I thought about all of the Christmas stories I’ve read over the years, some silly, sappy, some dark and serious. This one is serious but has a happy ending. I always want a Christmas story to have a happy ending.
A Tale of the City – A Christmas Story
Amanda stepped slowly along the broken sidewalk pulling her two wheeled shopping cart over a piece of concrete; her hands and arms weren’t as strong as they used to be.
She turned as she heard them coming along the sidewalk behind her; four black boys; laughing as they pushed and shoved each other back and forth across the sidewalk. She judged their ages at about thirteen, old enough to cause trouble. Pulling the cart over the next broken bit of concrete she moved to the side of the building, I’ll wait till they pass by.
The biggest boy spied her next to the building. Slapping the boy next to him, “Hey Granny, what’cho doin’ in this neighborhood?
Another picked up the cue, “Yeah Granny, dis no place for old white women,” they laughed as they surrounded her.
The big boy kicked the tire of her cart, “Got anything good in there Granny?”
Warily she pulled the cart closer, “Nothing boys would like.” In the old days the shop keeper would have been out on the sidewalk by now, telling them to move along, but this store had been boarded up for the last ten years.
One boy grabbed the cart basket, ripping the handle from her grasp. “Let’s see Granny,” he pulled cans and boxes out of the bag in the cart, tossing them to his friends. “Shiiit, Granny, nothin’ in here but old white lady food.” His friends tossed the cans of food back and forth, laughing.
“Hey, dog food!” he pulled the last can from the bag. “You eat dog food Granny?” she recoiled as he waved the can in her face. The boys kicked a paper wrapped packet of chicken thighs, splitting it open onto the sidewalk. Cans and boxes smashed on the edge of the curb; soup, milk, noodles and oatmeal mixed in the gutter, cranberries rolled in all directions. Her oranges were thrown against the crumbling brick wall; a sickening splat as they broke open, the smell of orange overpowering the smell soup in the gutter. Tears began to run down her cheeks.
The smallest boy climbed into the cart, “give me a ride!” The biggest boy yanked the handle and pulled him along, breaking the bottom out of the cart as he hauled it over the rough sidewalk, spilling his friend into a tangle with the broken and twisted cart.
“Too bad, so sad,” the boy laughed as he tossed the cart into the gutter. They moved off, “Go eat dog food, Granny!” he called over his shoulder, his friends giving him a high five. One boy looked back; then turned to join his friends. She looked at the sidewalk around her; groceries scattered over the sidewalk and into the gutter.
Pulling a tissue from her pocket, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Her purse lay against the building, at least they didn’t take my purse.
At her apartment building she struggled up to the second floor, pulling keys out of her coat pocket. “Sandy, I’m home.” Sandy eased off of the sofa; an old dog, the little terrier mix didn’t move as fast as he used to either. He came over to her as she shut and chained the door, tail wagging. She leaned down to scratch him behind his ears.
She took her hat and coat off and put them on the pegs by the door, “it’s going to be a skimpy Christmas dinner tomorrow Sandy. Bad boys spoiled all the food,” she walked over to the sofa and sat down, Sandy jumping into her lap. She looked the little dog in the eyes, fondling his ears. “I’ll have to share my dinner with you.” She gave him a kiss on the head and he lay down in her lap. She stroked the dog’s back.
“Not like the old days Sandy. All the stores along the block were open. We knew everyone in the neighborhood. Boys wouldn’t have dreamed of attacking an old woman. Now,” her tears started again, “now, even the church is closed. I’m the only one left.” Sandy looked up at her, so she scratched him under the chin. He tucked his nose under his paws in her lap. She sat like that until the sun went down.
The next day after breakfast, she sat on the sofa, where the light was best. She read the Christmas story out of the bible to Sandy, who had come to sit beside her, his head on her lap. She finished, sighing; she missed going to Christmas services. Sandy’s head shot up at a knock on the door. “Strange,” she told the dog. “No one ever visits.”
Amanda levered herself off the sofa. At the door, through the peep hole; there was a black woman. She looked harmless enough. Amanda opened the door.
“Hello?” Amanda looked at the woman, who was carrying a paper grocery bag. A boy, also holding a paper bag, stood beside her. “Can I help you?”
The black woman shook her head, “No ma’am, but I think I can help you. I’m Latisha Evans and this is my son, Lamar.” She looked around at her son, “Go ahead boy.”
The boy stepped forward, “Ma’am, I was one of the boys yesterday that spoiled your food and shopping cart. I’m sorry; I’ve bought you some more groceries.” He looked at his mother, “Out of my own money.” He held out the bag, but Amanda was too surprised to take it. She looked at Latisha.
“Ma’am, I raised my son better than that. I really wish you’d take the groceries as our apology.” Amanda smiled. “Thank you, would you like to come in for some tea?” She opened the door wider.
Latisha looked at her son, “Yes ma’am; that would be nice.”
The End
963 Words
