by J.J. Bonds
**********
“Why are we doing this again?” I ask, eyeing the street carolers warily. Their cheery rendition of Frosty the Snowman makes me want to turn and run.
“Because I need to get a Christmas present for Keegan.” Shaye speaks to me slowly as though reminding a small child of an important task. “Don’t you need to get something for Aldo?” she asks hopefully. “The holidays are right around the corner. This could be your last chance to shop.”
“What do you get the man who has everything? I wouldn’t even have the first idea of what to get him. Lissette will be easier.”
I used to love the holidays. Christmas cheer, the smell of freshly baked cookies, peace on Earth, and good will toward men. All of it. I’m not really feeling it this year though. I’m just relieved that Shaye wanted to come downtown and hit the specialty shops instead of going to the mall. The Rutland mall is downright dismal. I made the mistake of going there once for a pair of sneakers. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.
Strolling along the streets of downtown Rutland, I find it easy to push aside any feelings of nostalgia and focus on the task at hand. There’s very little here to remind me of home. The towns’ usual feeling of quaintness is exacerbated for the holidays. The city has strung colored lights all along the store fronts and street lamps. It’s probably quite pretty at night. As we navigate our way along the busy sidewalk, it’s clear I’m one of the few who hasn’t been swept up in the mood of the season.
“Bah humbug.”
“You must have some ideas?” Shaye whines. “What do you think Keegan would like?”
“How should I know? I can’t even figure out what to get Aldo. Or weren’t you listening?”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Where is your holiday cheer?” she sulks, throwing her gloved hands in the air and shaking her head in frustration. “This is supposed to be fun!” Apparently my lack of spirit is trying her patience. I feel a little guilty for ruining her fun, but I did warn her about my mood before we left. Still, she’d insisted on having company, and I agreed to make the best of it. I know I’m not keeping up my end of the deal.
“I’m going to check out the bookstore,” she tells me as we approach Amy’s. “Feel free to join me if you think you can fake some enthusiasm.”
“I’ll catch up,” I tell her halfheartedly. I watch as Shaye eagerly disappears into the dimly lit store. The bells on the door chime softly to announce her presence to the shop owner.
“Bah humbug,” I repeat taking a seat on the wooden bench out front of the store. I’ll pretend to be happier when Shaye returns, but for the time being I’m pleased to just be left alone with my acerbic mood. It’s not something I can explain to Shaye, but the looming holiday is just another sad reminder of my old life, of everything I’ve lost.
I watch as the humans scurry past, their breath clouding on the crisp air. Everyone is bundled up in their warmest winter clothing. It’s a rainbow of scarves, parkas, and beanies. I make a point of counting all of the hats with a pom-pom on top. Those were always my favorite as a child. I count seven of them before my game is interrupted by the squeals of a child.
I smile in spite of myself as a little boy charges past, his cheeks aglow from the bitter cold. He can’t be more than eight or nine years old. There’s a devilish gleam in his eye, as he runs by with his coat unzipped and his Spiderman scarf trailing behind. I see his mom further down the block laden with shopping bags. She’s given chase, but is no match for this boy on a mission.
“You stop at the corner Damian!” she shouts breathlessly. A wise warning as the street is thick with traffic today. The cars whiz past, most of them obeying the speed limit.
I return my attention to the boy, Damian, just in time to see him skidding to a halt on the corner no more than ten feet from where I sit. He didn’t stop soon enough. He slips on the ice and his momentum carries him forward, tumbling into the street. I’m off the bench before he hits the ground. He’s paralyzed with fear as he stares down the bumper of an approaching F-150. His eyes grow as wide as saucers and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream, but he doesn’t make a sound.
Lucky for Damian I grab the back of his jacket and yank him back to safety as the truck barrels past, leaving us in a plume of exhaust. The stench of burning rubber is in the air. The driver had tried to stop, but he never would have been able to. The truck slows but continues down the road. Crisis averted. The driver has decided to keep going. He’s probably just as scared and relieved as Damian. Hell, as scared and relieved as myself.
I know it’s only been a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity has passed. I can’t even think about what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to get to him in time.
Damian and I stand there staring at one another gravely, both in shock. His mother sidles past me and throws her arms around the boy. She’s dropped her packages several feet short of where we stand. She probably threw them when she saw her child in danger.
“Oh, thank goodness! Are you okay?” she wails. “Don’t you ever do that again!” The boy doesn’t have to say anything. He knows how lucky he is to have avoided a disastrous outcome and the wrath of his mother. Tears well up in his eyes, and she hugs him again. Poor kid. She’s holding him so tight I doubt he can catch a breath. A new wave of sadness washes over me as I watch them. When I turn to leave, Damian’s mother grabs my hand.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she gushes. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you! You saved my son’s life.”
“It was nothing really,” I tell her modestly, pulling my hand free of her grasp and shoving it in my pocket. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”
A crowd has started to gather. Everyone’s Christmas shopping is put on momentary hold to see what all the fuss is about. People start patting me on the arm, telling me what a wonderful thing I’ve done, how I saved the boy’s life. I need to get out of here. Where the hell is Shaye?
I politely excuse my way through the crowd. Just as I reach for the door of the bookstore it bursts open, and Shaye and I are reunited to the clanging of the bells. I grab her arm and abruptly steer her in the other direction, away from the commotion on the corner.
“Where are we going? What’s the rush?” She’s confused but doesn’t resist. Shaye doesn’t seem to mind being dragged along, as she’s mistaken my anxious retreat for shopping enthusiasm. “I found a gift for Keegan by the way. A journal. It’s perfect!”
I’m certain the incident on the corner will be quickly forgotten. I’m certain that no one was watching me before I grabbed the boy. All eyes were on him, just as mine were. Still, I don’t want to stick around and answer questions. I’m no hero, that’s for sure. Saving that boy’s life is only one checkmark on a very lopsided balance sheet.
I slow my pace as we turn the corner. Shaye continues to babble on about the journal and pulls it from her shopping bag so that I, too, can admire the wonderful gift. I have to admit it’s nice. It’s got a soft leather cover and a heavy strap which wraps around the book to bind it closed. It’s a far cry from the modern crap sold at most stores. The journal is reminiscent of the sort that would have been used by our ancestors.
“And look!” She opens the cover so that I can inspect the interior. “There’s a spot inside the front cover where I can write a personal inscription. I just have to make sure I don’t screw it up.” She laughs musically, and I feel the tension begin to slide out of my body.
“It’s nice,” I tell her. “Keegan is going to love it.” I’m pretty sure he’d love anything Shaye gave him, but this really is a thoughtful and special gift.
“What about you? Did you figure out what to get for Aldo and Lissette yet?”
“Actually, I did.” We stop in front of the jewelry store. I’m relieved to see that the item I want is still displayed in the window. We’d passed it earlier when we parked the car. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but after the incide
nt with the boy I’m now sure it’s the right gift. “That’s it,” I tell her pointing.
“The picture frame? That is such a good idea. I wish I’d thought of that!” she says enviously. “Oh, well. It would be too risky for Keegan to keep a photo of us on display anyway.”
I squeeze her hand sympathetically. It has to be hard keeping the relationship a secret. But if anyone found out about it, Keegan would be banished from the school immediately. In light of being separated, secrecy seems the better option.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward the entrance. “Better get it before someone else comes along and snatches it up.”
This is what I love about Shaye. Nothing keeps her down. She may envy my taste in gifts, but I envy her character.
“Welcome! What can I do for you little ladies today?” asks the salesman as we enter the store. I dislike him immediately. He has a patronizing air about him and is wearing an ugly brown suit the color of mud. It matches his personality perfectly.
I’ve always hated places like this where the salespeople judge you immediately based on appearance. I contemplate leaving, but know I can’t go without the frame. I have to have it no matter what the cost.
“We’d like to see the frame in the window,” I tell him boldly. “The silver one.”
“Well, that’s a pretty expensive item,” he says, not bothering to hide his condescending attitude. “We have some smaller frames on the wall over there that might be more to your liking.” He doesn’t want to waste his time showing me things I can’t afford to buy. I get that, but I’m not here to waste my time either.
“I’m sure those are nice too, but I want the one in the window.” I’m firm, but polite. Shaye rolls her eyes, as the salesman turns to fetch the object of my desire. I mouth the word asshole and she giggles.
“Here you are then,” he says in a bored voice as he hands me the frame.
It’s heavier than I’d imagined, but I’m pleased by this discovery. I run my fingers over the frame tracing the ornate pattern etched on its face. I try to visualize what picture I’ll put in it; definitely one from my digital photo album. My old life. I was so much happier then, more fulfilled. I know that Aldo went to great personal risk to save the images and that he will be pleased to have one for himself.
“I’ll take it.”
“That will be two hundred and ninety seven dollars plus tax,” he tells me. He still thinks I can’t afford the purchase. “How will you be paying today?”
“Cash,” I tell him sweetly, laying it on thick. “Oh, and can you be a doll and wrap it up for me too?”