We said good-bye and then I went out to the shop. Spencer was rearranging flower arrangements in the glass cases.
“Bye, Spence. Go home soon and make up with Kevin, okay? And have a happy Christmas.”
He turned around and held his finger up, then rushed to the desk, opened a drawer, and grabbed a package wrapped in Christmas paper.
“Merry Christmas, Rayanna Louise Lynch,” he said as he handed me the gift.
I felt like such a loser. “But I didn’t get anything for you!”
“What? Are you kidding me? You gave me the most amazing hug in the world earlier today.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. “The best gift I’ll get, I promise you.”
“Can I wait?” I asked him. “To open it? Do you mind?”
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I hope you like it!”
“I’m sure I’ll love it, Spencer. Thank you. Really.”
I gave Mister a little scratch behind his ear, and then I walked outside into the darkness. I turned around and took in the brightly lit shop, twinkling like a brilliant star in the night sky. Spencer waved and I waved back. I felt like I might cry, which seemed ridiculous. I’d be away for twelve days, not twelve years.
I drove home thinking about the hundred dollars Nina had given me. It was our little secret, which meant Dean couldn’t get his hooks into any of it. It was all mine. I started spending it in my head. I’d get my mom a little something. She loved chocolate, so maybe a box of chocolates. In the next few days, I planned on stopping by to see Maddie and Ella. I thought about them a lot. So maybe I’d get them a little something too. The rest of the money I’d keep, to supplement the measly forty bucks Dean continued to give me every two weeks.
The lights were out and no one was home when I got there. There wasn’t a single sign of Christmas, except for the brightly wrapped gift Spencer had given me. I grabbed a maple bar from the box of doughnuts Mom had brought home the night before and went to my room. I stuck Spencer’s gift under my bed so Dean wouldn’t find it and open it, hoping it might be something valuable. At least I’d have one gift to open Christmas morning.
When I got on the laptop and opened my e-mail account, Leo had already sent the video. I opened the file and watched.
A black screen appeared. Next, soft music from an acoustic guitar and the words IN SEARCH OF FUN appeared. And then images, one after another. Squishy ground. Tangled branches. Swirling sky. Each image was lovelier than the last. Leo’s editing was flawless, and the music a perfect accompaniment. When our friend the squirrel took the screen, he took us to new heights, until suddenly, the squirrel and the music stopped simultaneously, and the squirrel stared right at the camera. And then, a giggle, my giggle, edited into the video in that moment, followed by the words I THINK WE FOUND IT against another black screen.
I hit replay, and watched it seven more times.
And then I e-mailed him back with this message:
Best. Video. Ever!
He replied a few seconds later.
In other words, brilliant?
gifts
I GOT UP EARLY ON THURSDAY MORNING AND DROVE TWENTY miles to the mall. Even at nine o’clock, the parking lot was packed. I could have gone to one of the stores in Crestfield, but I was hungry for some Christmas spirit, even if it was the crazy kind you find at the mall two days before Christmas.
I had no idea what I wanted to get, so I wandered around aimlessly for a couple of hours. At one point I stopped and listened to a children’s choir. A sign said they were called Inside Voices, and they were so cute. Talented, too. It was exactly the kind of spirit I’d been longing for. They sang all my favorites—“Joy to the World,” “Silent Night,” “Little Drummer Boy,” and “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.”
I bought three of their CDs. Along with the music, I walked out with a custom assortment of See’s Candies with all of Mom’s favorites, and a couple of gift bags and cards.
When I got back to Crestfield, I stopped at Maddie’s apartment first. She looked much better this time and the baby wasn’t crying.
“Hi,” I told her. “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“You delivered the flowers. And bought me some formula.” Her cheeks flushed a little. “Thanks again for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
She glanced at the bag I was holding. “Do you want to come in?”
She led me to the family room and we sat on the couch. A short and stubby Douglas fir tree stood in the corner of the room, decorated with red and green paper chains and some candy canes. It smelled good. Like Christmas. The baby slept in a baby swing next to the couch.
“I’m Rae, by the way. I don’t think I ever told you my name.” I turned to look more closely at the baby. He looked so peaceful, his little eyes closed and his tiny red lips set in a dreamy almost-smile. “How’s he doing?”
She grinned. “He’s doing great. His dad is living here now, so he helps with the night feedings sometimes. He got a job, too, after school. A janitor at the hospital.” She paused. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Taking care of a baby, I mean.”
For some reason I thought of my mom. She’d been just a couple of years older than this girl when she’d taken care of me all by herself. My grandma probably helped sometimes, but she didn’t live with us. My mom never talked about those days. Maybe she wanted to forget about them.
“Well, I came by to wish you a merry Christmas.” I handed her the gift bag.
Maddie reached in and pulled out the CD. She studied the list of songs. “I love Christmas music. Thank you.” Then she looked up at me. “But I don’t have anything—”
“No!” I said, holding my hands out as I stood up. “Please don’t feel bad. You didn’t know I was coming. I just, I don’t know, sometimes I wish I had a big family. And since I don’t . . . ”
“You’re buying gifts for random strangers?” she teased.
I laughed. “But you’re not a random stranger! I mean, I know your name, right? Know where you live. Know you have the most adorable baby boy in the world. That makes us practically friends.”
“Hey, do you want to stay for a while? I was about to roll out some dough and bake some sugar cookies. I’d love some help. It’ll be fun.”
I agreed to stay, so we went into the kitchen. While Maddie pulled out a bag of flour from the cupboard, she asked, “Are you a junior or a senior?”
“Junior.”
She reached into a drawer and got the rolling pin. “Do you live around here?”
“Not far,” I said. “I actually lived in these apartments once. A long time ago.”
“You did? Too bad you don’t live here now. We’d be neighbors.” She wiped down the counter, then sprinkled flour all over it. “It’s hard, being here alone with Eli most of the time. My friends don’t come around much anymore. I guess I understand. What are they going to do, ask me to go party with them and have me bring him along?”
I didn’t know what to say. As hard as my life was sometimes, hers was probably ten times harder.
“What about your parents? Are they . . . supportive?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s got to be rough.”
“Do you get along with your mom?” she asked as she grabbed the bowl of cookie dough from the fridge.
I shrugged. “Some days we tolerate each other. Other days, not so much. We’re so different, you know?”
She set the bowl on the counter. “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”
I decided it was time to lighten the mood. “All right, let’s get this cookie party started!”
Maddie held up two cookie cutters. “Which one do you want? Santa or the lobster?”
“A Christmas lobster? I must have missed that television special when I was a kid.”
She laughed. “My aunt, who lives in Maine and has a weird sense of humor, sent it to me one year for my birthday. Sorry, but these are the only two I have.”
I took the lob
ster from her. “It’s actually perfect, because I’ve heard Santa loves lobster. Every year he asks Mrs. Claus to make a lobster dinner before he flies around the world. You’ve never heard that?”
“No. I thought Santa lived on fudge and sugar cookies.”
Now I laughed. “Just think, if we combine his favorites, lobster and cookies, he’ll be thrilled when he finds them Christmas Eve. He’ll probably give us a spectacular gift, like a diamond necklace or a sports car.”
She pretended to look shocked. “How did you get ahold of my Christmas list, Rae?”
• • •
After a fun afternoon, I left Maddie’s with a plate of cookies and drove to Ella’s. Her new place was nice. An old man in a wheelchair sat by the doors, looking outside. I smiled at him as I walked toward the front desk. A young woman with short hair greeted me. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said, looking behind her, at a bulletin board full of pictures showing the residents participating in activities like aerobics, music, and bingo. I hoped Ella was joining in and having fun. “I’m a friend of Ella’s. She moved in a week or so ago? Could I have her room number, please?”
“Yes. She’s in room two forty-two. Take the elevator to the second floor, and it’s down at the end of the hall.”
I thanked her and proceeded to Ella’s room. I knocked softly on her door. She answered almost right away.
“Rae! What a nice surprise.”
Behind her I could see the studio apartment that now served as her home. A twin bed was in the far corner, and in the middle of the room, her two La-Z-Boys and a television. Along the nearest wall, just past the door, which I assumed led to the bathroom, was a short counter with a couple of cupboards and a microwave. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had felt a little claustrophobic to her at first. And what about all of Ella’s books? Where’d they go?
“I brought you a present,” I said, handing her the gift bag.
When she pulled out the CD, she looked it over and then, honesty being one of Ella’s strong suits, said, “But I don’t have a CD player.”
Right. That was a problem. My mind whirred as I tried to figure out how to fix it.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No. I was actually about to head down to the dining hall.”
“Do they let you leave this place?”
“Well, sure,” she said. “It’s not a prison. We’re free to come and go.”
“Then grab your coat and let’s go have dinner. You can listen to the CD on the way.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m sure I can ask my son if I can borrow a CD player from him.”
“But I want to! We’ll go to King Kone and get two of their hamburgers to go. Along with fries and chocolate shakes, of course. They have the best shakes.”
At the word “shakes,” she licked her lips. She really did.
We didn’t say one word on the drive there, instead letting the Christmas music fill us up. When we pulled into the drive-through at King Kone, I ordered for both of us (Ella liked plain burgers too). After we got our food, the smell of greasy goodness seeping through the bag, I drove us up a hill and we parked. We ate our hamburgers and sipped on our shakes while the Christmas lights winked at us across the city.
“This is the best kind of gift, Rae. Thank you.” She paused. “Life should have more moments like this.” It made me so happy, I wanted to hug her, but I wasn’t sure if Ella was the hugging type. She continued, “ ‘Oh better than the minting of a gold-crowned king is the safe-kept memory of a lovely thing.’ ”
“I love that,” I whispered.
“Sara Teasdale,” she replied. “My favorite poet. From ‘The Coin,’ one of my favorite poems.”
Why didn’t it surprise me that Ella liked poetry? I ate my last fry. “After eighty-five years, you must have a lot of safe-kept memories.”
“Yes. I do. And now, thanks to you, Rae, I have another one.”
And then I watched as she closed her eyes and took a long drink of her milk shake, savoring it so much, when I took a drink of mine, it suddenly tasted better than any other shake I’d ever had.
merry christmas
MOM HAD WORKED CHRISTMAS EVE. I’D SAT IN MY ROOM ALL DAY, reading and writing poetry. Dean had borrowed my truck at some point, and when Mom came home, he still hadn’t come back. I didn’t feel like hearing her whine, so I’d gone to bed and pretended to be asleep. She’d opened the door and closed it right back up when she saw my light off.
I’d left the plate of cookies and the CD on the counter for my mother, and when I went out to the kitchen Christmas morning, I found them exactly as I’d left them. Well, if she wasn’t going to enjoy them, I would. I took them back to my room.
After I shut the door, I popped the CD into my computer and let the now-familiar music fill the room. Then I reached under my bed and pulled out the gift Spencer had given me.
“Merry Christmas, Rae,” I whispered as I sat on the floor and listened to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“Why, thank you,” I replied. “Same to you.”
I peeled back the paper slowly, wanting to prolong the moment. The paper gave way to a plain white box. I felt my heartbeat quicken in anticipation. Inside the box lay a knitted scarf, made of extra-soft yarn. The scarf was luxurious and warm, and such a gorgeous teal. It reminded me a little bit of a chenille bathrobe my grandma used to wear.
I wanted to call Spencer. I started searching for my phone just as Dean opened my door.
“What’s this?” he asked. I had to focus my eyes to see what he was waving in front of my face. Panic fell over me when I realized he had my bank statement. I scrambled to my feet. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
It felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath me. “Where’d you get that?”
“Found it tucked away in your glove box.”
I reached for the papers, but he held them behind his back. “Give that to me,” I said. “It’s not yours.”
“Well, yes, it is. If you want to keep living under this roof, you’ll hand it over. Monday we’ll be taking a little field trip to the bank when it opens. Understand?”
“I’m not going.” It came out almost like a growl.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, dangling my truck keys in front of me. “You want these back? It’s gonna cost you.” He glanced down at one of the papers. “Fourteen hundred and fifty-one dollars. I’ll let you keep the thirty-two cents, how’s that?”
I lunged at him, but Dean was too strong for me. He pushed me back, and I landed hard against my dresser.
I crumbled up into a ball on the floor, crying.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked, appearing in the doorway.
I looked up, trying to explain through the sobs. “Mom, please! Don’t let him take my savings. I worked hard for it. It’s mine!”
Mom looked at Dean and back at me.
“Don’t let him do it,” I begged.
Dean turned for the door. “I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?”
Mom’s sad eyes met mine. She started to say something, but Dean wasn’t gonna have any of that. “Joan?” he said through gritted teeth. She knew better than to piss him off any more than I already had.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’m coming.”
He headed down the hallway, giving her half a second to whisper, “Merry Christmas, Rae.” Mom reached into the pocket of her robe, pulled out a small package, and tossed it to me. And then she left, closing the door behind her.
I grabbed the box of candy I’d bought for her but hadn’t wrapped yet, and threw it against the door. The lid flew off and chocolates fell like dark rain, scattering everywhere.
I eyed the gift she’d given me, trying to decide how I felt about it. Then I picked up the package and threw it into the trash can by my desk. With nowhere to go and nothing left to do, I crawled into bed with my beautiful scarf wrapped
around my neck and cried.
poetry journal—december
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND YOU
When I hold a rose,
I see the soft, velvety petals
and smile, because
tucked between
those precious petals
is a special gift—
the one of a fragrance,
pure and sweet.
When you hold a rose,
you see the thorns
along the stem,
and you frown
because those thorns
can bring you pain
and cause you to bleed.
I see the gift.
You see the tragedy.
More and more
I fear that one of these days
someone will hand me a rose
and all I will see
are the thorns.
Talk about tragedy.
the hospital—4:21 p.m.
Circumstances shape who we are and who we become.
I believe that.
But I also believe we have choices.
There are always choices.
Even now, I can choose who to blame.
I can choose how to feel.
I can choose to hold on or let go.
“Rayanna, honey, I’m here.”
Mom strokes my hair.
It feels nice.
“You’re going into surgery now.”
“You have to stay strong. You’re going to be all right.”
She is choosing to believe that which makes her feel the best right now.
The thing about choices, though, is sometimes you choose wrong.
three months earlier
a revolution
WHEN I GOT TO THE BENCHES, EVERYONE HAD THEIR HEADS buried in the latest edition of the Crestfield High Review. I went to the rack and got a copy. Alix made room for me next to her on the bench.
Falling for You Page 12
