1550 Loring Lane - 12. Chapter 12 - Giving

Giving

Character: A fast food employee" and "a department store Santa"

Words to incorporate: "what was left behind" and "woods"

Karla straightened her red and yellow tunic, adjusting the neckline so the cartoon chicken emblazoned on the chest would be square. The grease stains were gone, but in their place were faded spots on the mustard-colored fabric. She’d need to buy a new uniform soon. They were so expensive though and in the new year she’d get a fresh new uniform provided by the company and she’d still have that sixty bucks in her pocket. This prompted a sudden spark of fear in her, and she stopped fidgeting and checked.

She picked up her purse and found the card in her wallet. She counted off the chits left on her bus pass. Today was the twenty-fourth, and she had ten rides left, five there and five back. No extra. Tomorrow she had off and then on New Year’s Eve, she could get a ride from Sandy. Karla counted her money next. She had just enough to pay her rent with about forty dollars to spare.

Karla set her purse on the kitchen counter and dug through it, finding the little note she’d placed in it only three weeks ago. On it, there were two items, Christmas gifts she vowed to purchase regardless of her situation. Lifting her head, the gray-haired woman realized this year she was in a much better place. Buying these two things wouldn’t break her like it did last year.

Last year was bad, but two years ago was so much worse in its own way. A shudder ran through her and she shook her head to clear it.

Placing the small scrap of paper back in her bag, Karla grabbed her parka, the bristling faux fur tickling her cheek as she pulled it on. It was warm and cozy inside. There were gloves in the pocket, good cloth ones that were silky soft on the inside. They were plain brown workman gloves, but they always worked against the cold, and that was what mattered.

Karla walked to the bus stop, her breath colored the air white. Around her, the trees glistened with last night’s sleet storm. In the morning light, the branches glittered like Christmas trees adorned with lights and tinsel. It was magical, but cold. She pulled her arms in tight, to salvage warmth, and felt her eyes water from frigid wind. When she got to the bench in the bus shelter, it was a relief. She sat down with a sigh.

No one else was out there this morning. Usually a few people would also wait for the bus with her. They would chat a little. Claire from her building, 1550 Loring Lane, would talk about the weather and how cold/hot/wet/dry it was. Sammy, the man who worked at the hardware store next to her restaurant, would jaw about the latest sporting news, a thing she couldn’t follow, but she would nod and agree with his assessment.

Then, there were the two guys, friends, she thought, who also lived in her building. No, these men were more than friends, standing too closely together and too familiar with one another’s space. They would always, always, give her a seat on the bench. One was named Seb, and the other was…she couldn’t remember.

Didn’t matter. Those two young men weren’t there either. It was just her. She was by herself.

Smoothing her hair, Karla looked down the street to see if the bus was coming. She could rely on the buses. Maybe they weren’t always on time or perhaps, too full, but they always came. Most things in life were like buses, but people weren’t. No, she was the only one at the bus stop even though usually there was Claire and Sammy and the two guys who whispered things to each other. Today it was just her, alone.

Shivering in the cold air, she thought back to two years ago, when everything was different.

Karla could feel the warmth of the house, gaily decorated for Christmas, the air scented with ginger from cookies and evergreen from the tree in the living room and pine garlands lining the front hallway. Music was playing from the family room with the bang, banging sound of Elliott playing video games. He’d been given that Killing Floor game before that actual holiday, because Charlie insisted, and she couldn’t say ‘no’ at the time.

She remembered waiting for her husband to get home so they could have an early Christmas eve supper of oyster stew, homemade crackers, and salad. It was their tradition, one gleaned from Charlie’s family. He’d brought his Christmas Eve habits with him and she embraced them without question. Charlie Craft was the center of her life. She missed him so much.

It was the smell of exhaust that brought her back to the present. The squeak of the brakes as the bus slowed was jarring. The memory of Christmas past was so fresh and real. This year, and last year, had been so different, opposite of the sweetness of Elliott and Charlie being around.

Standing up, Karla noticed the stiffness in her legs and the crick in her neck. By the end of the day, she’d be so sore and achy. Already she was looking forward to a long soak in the bath tonight. She had a can of oyster soup and those little mini crackers along with a small box of white wine for her supper. It wouldn’t be as good, or painful, as their last Christmas together, but it would bring back those memories again. That’s the best she could hope for at this point.

Climbing up the stairs, she saw several open seats. Not many people were on the bus. Karla almost made it to a bench when the bus lurched forward. She barely made it into the seat. At least it was warm. During her half-hour ride, she wouldn’t be freezing and stiff.

She looked out the window and watched as the woods to the left passed them by. They were thin and scraggly in the winter, dressed in glittering ice and framing the lake, Loring, it was called. The lake had a gleaming white surface that sparkled in the morning light. There was so much beauty in the world, it was too bad she had no one left to share it with. Karla settled in, and continued to remember.

First, she lost Elliott. That had been a given. His diabetes was too severe. The infection was too powerful. They knew it was coming, but Charlie just couldn’t handle it. He started going to church, then meetings, finally, nothing else worked. Elliott died Christmas day, two years ago, and Charlie fell apart.

They fell apart.

She tried to help him cope, but their son was the apple of his father’s eye. Charlie started gambling and then came the drugs. Karla fought with him, for him. She was trying to save him. But, he had given up hope. He was trying to join Elliott in heaven. That’s what he said on more than one occasion.

“Merry Chr—is-ness,” she heard a man slurring. “Cheers!”

Karla looked up and saw a man with a flask in his hand. He’d lifted the tarnished silver container and toasted her. His face was red, not ruddy with health, but blotchy with drunkenness. His breath was foul, even from across the back of the bus seat next to her.

Karla smiled and looked away, hoping he’d leave her alone. This was the last thing she needed today.

“Are you shoppin’, got a meeting with someone, or something?” he asked, grinning like a fool. His eyes were blood-shot and his face had smudges of charcoal on it.

“I’m going to work,” she answered quietly, hoping it would shut him down.

“Oh yeah? I just got off work [burp] self. I work at the incinerator downtown. We had ourselves a little party this morning.” He was sounding a little clearer now. “Where do you work?”

“Beau’s Chicken Shack,” Karla answered, still not looking at him. She traced the fog on the inside of the bus window.

“Yeah? They have the bestest chick-chicken, you know?” he commented as though she didn’t know what they sold.

“Nice you’re a fan,” Karla remarked, as harshly as she could. She refused to look at him. The man looked so much like Charlie, near the end. He started drinking along with the drugs and it wasn’t pretty. Charlie’s face also got this harsh, unhealthy hue and it was so hard to witness. This man brought it all back to her.

“Can you get me some chick, you know, for free, some old stuff?”

Karla didn’t answer him. She figured if she ignored him, he would lose interest.

“I’m real hungry. I could use some chicken or biscuits or [burp] some taters or something. Starvin’ really.”

“I thought you were at a Christmas party.” Karla looked at him defiantly, gritting her teeth.

“What Christmas party?” he asked, then took a healthy swig from his flask.

He swallowed it without effect, and said bluntly. “I need food.”

“You said there was a work thing at your job.”

“What job?” he asked, looking woozy, his eyes no longer focused. “I got fired, for drinking and being a little stoned.”

Karla’s heart caught in her throat. It was like living with Charlie all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it.

“I’m so hungry, my stomach hurts,” the man said. “Please?”

Karla pursed her lips, but then reached into her bag. She had a candy bar in there. It was something she kept out of habit. She always kept one for Elliott in case he needed it. “Here,” she said, offering it to the man.

The drunk man’s unfocused eyes suddenly lit up. He grabbed the chocolate bar and ripped it open, greedily taking a big bite. He closed his eyes as he chewed, his mouth furiously gnawing.

“Thank you,” he murmured after swallowing. “I wish you all the blessings.”

“You’re welcome,” Karla said. She felt a little better now. A sick, starving man relishing nourishment had an effect on her. Last year’s Christmas didn’t seem quite as bad, not right now.

After losing their house, Charlie and Karla had found a small apartment. Charlie tried to find work, but he was so unstable, he couldn’t get hired anywhere. Once or twice a week, he’d go to the day-labor office and sometimes get eight hours of pay doing lawn work or unloading trucks on a dock. Then, after getting a few dollars in his pocket, he’d disappear.

Karla found a job in a retail shop, but it didn’t pay much and there weren’t many hours. They barely kept the rent paid. Karla had to hide her meager earnings, because if Charlie found it, he’d run off to the casino or a house party. Charlie was no longer the man of her dreams. Charlie had become a wreck of a man, falling to pieces, over and over.

Last Christmas, she’d tried to get some fresh oysters, cream, and a decent bottle of wine. She’d gone to work for a short day on Christmas eve. When she got home, she found the empty wine bottle, the cream was sitting on the counter, warm and slightly curdled from something, and the plastic container of oysters only had a few drops of liquor left in it.

She’d started to cry. After collecting herself with a snort and a deep breath, she then found him, snoring on the bed, curled into a fetal position. Charlie looked awful. Karla was about to leave him and open a can of soup for herself, when she saw something curled in Charlie’s fist.

She carefully unwrapped his fingers and pulled the receipt from his palm. It was a pawn ticket, with several items listed. Two items made her sick in the stomach. One was the silver cup they’d gotten at Elliott’s birth and the other was a ring, a men’s wedding band; gold.

Karla packed her bag. She only took her clothes, her personal effects, and the last of her pay. The last thing she placed in the suitcase was Elliott’s baby book. What was left behind for her?

“This is my stop,” she heard the drunk man say. “Merry Christmas, and may your dreams come true.”

Karla was startled from her daze. He sounded almost sober now, with barely a slur left. The candy bar had obviously hit the spot.

She watched as he stood, a little unsteady at first, then he saluted her. “Bless you.”

The drunk exited the bus with one last wave.

***

“Karla, can you please attend the register. We have a last-minute customer.” Her boss asked.

She flopped the mop back into the bucket. Karla had finished with the back, and had hoped to get her shift cut short, maybe a little. Her back hurt, legs ached, and her mood was even darker than this morning. Beau’s Chicken Shack was supposed to close at four pm today, and it was almost five o’clock, but the manager on duty wanted to sell the last few pieces of chicken so they wouldn’t have to toss them.

As she turned the corner from the kitchen leading to the front counter, she saw the man at the ordering area. He was dressed in a Santa suit, the kind of red and white flocked costumes that department store Santas wore for posing with kids for pictures. He had a sack thrown over his shoulder. It reminded her of Elliott, who as a little boy, had sat on Santa’s lap and whispered his deepest desires into St. Nick’s ear.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, twisting the key to turn on the register.

“Hi Karla,” Santa said.

She looked up in surprise, and saw Charlie’s eyes twinkling back at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, without thinking. He was like a ghost of Christmas past who popped out of a dream to visit her.

“I’m here to apologize,” he said. He reached a hand out, white gloved and spotless. “I’ve cleaned up my act, stopped all that shit I was doing.”

“That’s nice,” Karla barked. “I forgive you. Now please leave so I can go home.”

His face drooped. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“So talk,” she said. Her feelings were boiling up, a sense of relief he looked okay, anger at his past transgressions, and beneath it all was a horrible, dreadful feeling—hope.

“Can you sit for a minute?”

“I’m working,” she said. “You need to order something so we can close up.”

“Fine. I’ll take whatever you got. Give me a chicken dinner with beans and potatoes.” He looked hurt, but Karla couldn’t let his eyes trick her. She was feeling out of control.

She rang it up, took his money, handed him change.

“I’m locking up,” her manager said, rushing past them. “That’s the last of it.”

“I’m not hungry, actually,” Charlie said, moving his beard to one side. “Can we sit for just a minute, please?”

“I guess,” Karla said. She stepped around the counter and gestured to a table. He followed and sat across from her.

“I’ve stopped drinking and gambling. I wanted you to know.”

“You’ve said that,” she said, her tone had softened though. “I’m glad. But, I don’t know if it changes anything.”

“I want us to try.”

His blunt request took her breath away. “I—I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Of course, you can’t. I know I have to prove myself again. I’m working two jobs and I was moonlighting as a department store Santa. I waited until now, so I have something, anything to offer. Please consider it.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m, kinda, begging you.”

His words poured out of him in fits and starts. They sounded half-rehearsed and half-desperate, like the kind of request that’s both deliberate and spur-of-the-moment. In other words, he did sound genuine.

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

“Think on it. I kind of figured you’d need time.”

Karla nodded, numbly looking at him. His face had cleared, his eyes were bright, and his smile wasn’t pinched, like before.

“Oh,” he said abruptly. “I got you something.”

Charlie leaned down and dug into the bag he’d been carrying. He pulled it out, and turned to her. “I got it back for you. For us.”

At first, it looked like a silver flask, like the one carried by the drunk. Then it came to her. This was the little silver cup with Elliott’s name on it, the one from when he’d been born, purchased by Charlie at the gift shop. Pawned by Charlie, it had become the last straw. Now, returned to her by this Charlie, who was so clear-eyed and smiling hopefully.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. She picked it up and looked at him, happy. “I thought it was gone forever.” She turned it and saw the little dent on the bottom where Elliott had banged it on the table corner, when he was a toddler. It was his mark. Charlie tracked down the original silver cup.

It was genuine. The real thing.

Karla reached out and took Charlie’s hand. “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m asking for a second chance.”

She thought she deserved it. She needed a second chance as well.