The snow fell heavily from the night skies, quickly blanketing the earth in a thick powder. Jessie's boots crunched down on the pavement as she made her way inside the small local mart. She stomped them on the welcome mat and wandered down the medicine aisle with a hard cough. The store played soft Christmas music over the speakers while Rudolph and his friends hung in paper cut outs from the ceiling. She watched her footing on the wet tiled floor with short glimpses around at the decorative wreathes and the few other patrons who dared the storm on the night before Christmas. She felt crazy for going outside but was desperate for some relief. Her nose felt like it was draining down her face and her lungs worked overtime to draw in air. Being sick sucked, there were no two ways about it.
Bright orange sale tags decorated the shelves as she scanned over the selection of cold remedies and finally settled for the generic brand. Buy one get one half off was too tempting of an offer to pass up, especially in the current economy. Purchase in hand she turned to leave when a little girl's bright smile caught her eye. She darted down the main aisle with a book in her hands and tiny brown pigtails bobbing behind her. Jessie smiled and let out a quiet chuckle which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Children could be so darn cute.
She followed after the little girl to the check-out line and watched as the book was presented to her mother. The woman was short with greying hair and laugh lines around her eyes. Her nose was a bright red and skin slightly pale as she threw a glance down at her daughter. The cold medicine in her basket had Jessie offering silent sympathy to them. She understood the woman's current pain all too well.
"Mommy, mommy, can I have this coloring book? Look, it has princesses in it!" the girl announced with a wave of the item in question. The mother's face dropped as she checked the price and slowly she shook her head. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but maybe next time. Right now we have to get milk, bread, and some meds." The little girl nodded in understanding and turned to put it away but Jessie saw the flash of disappointment on her face that tore at her own heart.
It was then she really looked at this family and it felt like time slowed to a near crawl. The jacket the mother wore was frayed around the wrists and appeared to be slightly too small. The little girl had on one that was too big for her small frame. She didn't appear surprised or upset that she was told to put something back. It looked more like her hopes were dashed for a second, third, or fourth time.
It could have been a coincidence, or even an assumption on her part, but the scene reminded her of a time she would have rather forgotten. It said times were tough, and only going to get harder. She swallowed hard as the world around her melted away.
"Hey mom, can I have that doll?" It was small, about twice the size of her own hand, with blond hair and ocean blue eyes. Her jumper said 'friends forever' on the front with matching white shoes and socks. The painted smile on the dolls face was beautifully done with captivating minor details to her eyelashes and pink tipped nails. It would fit in nicely with her tea-party buddies back at home.
"I'm sorry, pumpkin," her mother said with a sad smile as she picked up a box of cereal. "Not this time, maybe the next time we come here." Jessie looked down at her second hand boots and tried hard to keep the disappointed sigh inside. She loved her mommy but she always said that. Her face quickly brightened up as she remembered what time of the year it was.
"Do you think Santa could get it for me? I know I didn't ask for it in my letter but he's magical so he would know, right?" she asked in a rush of excitement. Her mother turned away so she couldn't see her face, but she noticed the tension in her shoulders. It meant mom was upset or angry. What did she do wrong?
"I don't know, baby, maybe he will. But if he doesn't you can't be upset. Santa works very hard every year to get a toy under everyone's tree." She murmured before setting a brisk pace down the aisle to the check-out line. Jessie nodded but bit her lip against the questions she burned to ask. Why did Santa only leave her one toy every year when Jacob from school got seven or eight? She was always happy with what she got and didn't care if she never found anything more under the tree but it made no sense. Molly talked about how full her living room would be of wrapped presents, and Brenda would gush over full stockings hanging from her fireplace mantel. Santa wasn't fair to all of the boys and girls he visited. Was it something she did?
Jessie cast the doll another longing stare before hurrying after her mom. Customers looked as they passed with sympathy or judgment in their eyes but said nothing. They check out and hurried across the parking lot to the beat up minivan while snow fluttered around them. The vehicle had no heat but it was short drive to their apartment. Christmas lights were strung across the top of the tall building and were wrapped around a few of the small trees. Their neighbors had pictures of snowmen and wrapped presents in their windows with lush wreaths on their doors. The magic of the holiday wrapped itself around everyone, bringing a sense of cheer to the air that was missing any other time of the year. Jessie loved it dearly and dancing up the steps to their plain door. She stomped her boots off on the black mat and slid them off just inside the front hall while mom took care of the groceries.
"Mom, mom!" she called, running around the corner to the tiny kitchen.
"Are we going to put out cookies for Santa, and a glass of milk?"
Her mother's face visibly fell before turning into another sad smile. "Not this year but Santa will understand. Besides, he gets so many cookies from everyone else that we would just make him sick. How about we put out a piece of toast for the reindeer instead?"
Jessie's face lit up at the idea. Hardly anyone from her class talked about putting out snacks for the reindeer, and they worked so hard helping out Santa. It would be a very good gesture. She pondered it for a moment before asking, "Can we leave out some water for them to drink, too?" Her mother beamed at the thought and quickly agreed. "Sounds wonderful, baby doll. I'm sure we can find a bowl around here for them."
The end result washed away the thoughts of the doll from the store. A cleaned sour cream bowl was filled with water and a chipped plate held the piece of toast for their midnight visitors. Their small tree was turned on, dancing with colorful lights that reflected off of the ornaments grandma used to send every year. It wasn't much but it was perfect. Jessie sat on the carpet as her mother read her a Christmas story and sang a few Christmas songs- her favorite, Silent Night, was done at least twice- until Jessie rubbed her eyes and yawned. Then her mother picked her up and tucked her into bed. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin. I'll see you in the morning."
Jessie offered her a sleepy smile and a soft, "goodnight, see you in the morning." It was never long before she fell asleep and her mother snuck off to the hall closet. Behind the towels on the top shelf were the Christmas presents that she would quickly lay out under the tree. The toast was cold but she would force herself to eat it and take care of the water. At midnight, to no one in particular, she wished a quiet Merry Christmas than turn off all of the lights and head to bed.
Jessie received three presents that year; a pair of socks, a book on animals, and a stuffed teddy bear. Though she never forgot that doll it never dimmed her Christmas spirit. She loved spending the time with her mother who worked tirelessly throughout the year at two jobs to provide for them, singing and reading beloved stories about miracles and winter wonder. It was never about the gifts, it was about unconditional love. Her mother, however, seemed to wilt over the years when finally she confessed to her daughter that they were struggling to pay the bills and celebrations had to be an afterthought. It filled her with guilt that her baby would wonder why Santa gave more to other kids and not her. Or what she did that made her mother's smile dip into a frown. She couldn't bear to see another mother go through that.
She looked at the tense shoulders and worry glimmering behind the woman's eyes. The little girl shared a look with Jessie almost to say she knew what was really going on. It was an instant bond she had with them both. She understood the feelings spiraling thr
ough their souls in this one simple moment. The little girl turned to put the book back as her mother asked with a flash of a smile. Jessie flexed her hands, took a deep breath, and reached out for the kid before she skipped down the aisle. The little girl gasped when Jessie gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. Her mother's eyes widened with uncertainty. Jessie gave them a disarming smile and shook her head. "Hey, do you mind if I have that coloring book?" she asked. The little girl looked down at the item in question, brushing a hand the glossy bright cover.
"Yeah, okay," she replied.
"Thank you very much!"
The mother smiled and grabbed her bag from the cashier. "Come on Tina, we need to go." The little girl chirped an "okay" and skipped after her to the front door. The cashier was a lanky younger man who simply raised an eyebrow as he scanned her purchases. Jessie tapped a finger on the counter impatiently and when he announced the total she throw a twenty at him and all but snatched the bag away. "Keep the change, donate it to charity or something!" she yelled over her shoulder while darting out the door.
The cold winter wind lashed at her body as she struggled to spot the two, praying they hadn't pulled away yet. "I can buckle my own seatbelt, mommy!" Tina's cheery voice rang out. Jessie blew out a breath of relief and let out another harsh cough as she chased after the sound. She rounded the corner of the brick building and spotted them closing the trunk of their Sedan. The parking lot was covered in a sheet of ice. Bravely, or maybe it was stupidly, Jessie ran across it anyway. Her boots slipped, causing her to nearly fall three times until she finally smacked into the back of their car. The breath left her lungs as she fought to keep herself up right. It smarted and startled the mother who quickly climbed out of the driver's seat to see if the insane stalker stranger was alright.
"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed while Jessie groaned and pushed herself off of the trunk. "I wanted to see your daughter again." She said between breathes. The mother's shoulders went back and her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"Look, I don't know who you are but you need to leave. Now." She growled out. Jessie threw her hands up quickly, jostling the bag. "No, no! That came out wrong, I swear I'm not here to be creepy or anything I—"
"Yeah, you're not doing a good job of that," the mother interrupted with a scowl. "Please, I just wanted to help." She begged, digging in the bag for the coloring book. When she pulled it out the mother gasped and covered her mouth with her slender hands. She shook her head slightly when it was offered to her. "Why would you do that? I mean, you really don't have to..." she began.
Jessie grinned, "because it's Christmas."
The mother shook her head again but accepted the gift with a gracious thank you and slowly got in her car. Jessie carefully made her way back to her own vehicle, watching as they backed out of their spot. Tina's face was lit up with a huge smile as she waved goodbye while they pulled away. All she got was a quick glimpse of the mother, but the smile adorning her face as well would be forever burned into her memory. It was another Christmas were she didn't have much, but it was perfect.
About C.R. Garmen
C.R. Garmen developed her passion for writing at a young age. Starting with retelling the three little pigs, she went on to dream big of being an author one day. Born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit, she is very close to her family, especially her little siblings who light up her world and continue to support and fuel her passion for telling stories.
Another First for Christmas
Michelle Rabe