone to ask the last three performers on the list if they’d be willing to sign up for the Festival while Josie, Oscar, and Clementine had visited a new patient.

  “The bad news,” Josie said. She was a big believer in getting bad things over with. Well, unless the bad thing was a horrible choice between her mom and her dog. That was something she was putting off as long as she could. It helped to have the Festival plans to distract her.

  “None of the people on the list can do it,” Gabby said. “They’re all going away for the holidays.”

  Josie’s shoulders sagged in her plush Mrs. Claus costume. “That’s really bad news. Is the good news that you signed up three replacements?”

  “It’s not that good,” Gabby said, sitting down on the chair. “But I did get an idea for who to ask next.”

  Josie looked over at Oscar, who had been quiet since they arrived. Clementine was curled up in his lap, and Oscar was resting his hands on her soft tan fur.

  “Okay, what’s the idea?” Josie asked.

  “When I was walking back, I saw two of the janitors cleaning up a spill in the main hall,” Gabby said, pulling out her phone. She’d taken over responsibility for the list. “And I realized we should ask some of them to perform.”

  “Good thinking,” Josie said. She couldn’t remember if any of the janitors had been in the Festival before, but they tended to be pretty friendly and seemed like a good department to approach.

  “We could ask them to do ‘The Gift of the Magi,’ ” Gabby said. “That’s kind of a classic.”

  “I love that story,” Josie agreed. She glanced at Oscar, who smiled weakly. Something was clearly wrong, but it was just as clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. “And I had an idea for an act, too.”

  “Oh, great,” Gabby said. “What?”

  “I was thinking we could ask some of the X-ray technicians to do a skeleton Christmas skit,” Josie said, playing with her fuzzy costume cuff. She kind of missed Clementine cuddling with her, but clearly her dog knew that Oscar was sad and needed some snuggling. “I think a lot of the little kids would love something that was a little scary but also funny like that.” She’d come up with the idea when she’d seen Dr. Scott with an envelope of X-rays. She hoped it didn’t sound stupid.

  “That’s fabulous!” Gabby said. “I’m writing it down.” She paused two seconds to type into her phone. “Let’s go ask them both.”

  “Um, I was thinking maybe you could ask while we go perform for the kids,” Josie said. She didn’t want to be too needy since Gabby was already helping so much. But it always went so well when Gabby was the one making the request.

  “Don’t you think you should try asking?” Gabby asked.

  Josie didn’t think so at all.

  “It could be good practice, talking to a few people you don’t know now, then singing at the show later,” Gabby said.

  Josie didn’t understand why Gabby wanted her to perform so much. “It’s a pretty big leap to talk to one person and then sing to five hundred of them,” she pointed out.

  “The first steps are the hardest but the most importan
t,” Gabby said. “Just try.”

  Josie wasn’t sure how to get out of it. She shot a pleading glance Oscar’s way, but he barely looked up and seemed to miss her distress. “I’ll stay here with Clementine,” he said.

  She was stuck. But at least she was half-hidden in the baggy folds of the velvety Mrs. Claus costume. “Okay,” she said, standing up.

  Gabby led the way into the hall where the two janitors were done cleaning. One was setting up a caution sign over the wet spot on the floor while the other was wringing out the mop.

  Josie’s feet slowed as they got close. Gabby poked her in the back and Josie jumped. Gabby had sharp fingers.

  “Hi,” Josie said as they came up to the workers, the butterflies starting in her chest and making it hard to get enough air. “I’m Josie, and I—”

  “Josie’s my girl,” Nurse Joe called out as he sailed by pushing a smiling Melanie in a wheelchair. “And you too, Gabs.”

  Josie saw Gabby grin at the nickname but then refocus her attention. Worried she was about to get another poke, Josie continued. “Um, we wondered if you guys might—The Christmas Festival, the one here at the hospital.” She faltered.

  One guy glanced at the other, and both looked concerned that Josie was ill. Or insane. Or both.

  “We need volunteers,” Josie practically wheezed. Then she felt a hand on her arm.

  “We’re signing people up to perform in the Christmas Festival,” Gabby said smoothly, putting Josie out of her misery. “And we wondered if a group of you guys might be willing to do a skit of ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ ”

  “Sure,” the first janitor said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Chris, and this is Zuri. I’m no actor, but this guy takes classes at the college. You do some drama, right?”