I blink hard, because Paul’s words are punching me right in the center of my chest. I remember that Christmas he mentioned. I remember watching Paul struggle to pay the rent, and to keep us all fed. There just wasn’t enough to go around. And we went through several years like that.
Paul clears his throat. “Our community took care of us, and we like helping our community now that we can. So, with no further ado, let’s welcome the man of the hour!” He points toward a door at the back of the building. Henry walks in, beaming and waving.
Whispers ring out around the room. “It’s Santa!” sing excited children.
Henry grabs his belly and calls out, “Ho, ho, ho! Meeeeeerry Christmas!”
We’ve set up a big chair at the front of the room, and there’s a photographer to preserve the Christmas memories. Henry takes a seat, and Friday helps the first child come up to greet him.
We’ve devised a system. We bought a bunch of toys, and we hope that we have something on each child’s list. If we don’t, Henry is going to gently guide the children until they get to something we do have, in hopes that no one leaves empty-handed. We want each child to leave with a memory and a toy to take home. Henry holds up four fingers for building blocks, two fingers for a doll, three fingers for…hell, I don’t even know what all the signals are for. But the wives are in charge of this part. They can handle it.
I make my way around the room, so that I can be sure all the parents and grandparents are taken care of. I want to be sure that everyone leaves with something, even if it’s just well-wishes from one of us.
Some people have refused our money. And I respect their need to maintain their dignity and self-respect. I hope their families have heat, food, and shelter for the holiday.
I watch my wife as she slips a hundred dollar bill into a woman’s purse without her seeing. She looks up at me and grins, and my heart swells in my chest. I love her so damn much. She’s my miracle, in more ways than one.
Emily
While the line to see Santa is moving, I set up my guitar at the front of the room by the microphone. I figure I could at least sing a few Christmas songs with the people here while they’re waiting. I tap the microphone to get their attention. I start off with “Frosty,” and then I move on to “Rudolph” and some old favorites. The adults call out names of Christmas hymns, and then they join me in singing them.
There’s so much love in the air that I’m finding it almost hard to breathe it all in. I stop and take a deep breath. “Would you guys like to hear my new song? I wrote it just for you.”
The crowd claps. I’ve been touring with the Fallen from Zero girls, and my songs are on the radio now, so some of these people know who I am.
I nod and start to strum.
Lashes on fingertips
Soft kisses on my lips
Clovers and rainbows
Looking for luck—no one knows
It hits you like a freight train
Gone is the soft rain
You no longer feel sane
Confidence wanes
But I ain’t no plain Jane
And neither are you…
Lashes on fingertips
Soft kisses on my lips
Clovers and rainbows
Looking for luck—no one knows
I get to my feet
Get up off my seat
Go find something to eat
Make myself up all neat
’Cause I ain’t no cheat
And neither are you…Lashes on fingertips
Soft kisses on my lips
Clovers and rainbows
Looking for luck—no one knows
I am strong
I am powerful
I am loved
I am wanted
I am careful
And so are you…
Wherever you go
You just have to know
You reap what you sow
And sometimes it blows
But you are strong
Powerful
Loved
Wanted
Careful
And most of all you are…here.
I set my guitar to the side because I couldn’t squeak out another word if I tried. I feel like these people have pulled my guts out and they’re dangling there for the world to see. It hits me hard because I am them, and they are me.
Logan comes up onto the stage and wraps his arms around me. He’s my home.
The girl we met on the street corner approaches me after everyone has started talking and walking around. “I used to play music,” she says.
“Guitar?” I ask. I hold it out to her. “Give it a try.”
She sits down on the edge of the stage and balances my guitar on her knees. She starts to play, and she’s really very good. She looks sheepishly up at me when she’s done. “It has been a while.”
“Do you have a guitar?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I did, but I had to sell it when my mom died.”
“Come by the tattoo shop tomorrow. I’ll leave a practice guitar there for you.”
She smiles. “Really?” Then she shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”
Just because I can. “Because I want to.”
She nods and gets to her feet, handing my guitar back to me.
“Where’s your sister?”
She giggles and points behind me. I see Henry hold up five fingers and I know what that one means. “Can I do this one?” I ask Friday.
Friday nods and looks at me askance. “Sure.”
“You guys come with me.” I motion them toward the door and they follow me. The younger girl has her hand tucked into the older girl’s hand.