Icy Sparks

by Gwyn Hyman Rubio

  “He’s had another b.m.,” Tiny moaned.

  “Phew!” Wilma pinched her nose. “He should eat in his room like Gordie.”

  “But he’s not Gordie,” Maizy cut in. “He means no harm.” Quickly, she twisted around and popped a fingerful of toast into the Mouth’s mouth, who in turn vacuumed it in. “See!” Maizy pointed at Mary’s pink gums and four pointed teeth. “If you keep food in her mouth, she’s all right.”

  “That’s it!” I yelled, leaping up, waving a carton of milk over my head. “This ain’t nothing but a madhouse!” I screamed, the milk frothing rage in the air. “I hate it here. If you think you can make me stay, you’re dead wrong!” With these final words, I threw down my milk carton and marched out the door, my feet tingling with fury.

  “You’ll enjoy it,” Maizy insisted. “I’ll glue black yarn on your face. It’ll look just like a beard. And you’ll wear a cone-shaped hat, made out of bright yellow tinfoil. Delbert has contributed his red satin bathrobe ’cause he’s gained so much weight, and I’ll hem it up. You know, shorten it to fit you. You’ll look just like a wise man.”

  “But I don’t want to be a wise man,” I whined. “I want to be Icy Sparks; I want to be back home for Christmas with my grandparents.”

  “Icy,” Maizy said firmly, “we can’t control that. The doctors have already said no. But we can control what kind of Christmas you have here. If you don’t try, you’ll make yourself even more miserable.”

  “Let someone else do it,” I said. “Let Wilma be a wise man. She’s got a mustache.”

  “Wilma’s playing the Virgin Mary,” Maizy said.

  “I thought the Virgin Mary was pretty,” I said. “Not ugly as homemade sin.”

  Maizy took one step back. “Icy Sparks!” Both hands clutched her hips. “I’ve never heard you be deliberately mean.”

  I screwed up my face. “Then you haven’t heard the real me,” I said.

  “A person can’t help how she looks,” Maizy said.

  I glanced sideways at her. “You know that old saying?” I asked.

  “Which one?” she said.

  “Pretty is as pretty does.”

  Maizy glared at me.

  “Well, in Wilma’s case, it’s ugly is as ugly does.”

  The muscles in Maizy’s neck grew taut; she thrust out her jaw. “Icy, I’m disappointed in you,” she said coldly.

  “Don’t that beat all!” I said defiantly, holding my head up high. “You hate Wilma as much as I do,” I said, raising my voice, scowling, “but you won’t admit it. Wilma’s right. You ain’t nothing but a Goody Two Shoes.”

  At once, the fire left Maizy’s eyes. She looked down at her feet and sighed. “I didn’t realize how much you dislike me.”

  “I didn’t know you liked Wilma better than me!”

  “I don’t,” she answered, then turned around and left.

  For two days, I sulked. Christmas felt like it belonged to everybody else, not me. In the dayroom, I sat by myself. When Maizy greeted me, I refused to say hello. If Wilma passed nearby, I pretended she wasn’t there. Even Delbert, who had done nothing, received the same treatment. Once, while I was eating, Dr. Conroy came over and placed her hand on my shoulder. Since she was the one I most hated, I sneered at her and shrugged contemptuously. Slowly shaking her head, she walked away.

  I sank into the rut of feeling bad. There was no other way to feel. Anger turned into depression. My secrets had cut me off from Christmas, my grandparents, and Miss Emily. That poison part of me had attached secrecy to everything. When Miss Emily didn’t visit, I had decided that she secretly hated me. When Maizy defended Wilma, I reasoned that all along she had secretly liked the woman. Feeling low—sinking down further and further—became easier than lifting myself up. Depression grew comfortable and familiar. Not only did my sadness affect me, but it also took a toll on the others. Whenever Maizy brought over a deck of cards and asked sprightly, “Want to play rummy?” I’d relish the urgency in her eyes. Lowering my head, I’d refuse to look at her. Concerned, she’d try again, “Just one game?” After which I’d mumble some insult and feel vindicated. Then I’d sit in my room the rest of the day. If I heard footsteps in the hallway, I’d strike a pose of indifference. My resolve to make everyone, including myself, miserable amazed me. So intent was I on fulfilling this task that impulses to tic, croak, jerk, and curse just disappeared, as though I had never felt them. If I couldn’t have a Merry Christmas at home, then—by damn—no one would have a Merry Christmas here.

  Yet after two days, the staff’s concern began dropping off. At first, I noticed little lapses. Maizy would see me in the dayroom but would just walk by, not saying a word. Dr. Conroy would nod hello. When I didn’t nod back, she’d smile, cheerily say, “Good day,” then continue on her rounds.

  Wilma, who was never worried about me, was now blatantly irritated. “Poor pitiful Pearl,” she snarled.

  Delbert, too, dismissed me. No longer did he tease me. Instead, he joked with Maizy, held mistletoe above her head, and kissed her every chance he got.

  Feeling bad began to feel really bad, even worse than I’d imagined.

  Sitting by myself in the dayroom, I studied the smiling faces around me—Maizy singing “Jingle Bells,” Delbert sucking on a candy cane, Dr. Conroy wearing a jeweled Christmas tree brooch, Tiny sporting Santa’s stocking cap, Wilma tenderly caressing her fat belly—and I couldn’t stand myself a minute longer. “Delbert,” I said with forced gaiety, “who are you going to be in the Christmas play?”

  He ignored me and, turning to Maizy, said, “Maizy, darling, I want you to be the angel on the top of my tree.”

  Maizy giggled. “Only if you’ll be my star,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Are you playing Santa Claus?” I asked Tiny.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he roared, stomping over to Dr. Conroy, retrieving a candy cane from his front shirt pocket, and with a flair giving it to her.

  Dr. Conroy smiled and waved the candy cane like a wand. “Thank you, Santa,” she said, curtsying to everyone—everyone, that is, but me. “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good day!” she said grandly before waving good-bye at the door.

  “Merry Christmas!” they all said, waving back.

  But I was too busy eyeing Tiny. “Ain’t Santa gonna give me one?” I asked.

  Tiny took no notice of me. Instead, he approached Wilma and gently pressed a candy cane into her palm.

  “Really!” I said, indignantly, looking at candy canes protruding from their mouths. “Where’s the Christmas spirit?”

  “The last candy cane goes to…it goes to…” Tiny said, dramatically lifting a candy cane over his head. “Goes to our angel, Miss Maizy—a true Christmas spirit!”

  “Humbug!” I snorted.

  Maizy deliberately approached me holding the candy cane in front of her. She was walking so slowly she seemed to be floating like a sleepwalker. “An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream,” she said, with her eyes glazed over. “And the angel said, ‘Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call His name JESUS.’”

  “‘For He shall save His people from their sins,’” I quoted.

  Maizy narrowed her eyes. “But Herod, the king, was jealous,” she said, slapping her hands together.

  Tiny jumped. “Tell us why!” he said.

  “Because,” Maizy responded, “wise men from the East came to him asking, ‘Where is He that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the east, and are come to worship Him.’ This made Herod furious, so he ordered the wise men to find baby Jesus and let him know where his rival was.”

  I lowered my voice and began quoting again, “‘Go and search diligently for the young child,’ Herod commanded. ‘And when ye have found Him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship Him also.’” I stopped, quickly looked around, and saw that all of them—Mai
zy, Tiny, Delbert, and even Wilma—were listening. I raised high my voice, threw out my arms, and dramatically pushed on, “‘And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.’”

  “In Bethlehem of Judea,” Maizy broke in.

  “‘When they saw the star,’” I recited, “‘they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary His mother, and fell down, and worshiped Him.’” Smiling broadly, I tossed back my head and caught my breath.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, Icy!” Delbert joked.

  “‘And when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way,’” I finished, remembering the verses that Matanni had taught me.

  “That was beautiful!” Maizy said.

  “What’s that stuff, Frankie’s scent?” Delbert asked.

  “Something that smells good,” I answered.

  “Gordie’s bringing myrrh,” Tiny said.

  “That’s a perfume,” I said knowingly.

  “You know a lot for a kid,” Tiny said, winking.

  “Not how to get a candy cane,” I replied.

  “I reckon you’ve earned one now,” Maizy said. “You did real good.”

  “Thank you,” I said, peeling back the wrapper. “I get a lot of practice. Matanni likes me to quote from Matthew every Christmas Eve.” Shoving the candy inside my smile, I waited for more compliments, but they didn’t come. Instead, Tiny turned around, looped his arm through Maizy’s, and along with Wilma and Delbert started to walk away. “Hey!” I hollered, pink saliva drooling from the corners of my mouth. “What does a person have to do to be a wise man around here?”

  “Did you say wise guy or wise man?” Delbert asked over his shoulder.

  “We’re having our first rehearsal tomorrow,” Maizy chimed in. “Be there!”

  Chapter 23

  “I hear Dr. Lambert’s a tough critic,” Delbert said as he put his hands on my shoulders and positioned me before an imaginary Virgin Mary.

  “Where’s Wilma?” I asked. “Ain’t she gonna rehearse with us, or is she counting on God to inspire her?”

  “Icy!” I glanced over my shoulder. Maizy was frowning. “What’s your problem? Poor Wilma can’t seem to keep anything down. She’s not feeling well, that’s all.”

  “Well, she best start,” I said matter-of-factly. “Now that she’s eating for two.”

  Maizy flinched. “How did you find out?” she asked.

  “I’ve heard all of you whispering.”

  “Ain’t it amazing!” Delbert said, shaking his head.

  I rolled back my eyes. “It’s weird,” I said, rolling them again. “I didn’t know the ole dirt dauber was married. She ain’t nothing but a wasp with a sting. And she’s got that nasty mustache kinda looks like a clump of dirt smeared clear across her face.”

  Running his finger above his lip, Delbert grinned.

  Maizy made a scene of stomping her foot. Then she tossed back her head and giggled. “Icy Sparks, without a doubt, the Christmas Spirit has passed you over.”

  “How come you’re always getting on me?” I pouted.

  “Why do you think?” she asked.

  “’Cause I say out loud what you might be thinking,” I said.

  “Sometimes it’s best to keep your thoughts to yourself,” Maizy replied.

  “That don’t cut no ice with me,” I argued.

  “Well, it should,” she objected. “Your life would be easier if it did.”

  “Well—” I began.

  But Tiny intervened. Winking at me, he slapped Delbert’s back. “We best get to work,” he said.

  I was getting into my role, transforming myself into a wise old sage, when, ashen-faced and wobbly, Wilma appeared.

  “Howdy,” Delbert and Tiny said.

  “You don’t look so good,” said Maizy in a concerned voice.

  Wilma smiled weakly. “I want to go over my lines,” she said. “Just once, to make sure I know what to do.”

  I attempted to smile back.

  “Well,” Maizy said, cradling her arms. “It’s not too much to remember. When the play begins, you’ll be carrying a life-sized doll.” She looked at Wilma. “Just like this,” she said, rocking her arms. “When the three wise men come up, all you have to do is hold out your arms. ‘This is the baby Jesus,’ you say. Right after the word Jesus, Icy, Tiny, and Gordie—”

  Tiny interrupted, “I do the talkin’ for Gordie.”

  “Right.” Maizy nodded. “Then, they say their lines and end with ‘We Three Kings.’ Last, you put baby Jesus in His manger and sing ‘Silent Night’ with the rest of us.”

  Wilma put her hands on her stomach. “That’s easy enough,” she said.

  I glanced over at Maizy, took one step forward, and in a loud voice said, “I’m the wise man bringing frankincense.”

  “And I’ll be singing ‘Silent Night,’ too,” Maizy said.

  “Dressed in a long white robe,” Delbert tossed in.

  “Holding up a stick with a big silver star on top,” Maizy said.

  “The eastern star,” I added proudly.

  Wilma turned away from me. “What’s your role?” she asked Tiny.

  “I’m the wise man with the gold,” he said. “Plus I gotta watch out for Gordie. He’s got the myrrh.”

  “And I’m the wise man with the frankincense,” I stressed again.

  “And what about you?” Wilma asked Delbert.

  “I’m the peacekeeper,” he said. “I make sure everything goes smoothly.”

  “Good,” Wilma said, gently rubbing her stomach, trying on sweetness for the moment.

  The Sunshine Building buzzed. A joyful energy whipped through me, and I decided that if the Christmas spirit had been passing me over, it wasn’t passing me over today. Even my fingertips tingled with possibility. Maizy and Delbert had hung an evergreen branch, sporting a big red ribbon, above the door to the dayroom. A white linen tablecloth covered the dining room table, and three red candles in glass lanterns were strategically placed along its top. To the left of the bookcase by the door, a spruce fir was decorated with lights, tinsel, and about two dozen red and gold ornaments. The sofas had been moved out and stored away so that Delbert and Tiny could transform the empty space into a stage. Hay, from Tiny’s parents’ farm in Winchester, was scattered across the floor, and the manger, an old antique flour bin which belonged to Tiny’s aunt, stood in the center of the hay. On one side of the manger, cardboard cutouts of farm animals, which Ace had painted, were propped up.

  At five in the afternoon, Maizy grabbed my hand. “Come on,” she ordered. “It’s makeup time. I’m gonna make you look nice.”

  “But I ain’t supposed to look nice.”

  “Authentic, then,” she said.

  “Did you bring the yarn, the robe, everything?”

  “Everything,” she said, pulling me along, through the door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. On the floor next to the sink was a brown paper bag which she put on the seat of an old metal chair pushed against the wall. Next she stuck her arm deep into the bag, jostled her hand around, and, with a flourish, pulled out the red satin robe.

  “Maizy, we’re wasting time,” I whined. “Remember, Delbert showed me my costume?”

  She draped the robe over the back of the chair and stuck her hand in again. This time, she brought forth the golden, cone-shaped crown. “It’s magic,” she said, holding the crown high above her head.

  “Maizy, I’ve already seen it.” Impatiently, I tapped my left foot against the floor.

  Unhurriedly, Maizy set the crown on the metal shelf above the sink and, before I could utter another word, dug her arm even farther into the bag. “Now, what do you think I’ve found?” she asked.

  Nervously, I picked at my cuticles
. “I don’t know,” I said, peevishly, “but—”

  She cut me off. “Abracadabra!” she squealed. Out came two crimson velvet slippers, the toes of which curled up. “Abracadabra!” she squealed again. Up rose a mass of black curly hair. “Royal slippers and a real, honest-to-goodness beard,” she exclaimed.

  “Dag nab!” I said. “It’s a miracle!”

  Outside, three inches of snow covered the earth. Tiny was inside, helping Gordie put on his costume; so I stood by myself in the cold, thirty-degree weather and waited for my cue.

  For two days, I’d been rehearsing in front of my floor-length bathroom mirror. Because I wanted to know exactly what frankincense was, I’d looked it up in the dictionary. “Aromatic gum resin,” it said. I didn’t just want to play a wise man; I wanted to be a wise man. When I walked upon the stage, I wanted everyone to smell the frankincense in the palm of my hand; and, when I sang “We Three Kings” with the others, I wanted my voice—alone—to be heard.

  Jittery, I cracked the knuckles on my left hand, then on my right. I tugged at my beard and grabbed the lapels of my coat. The minute Delbert showed his head, I was ready to remove my coat and toss it into the box beside the door. I swallowed five mouthfuls of air, drew a circle in the snow with my red velvet slipper, and tried to get into character. “I’m a wise man from the Far East,” I whispered. “I’m a king of the Orient looking for the baby Jesus.” Edging my hand against my eyebrow, I pretended to be searching. “I have a gift for Him.” Like a flower blossoming, I unfolded my fingers. “Frankincense,” I said under my breath, “for the newborn—” Someone grunted loudly behind me. Abruptly, I turned around.

  “Slow down, Gordie!” Tiny said, pulling on the boy’s arm. “They ain’t ready for us yet.”

  “Land sakes!” I exclaimed. “I’m glad you’re here!” My teeth chattered. “I’ve been rehearsing, getting nervous, thinking Delbert would poke out his head and you and Gordie wouldn’t be here, and I’d have to do all three parts myself.” My toes tingled and burned. “I mean, my knees are knocking. And not just from the cold.” I stomped each foot into the snow. “From fear. Plain old stage fright.” I wrapped my arms around myself and hopped up and down. “Yessir, I was about to get wilder than a March hare in mating season.”