Day 18: An Interesting Fellow

He was an interesting fellow. Mom said so. We first saw him walking down 6th Street right before Christmas. He was smoking a pipe outside of the toy store. His long white mustache was tinted yellow. Everything about his outfit shouted that he was a writer or a professor: the wool jacket with pads on the elbows; creased and ironed navy blue slacks; and a grey ascot hat only very few men wore around town. No one around my neighborhood anyways. The only way we matched in was his shoes. They were a bit ragged like he never owned another pair. I only had two pairs in my young life and neither of them looked that bad. He leaned against the brick wall with his ankles crossed and his sole was coming off the bottom of one shoe. The laces weren’t tied and the tongue was as haggard as a dead rat’s tail. They were definitely black but could have been something else before.

Mom must have spotted the shoes too because she squeezed my hand as we walked toward the toy store. The man only glanced as us for a moment and let out a puff of smoke. I like the smell of pipe tobacco but my dad only smokes cigarettes. That’s a nice smell too I suppose, but it lingers on our clothes and doesn’t smell good after a while. Maybe it was the look of a man with a pipe that I liked. They looked as if they knew so much more about the world. Like they’ve been exploring. Mom grabbed the door handle and the man tipped his hat at her. She nodded and put her eyes down.

The door came open and I’ll never forget the sweetness in the air. It was like they vaporized candy and pumped it into the store. Huge model planes hung from the ceiling. There was a giant Christmas tree in the center of the store, covered with lights, candy canes, and all sorts of colorful twinkling tinsel. The walls were covered Barbies, Play-Doh, frisbees, Matchbox Cars, hula hoops, and any sort of knick-knack or doo-dad you could think of.

It was the master of toy stores and I got to go there for Christmas shopping. Mom said that I could pick out one thing today and the rest would have to come from Santa. Not much else came other than the stuff mom and dad got me. Santa didn’t stop by the house often. Though, our house is pretty small and hard to find. I understood. Plus, I doubt the reindeer could fit on the tiny trailer roof. It would have probably collapsed! I imagined that Santa had to walk to our house from down the street. And some years he was just too tired.

At the store, I couldn’t stay in one place long. I had to see everything to make sure I picked out the right toy. If it was going to be the only thing I would get this year then I had to be exquisite. I fiddled with some of the wooden blocks and watched the trains roam around the store. They had a whole track built that went into tunnels and over hills. Even smoke came out of the stack. I dreamed of what it would be like to hop on a train and go around the country. Make my way to Chicago, through the farmlands, and all the way past the Rocky Mountains to California. I heard there used to be a bunch of gold out there. Not so much now. But dang I’d sure like to go. I watched the train for a little while longer but didn’t want to get my hopes up. I knew that would be too expensive for mom.

I played with some toy guns and wild west clothes, but I wasn’t much into that kind of stuff. Eventually, I settled on a Magic 8 Ball. It was this mysterious giant black ball that could tell your future. I asked it if I was ever going to see California. The little white thing in the center bounced around and revealed: “Ask again later.” I couldn’t jinx my opportunity to know if I was going to California or not. I decided that I could wait till Christmas to know, so I told Mom that I wanted the 8 Ball.

She held the bag in one hand and mine in the other. I helped push open the door and let the stink of the city back in my face. The man was still leaning against the building outside. He caught my eye as the door shut behind us.

“Mighty fine train in there. Did you see it?”

I nodded. My mom stopped and smiled at the man.

“A train like that could really take you places.”

I nodded again and my face broke a smile. “Like where?” I was curious of what he had to say.

“Oh, a long ways. You could go upstate or out to Maine. Heck,” he paused and looked down the street. “It could even take you all the way to California.”

“That’s where I want to go!” I blurted out.

“Oh, do ya?” The man leaned down. “Well, that train will take you there.”

I laughed. “That’s just a toy.”

The man looked back in the store. “Yeah, I suppose it is. But it would still be pretty nice to have, though.”

“It is a big train,” my mom finally said. She put on a smile. “Hi, I’m Linda.” She stuck out her hand for a shake.

The man obliged. “I’m Paul.” Then he let his hand fall down toward me. “And who might you be?”

“Charles,” I said and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” he said. “And Linda.” He smiled.

I started talking. “Yeah, I would really like that train, but it is really big and expensive and my parents can’t get it, but they say that Santa might bring things for Christmas, but he barely does. I think it is because our house is so small and he can’t find it well or something.”

Mom giggled. “Honey, let’s not tell him our life’s story.”

“That’s okay, ma’am. No judgments here.” The man kneeled down. “Say, Charles. Why do you believe in Santa if he don’t come?”

I could feel Mom’s hand squeeze mine.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Because he’s real and he gives presents to all the other kids at school.”

“But isn’t he supposed to be magic and be able to come to everyone’s house in one night?”

“Yeah.”

“You seem like a smart little man, Charles. Does it make sense for one man to be able to go all around the world in one night and be able to sneak into people’s squeaky houses without anyone noticing? And then no one sees him fly away.”

Paul did have me thinking now.

“Don’t make sense to me,” he concluded.

“Well, we need to get going,” Mom said. She pulled my arm back toward her. “It was nice to meet you, Paul. Thanks a lot. Goodbye.”

I wondered what Mom was thanking him for. We turned around quickly and off we went.

I heard Paul shout out behind me, “Merry Christmas, Charles. I hope you take that trip to California!”

Mom was muttering on the bus to herself. She looked angry, so I kept quiet. I wondered if it was something that Paul said. He did bring up some good points about Santa Claus. But Santa was magic, like he said. Anything that is magic can do anything. Maybe I just wasn’t a good enough boy that Santa didn’t want to bring me presents. Maybe I was on the naughty list. But Mom said that I was always on the good list, that I was a good boy. None of it made sense. I needed some answers.

“Mom, can I play with the Magic 8 Ball till we get home.”

Mom was staring out the window. Her stern lips had fallen down into a frown. She looked sad, but she smiled at me.

“That’s fine, honey. Just till we get home and then you have to wait till Christmas, okay?” She wiped something from her eye.

I scrambled in the bag and pulled out the box covered ball. There it was: the answers to all my questions. I couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t have one of these. Maybe people didn’t want to know their future. Maybe they were scared that it would tell them they were going to die or something. But I wasn’t scared. I wanted to know.

I kept my questions to a whisper.

“Will Santa bring presents to my house this year?” I shook the ball and turned it over.

Most Likely

Yes! Santa was coming. But “most likely.” I still had to be good until he did. I had to know more.

“Will Santa bring me the toy train?”

My reply is no.

No. No? Its reply is no?

“Will Santa bring me a football?”

Cannot predict now.

Can’t predict now? When would be a good time for you, Mr. 8 Ball?

“Will the Yankees win the World Series next year?”

Very doubtful.

What? That thing was broken. How could it be very doubtful? Didn’t it know who the Yankees were? They had Mickey Mantle!

“Is my name Charles?”

You may rely on it

Okay…

“Is my mom pretty?” She caught her name and looked down.

My sources say no.

Her mouth dropped.

“Hey, sorry Mom. I didn’t tell it what to say. I just asked the question.”

She grinned. “Well, that thing doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”

I was starting to agree.

“Will the Yankees win the World Series next year?”

Yes - definitely

What? Two seconds before that the dumb thing said very doubtful. Could things change that quickly? Was the act of asking about the future changing the future?

“Is my name Charles?”

Most likely.

“Is Santa coming this year?”

Outlook not so good.

The frustration welled up in my belly, through my chest, and into my throat. I wanted to scream. The tears were starting to come.

“Do you really predict the future?”

Concentrate and ask again.

“Do YOU really PREDICT the FUTURE?” My jaw was locked and my teeth were grinding.

Outlook good.

“Am I going to go to California one day?”

Yes.

“Am I going to go to California one day?” A tear slid off my cheek and splashed onto the ball.

Better not tell you now.

“Is my name Charles?”

My sources say no.

That stupid thing. That stupid stupid thing. It didn’t predict the future. It didn’t predict anything. It was just some dumb toy with some dumb thing in the middle that floated and had a bunch of sayings on it. There wasn’t anything magic about it. Paul was right. There isn’t a Santa Claus. His magic isn’t real. He only comes every couple of years because he forgot where I lived? That’s stupid. I’m stupid.

I started to cry. Mom tried to figure out what was wrong but I was wailing too hard. I pushed my face into her coat for the rest of the ride home. I pouted as we walked from the bus stop to home. I didn’t want to talk about what was wrong. I figured Mom was in on the hoax. She probably made the whole thing about Santa Claus up as an excuse for not getting us presents. Her and dad could just put the blame on that fat old man in the red suit. It was an ugly suite anyway. Who wears all red? When we got home I went straight to bed and didn’t get back up until dinner.

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The rest of the days before Christmas were terrible. We didn’t have school, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. There was no hope for more presents besides that stupid ball of blue water than didn’t tell me anything. And there was no hope for me going to California. I’d grow up poor and be poor like my parents. Probably get a job in the factory like Dad. Get up, go to work, come back smelling like grease and looking like a hobo, eat dinner, go to bed, get up and do it all over again. Nothing would change. The world was only as we saw it. There were no flying reindeer. Just dead deer on the side of the road.

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Christmas morning, I didn’t want to get up. I was so mad to open a gift that I didn’t even want. The only thing that swindled me to move was my dumb sister pulling my legs off the bed and the smell of Mom’s pancakes. She would make my sister and I cakes that were shaped like Mickey Mouse. There were cool. Plus the thought of syrup made my mouth water and my stomach rumble.

I stumbled into the living room and looked at the unlit tree. Underneath were stacks of presents. They looked like they were bursting out of the bottom of the tree and oozing out into our living room. I don’t know for sure how big my eyes were but my Mom likes to remind me now that she could fit two half-dollars in them. My mouth literally fell open. I couldn’t find the muscles to bring it back up.

“Come on, Charles!” my sister screamed and started tearing off the bright colorful wrappings. Green stripes and purple bows flung every which way.

My mom and dad sat with each other on the couch with equally puzzled and ecstatic faces.

“Go on,” my dad said to me. “Go see what a Santa brought.”

I almost said that there wasn’t a Santa. But I couldn’t. Not anymore.

I charged claws first into the pile of boxes and didn’t wake back up until every last present was open.

I got everything. Everything. The blocks, the slinky, the frisbee, the Matchbox Cars, the Mr. Potato Head, and I was even excited to open the Magic 8 Ball. Even though I knew it didn’t really predict the future, I thought it would be fun to mess with my sister with it.

Santa seemed to have brought everything. Everything except the train. Maybe the 8 Ball was right about that one.

The family ate pancakes and we enjoyed the morning together. My sister and I played in the living room with all our toys for hours. Then all of a sudden we heard some jingles from outside. We looked at each other with raised eyebrows. It couldn’t be…

We raced to the front door and pulled it open. A giant red box fell forward and almost crushed our toes. The thing was enormous. On top was a giant red bow. My sister and I glanced at each other and then jumped on. We tore and tore until we didn’t need to tear anymore. It was the train set. And taped to the box was a small card. I peeled it off and opened it. A whiff of pipe smoke found its way to my nostrils. It made me think of the toy store and that man out front. The card read: “Merry Christmas, Charles. From Santa. Have fun exploring the world.”

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Author's Note #1: If you made it this far, thank you for reading. I hoped you enjoyed my little story.