Clementine for Christmas

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  “So this dog is yours?” Oscar asked. He’d started petting the dog on her head, but she wiggled around until he was scratching behind her ears, which she seemed to really like. Her tongue was out as she panted happily, licking his hand every now and again as if to tell him to keep on scratching.

  Josie’s face softened as she gazed at the dog. “Yeah, that’s Clementine,” she said. But then her eyes narrowed. “And she helps out with patients a lot more than you do.”

  Oscar scowled at her.

  “Whatever, I’m going to get dressed,” Josie said. She disappeared into the closet.

  Oscar sat down on the sofa and settled Clementine on his lap. She was warm and her weight felt just right. For the first time in days Oscar’s insides unclenched just the littlest bit. He rubbed Clementine’s velvety ears and leaned back with a sigh.

  A few minutes later, Josie appeared wearing a reindeer outfit that included a big red bow under her chin and a pair of jingle bell–covered antlers. In other words, looking completely ridiculous.

  Clearly she didn’t see it that way, though. She stood in front of the mirror adjusting the antlers at a jaunty angle. When she had it right she picked up a red-and-green leash from the table and called Clementine, who hopped off Oscar’s lap. His legs felt cold now that she was gone.

  “So what are you going to do?” Josie asked again, like a song stuck on repeat.

  But then Oscar had a flash of inspiration. “I can walk Clementine around to visit with patients while you sing and stuff,” Oscar said. It was the perfect solution: Josie could do the embarrassing stuff while he stood in the background and let people pet Clementine.

  But Josie’s mouth was all scrunched up like she’d just bitten into a crab apple. “I can do that,” she said.

  But then the little dog barked and walked toward Oscar as far as the leash would allow.

  “She likes you,” Josie said, sounding more stunned than Oscar cared for.

  “She has good taste,” he informed her.

  “Fine,” Josie said with a sigh. “You can take her around when we visit with the kids today. But next time you have to sing or do a skit with me.”

  There was no way Oscar was going to agree to that, but Josie handed over the leash without waiting for him to reply and led the way out of the volunteer room.

  “Hi, Josie,” said a woman holding the leash of a small fuzzy dog who stopped to sniff Clementine.

  “Hi, Eliza,” Josie said. “This is Oscar.” Her voice was a lot less enthusiastic as she said his name. “He’s volunteering here, too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Oscar,” Eliza said with a warm smile. “This is Jeremy. We come in twice a week to visit.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Oscar said, rubbing his foot on the smooth linoleum floor.

  “I was wondering,” Josie said to Eliza. “Can you be in the Christmas Festival this year? Everyone loved it last year when you and your husband performed that carol medley.”

  “Oh, I wish we could, but we’re going to the Caribbean for the holidays this year,” Eliza said. “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  “Thanks, anyway,” Josie said, her shoulders sagging in the billowy reindeer outfit. Clearly she was disappointed, but Oscar wasn’t going to be asking anything about it. The last thing he wanted was for Josie to try to rope him into performing. “And I hope you have a great time.”

  “Thanks,” Eliza said. She gave them a small wave and led Jeremy into a patient’s room.

  As Oscar and Josie walked down the hall, nearly everyone greeted Josie. Oscar couldn’t help thinking again how different she was here than at school. Part of it was obviously the costumes—she really stuck out with all the bells and bright colors. But she was also a lot louder around the ward. Maybe here it didn’t matter if you were a total weirdo, the way it did at school, so Josie saved it all up for her time volunteering.

  Clementine walked beside him, allowing people to pat her or ruffle her ears as they went by. He could really understand why the hospital had started the dog visiting program. Everyone seemed happy to see Clementine.

  “Are you coming to visit us today?” a little boy asked, running up to Josie. He looked about five and seemed way too healthy to be in a hospital.

  Josie bent down to give him a hug. “Hi, Henry,” she said. “We just have one room to visit first and then we’ll come see you and Melanie.”

  “Good,” the little boy said, tugging on Josie’s antlers. “Everyone’s boring and quiet today.”

  “Well, we’ll come by and make some noise to help your sister feel better,” Josie said.

  So it was his sister, and not Henry, who was sick. That made more sense.

  “Come see me, too,” Henry said.

  “Of course we want to see you, too,” Josie said, giving him another quick squeeze.

  Henry ran back down the hall, and Josie turned into the room on their left, with Oscar following reluctantly behind. This room, like all the others Oscar had seen so far, had two beds with a curtain between them, a mural on the opposite wall, and a window that looked out onto the parking lot. A toddler was sitting in the first bed, and Josie went right over to her. Oscar stood in the doorway until Josie looked back, then gestured furiously that he should go to the next bed.

  Oscar walked as slowly as he could, but it wasn’t exactly a long walk. On the other side of the curtain, he saw a girl sitting on the bed, her left leg wrapped up tight and a book in her hands. She looked about seven or eight, and as soon as she saw Clementine, she dropped her book.

  “Here, doggy-dog,” she called, patting the bed next to her.

  “Um, I think maybe you need a sheet or something,” Oscar mumbled as Clementine jumped right up on the bed and cuddled in next to the girl.

  Oh, well, it wasn’t Oscar’s fault if she didn’t follow the rules. He shifted from one foot to the other, wondering what he was supposed to be doing while the girl hugged Clementine. The room was overheated, and he was getting sweaty in his thick fleece pullover.

  “What’s the dog’s name?” the girl asked.

  Oscar cleared his throat. “She’s Clementine, and I’m Oscar,” he said.

  “Like Oscar the Grouch,” the girl said cheerfully.

  Behind him, Josie burst out laughing. Oscar turned to glare at her. Being called Oscar the Grouch wasn’t exactly new or original, and it always irritated him.

  But Josie was laughing too hard to notice as she made her way over to them. “Yeah, that’s the perfect nickname for Oscar,” she told the girl. “And I’m Josie. What’s your name?”

  “Alison,” the girl said.

  “Why are you here?” Josie asked.

  Oscar had wondered if they were allowed to ask about that, but Josie sounded matter-of-fact, like it was no big deal.

  “I tore something in my knee in gymnastics class,” Alison said. “I have to have surgery to fix it, and then I’ll be coming in for physical therapy. Can I visit Clementine then, too? My mom is allergic to dogs, so we can’t get one, but I love playing with them.”

  As though she understood, Clementine reached up and licked Alison on her chin.

  Josie grinned. “You can definitely see her when you come in. She’d love that.”

  Alison beamed as she scratched Clementine behind the ears. The dog pressed her head against Alison’s hand and wagged her short curly tail.

  A moment later, a man and woman walked in carrying take-out cartons from Danny’s Diner and a bag from Fairy Land Bookstore.

  “Mom and Dad, this is Clementine,” Alison bubbled. “And Josie and Oscar.”

  Alison was black while her parents were white, but after considering it Oscar guessed she must have been adopted.

  “Nice to meet you,” Alison’s mom said as her dad set the cartons and books on the table by Alison’s bed.

  “You too,” Josie said. “Do you need me to take the dog out? Alison said you were allergic.”

  Oscar had already forgotten about that, but Alison’s mom ju
st smiled. “Thanks, but I prepared and took my allergy pill,” she said. “I want Alison to get her puppy time.”

  Alison grinned as Clementine snuggled in even closer.

  “Want me to sing you some Christmas carols?” Josie asked.

  Alison seemed too old for singing, but she surprised Oscar by nodding eagerly. “ ‘O Holy Night’ is my favorite. Do you know that one?”

  “Yes, and I love it,” Josie said. And then she opened her mouth and began to sing. The other day she had only been singing silly songs, so this was the first time Oscar heard her sing for real. And the sound of it stunned him. Her voice soared, rich and sweet, and a hush fell over the room as everyone stopped to take it in.

  There was a moment of quiet when she finished, and then Alison, her parents, the parents of the toddler in the next bed, and even some people who had stopped to listen in the hall, burst into applause. Oscar had to admit, at least to himself, that Josie’s voice was amazing. And no doubt she would be all full of herself about it now.

  But instead her cheeks turned nearly as red as her ridiculous bow, and she waved off the attention. “Now let’s sing something together,” she told Alison, who agreed as she looked at Josie adoringly.

  The two of them sang a few songs, with Alison’s parents joining in, too. Then Josie said it was time for them to leave.

  “Good luck with your surgery,” she told Alison.

  “Yeah, good luck,” Oscar echoed, glad they were done. He gave Clementine’s leash a little tug, and the dog jumped obediently off the bed and followed him out of the room.

  “Don’t be afraid to ask the kids questions,” Josie said as they walked to another room.

  Oscar didn’t want to ask questions and he certainly didn’t appreciate being told what to do. “I know,” he said shortly.

  Josie glared at him, which just looked absurd with her antlers sticking out like wild antennae. It was kind of hard to believe that someone who looked so outlandish could sing so well.

  “How’s it going?” Ed asked as he came out of the room beside them.

  “Okay,” Josie said. “I think we might go see Melanie next.”

  The elf shook his head. “We stopped by before and her mom said she’s not feeling up for any visits besides family today.”

  Josie sunk down a bit in her costume. “That’s rough. Henry’s going to be disappointed.”

  Ed nodded and then headed down the hall.

  Josie seemed lost in thought but didn’t say anything, and a moment later she led them into a room a few doors down. This one held only one bed, and Oscar could see that it was special, with a bar overhead with some kind of pulley and triangle thing hanging from it. There was a wheelchair next to the bed, and a little girl was propped up on pillows. Her arms were turned up, and Oscar could see that her knees were bent at a sharp angle under the sheet. She broke out into a huge smile when she saw Josie and Clementine.

  “Hi, Rosie,” Josie said.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” Rosie said, her words slightly slurred but understandable. She looked like she was about five.

  “I’m glad to see you,” Josie said. “Though I’m sorry you’re back in the hospital.”

  “Actually, it’s for a good reason this time,” said Rosie’s mom, who was sitting on the other side of the bed. “Rosie is getting a hip operation so she can sit more comfortably. It’s been known to help a lot of kids who have cerebral palsy like Rosie.”

  “I might even be able to walk,” Rosie said eagerly. Then she looked at Oscar. “Who’s he?”

  “This is Oscar, like Oscar the Grouch,” Josie said cheerfully. “He’s going to work in the hospital, too.”

  “Why is he dressed so boring?” Rosie asked.

  “That’s a great question,” Josie said, her eyes bright as she glanced over at Oscar. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Oscar’s face was hot and he wanted to snap at Josie, but of course he couldn’t, not in front of Rosie. “Ah, I’m like Superman,” he said. “Sometimes I have to dress like a normal person, but really it’s a disguise.” Oscar hoped that would be enough to satisfy Rosie and that Josie would start singing or tap-dancing or whatever.

  But Rosie’s gaze stayed on Oscar. “Who are you really?” she whispered, like it was top secret information.

  Oscar wasn’t into make-believe, but the way Rosie looked at him, like he might actually be some kind of superhero, swept Oscar up in the moment. He glanced toward the door, as if checking for anyone listening in, then came closer to the bed so that he could lean down and whisper in Rosie’s ear. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  Rosie nodded, her face solemn.

  “I’m Santa’s top-secret super spy,” he said.

  “What do you do?” Rosie whispered. Oscar noticed that her mom was smiling.

  “I’m like Santa’s number one scout,” Oscar said. “Santa sends me out to meet with kids, to decide who gets a lot of gifts, who should get a lump of coal, stuff like that.”

  “Wow,” Rosie said, her voice filled with awe. “What are you going to tell him about me?”

  “That you’re one of the best kids out there,” Oscar told her.

  Rosie beamed. Clementine put her paws up on the side of Rosie’s bed and yipped, immediately taking Rosie’s attention. Rosie’s mom and Josie helped settle Clementine on the sheet, leaving Oscar to consider what had happened. He certainly didn’t plan to put on a show for all the kids—it was better when Josie did the work and he lurked in the background. But he had to admit it felt good to make Rosie so happy. When Josie started singing a spirited version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” Oscar found himself almost tapping his foot along.

  But the second they were out in the hall, Josie spun on her heel and stared him down. “I’m done having you stand around doing nothing while I perform,” she told him. “You know how it works now, so you have to start doing something, too.”

  And just like that every bit of irritation Oscar had felt toward Josie came rushing back, along with the sharp bitterness of his parents’ fight that he’d managed to push aside. “Not going to happen.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “You have to,” Josie insisted.

  “Who’s going to make me?” Oscar asked tauntingly.

  Josie opened her mouth, closed it, then grabbed Clementine’s leash and strode down the hall without looking back.

  Oscar followed, hating that he had to, hating that he was here instead of at basketball, hating the stupid Christmas carols he could hear one of the elves singing in a room nearby, hating the fact that when this ended he would be stuck going home to his parents who were no doubt still arguing.

  In fact, right now Oscar hated just about everything.

  “How’d you do on the math test this morning?” Aisha asked Gabby as they walked toward the cafeteria. Even though they were still around the corner, Gabby could smell the meat loaf. It was a dish she usually enjoyed, but today the smell was making her slightly nauseous.

  “Okay, I think,” Gabby said, trying to focus on the conversation. There was a heaviness in her body that had been there when she’d woken up, and just walking down the hall felt like work. She must not have slept well because right now all she wanted was to take a nap.

  “Hey, guys,” Becky said, slightly breathless from having run to catch up to them. “Gabby, are you going to yearbook today?”

  “Yes,” Gabby said. She didn’t enjoy yearbook that much, but she felt it was important to be involved in at least one extracurricular activity. And yearbook was easy.

  “Good,” Becky said. “It’s always more fun when you’re there.” She rubbed her belly as they neared the cafeteria doors. “I’m starving. I can’t wait to get some of that meat loaf.”

  “Ew, you eat that?” Aisha asked, scrunching up her nose.

  “It’s good,” Becky said defensively.

  “I love the meat loaf,” Gabby said, slightly distracted by the headache that was beginning to tap at her tem
ples.

  “You would,” Aisha said with a little laugh. “Hey, are you guys going out for basketball?”

  “I don’t really have time,” Gabby lied. She’d like to play basketball, but she was staying away from sports for reasons she would not be explaining to Aisha or anyone else at school.

  “It’s a drag how you have to babysit your brothers all the time,” Aisha said. “You miss all the good stuff.”

  Gabby bit back a sharp reply. Luis and Paco were eight-year-old twins, and Gabby loved hanging out with them. They played silly games they made up together, like Zombie Attack and Dragon Tag. For a moment, Gabby imagined what Aisha would think if she could see Gabby in her embroidered jeans and sequined sweaters roaring and flapping her arms dragon-style as she chased both boys down the hall of their small apartment.

  “I don’t mind,” Gabby said as they joined the throng of students heading into the cafeteria. “But you should go out for basketball. I bet it will be really fun.”

  “I will if you will,” Becky said hopefully to Aisha.

  Aisha shrugged. “Maybe,” she said.

  “Gabby, Becky, Aisha, wait up,” Jasmine called.

  Gabby turned and saw Jasmine pushing through the crowd to reach them. Gabby raised her hand to wave, but just then something flickered. At first she thought it was the bright overhead lights with their harsh fluorescent glow. But then she realized the flutter was inside her head, like a bird beating its wings against the side of her skull.

  Gabby knew what this meant, and her chest squeezed up so tight, it was hard to breathe.

  “I have to go to the girls’ room,” she managed to say. “I’ll see you guys in a minute.”

  Gabby didn’t wait for an answer; she just took off. Once she made it to the bathroom, she locked herself in a stall, sat on the toilet, and let her head fall between her knees. As the blood rushed to her head, the fluttering slowed and then stopped altogether. Gabby waited another moment, then lifted her head slowly and waited. Still no flickering. She stood up. Her legs felt rubbery, like her knees had turned to liquid, but they still held her up. She was okay.