THE END
--Charlie stood there in the cold. His nose had been rubbed raw against his new vinyl green snow jacket. His bag shifted restlessly back and forth between his hands looking vainly for a comfortable place to rest. This was Charlie’s first time out shopping for Christmas presents all by himself with his own money. He had just turned this year and was now in the fifth grade, which is the second highest grade of all in elementary school. He was normally very nervous about walking up to cashiers and buying things from strangers. But last year his older sister Charlene had gone out by herself and everyone was so impressed and commented and how mature she was now. Nothing happened to her, so he resolved that he would try it himself next year. He had been saving up all his allowances since Thanksgiving and had amassed, what he thought was quite a healthy sum. However before he left his father had given him a twenty dollar bill. “Just in case”, he said. Charlie had hoped not to have to use it, but alas things were much more expensive than he had counted on.
--So far, the afternoon had gone pretty well. He had gotten a Li’l Miss make-up set for his older sister, Charlene. For his younger brother Marshall, he had bought the Amazing Junior Science kit that he had been talking about for the past two months. He wanted to create a formula that would make him invisible so that he would’ve have to go to school anymore. For his younger sister, Nell, there was the Mrs. Mommy Dream Kitchen set to go with the Mrs. Mommy Fantasy Bedroom set she had gotten for her birthday. He had bought a stuffed panda bear that squeaks when you squeeze it for his youngest sister, Jessica. For Dad he found a great yellow and burgandy necktie. Burgandy was his Dad’s favorite color. He couldn’t believe that he’d found it on sale, too. He even found something Grandma, who is traditionally the hardest to shop for. He got her this book about indoor gardening so that she could keep he precious flowers alive all year long. He was quite proud of the job he had done. And now there was only one name left on the list, Mom. This one was going to be the easiest one to get. He already knew what it was she wanted, a wool blanket with a picture of thirty-one sheep on it. Charlie had by this store before with his mother. She told him how cold she was in her bed. She especially loved this blanket because it was so cute, and she could count the sheep to help her fall asleep. Charlie counted them. There were thirty-one. Once again he pulled the money out of his pocket and counted it. Thirteen dollars, just enough to buy the blanket, plus there was a whole bunch of change jingling in his pocket.
--When Charlie came out of the store with the blanket he noticed it was getting dark. He glanced down at his watch. Oh no, it’s 6:45! He had spent way too much time at the toy store gawking at the Captain Ranger Assault Robot which he hoped he would get for Christmas. He still sort of believed in Santa Claus, but was practical enough to realize that the presents under the tree really came from someone else. He promised his father that he would be home fifteen minutes ago. Being late on Christmas Eve of all nights, he was sure he was in for it. He had not really wanted to do his Christmas shopping at the last minute, but there was a terrible blizzard last week making it impossible for him to get around to it until today. Not only that, but it was starting to get really cold and he still had a long way to go. It was getting dark and some of the streets Charlie had to walk down to get home were kind of scary at night. He tried to run, but he had not counted on the bulk of the wool blanket when it was folded up. He had to hug the thing to his chest with both arms while sticking the other bag around his wrist, making rapid movement nearly impossible.
--Walking down the first block, Charlie worried about what he was going to tell his mother and father when he got home about how late he was. Walking down the second block, Charlie worried about how he was going to hide his bags of goodies from prying eyes when he got home untill he could get down to the Utility Room and wrap them. His original plan was to stuff them down is shirt, but now he realized that he could never fit all this stuff with the massive blanket in there. Maybe he could poke his head in and shout a warning to everybody to avert their eyes till he got downstairs. Walking down the third block, Charlie worried that he would die from the cold before he even got home. His jacket kept part of him reasonably warm, but his legs, protected from the night air only by a pair of jeans, were freezing. Once again, he had forgotten to bring his mittens. It was not that bad on the way up, when he could stick his hands into his pockets, but now with his fingers unprotected carrying his bundle he sorely regretted not bringing a pair of mittens along. His hat, as usual, was no good at all except at making Charlie’s scalp itch. He would frequently tell his mother that the hat never covered enough of his ears to keep them warm, but she insisted that he wear them everytime he went out anyway. His shoes, however, were the worst. Soaked through to the skin with freezing water and sleet, his toes were so numb that he was hardly even sure he was still touching the pavement.
--By the time he reached the fifth block, Charlie was miserable. He kept sniffling because he had nothing to wipe his nose on. His ears were so cold they hurt. It was then that Charlie thought that he saw a ray of hope, his Aunt Cecilia. She was in town for the holidays. Maybe she could give him a ride home! It was odd that she would be walking around here alone since she rarely if ever went out without her husband, Uncle Erik. It was even more odd that she was carrying a small child since she had no children. But Charlie was too cold to care. He ran up to her yelling, “Hey, Cecilia! Cecilia, it’s me! Me Charlie. Could you give me a ride home? Please? Huh?” But when he got nearer he realized, much to his chagrin, that he did not have even the foggiest idea who this woman was, only that it wasn’t his Aunt Cecilia.
--“I don’t know who you are, Kid, but I don’t have a place to stay tonight, much less a car.” Whoever this woman was, she looked as pathetic and miserable as Charlie felt, only worse. The young infant she was carrying in her arms was crying mercilessly. The clothes she was wearing looked horribly thin and worn-in, a pathetic defence against the cold even when compared to Charlie’s covering.
--“Oh, uh, I . . . I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Something about this poor, cold, and sad homeless brought a lump to his throat. She shouldn’t be out wondering, alone in the cold on the happiest day of the year. He knew there would be no presents for this young child when he woke up tomorrow morning.
--“You don’t have any spare change on you, do you, Kid so I can get my baby some food for Christmas?” Now, Charlie wasn’t above giving a spare quarter to the Salvation Army bell-ringer or the random street beggar every now and then. He had been taught in Sunday School that he should be kind to the poor and homeless, and that whatever he did nice to anyone - even a stranger - would be returned upon himself tenfold. He set down his bag, reached deep down in his pocket and instead of a solitary quarter he pulled out a whole handful of coins - everything he had left over from his shopping trip - and handed them over to the lady.
--“Oh. Thank you. Thank you very much!” Charlie was glad that he had helped this poor mother, but he still felt so helpless in easing her plight. He knew that there must be much more that he could do. But what? Then, it hit him. A dozen heroic speeches popped in his head, but Charlie was so cold, nervous, and frightened that all he could mutter was the word “Here.” as he pulled the ten dollar woolen blanket with the thrity-one sheep on it and handed it to this lovely, sad woman.
--“What? For me? Really? Thanks so much! God bless you, Kid. You’ve made this the best Christmas ever. You’re too kind. Thanks.” Charlie picked up his remaining bag and walked on without saying a word. When he finally got to the end of the block, he turned around to take one final glance at this wayward stranger. Much to his surprise, rather than wrapping herself in the comfort of the blanket as he intended, the woman took the blanket and enclosed her young child in it, temporarily ceasing his crying.
--The next few blocks were a pure treat for Charlie. He felt good. He was proud of himself. The true meaning of Christmas flowed through his veins. He felt so warm on the inside he didn’t notice how cold he was on the outside. He felt so happy that he began to skip in time with a loud, out-of-key carol that he was singing to himself. He didn’t care who heard him or how bad he sounded. He was sure his parents wouldn’t yell at him about how late he was when they found out what he had done for this poor stranger. And then it hit him. What he HAD done for this poor stranger! He had given away his mother’s Christmas present. There was no time left to get her something else. Besides he didn’t have any money left either. His mother would kill him when she found that he had some so near-sighted, immature, and foolish as to not get his own mother a present. They would never let him out to buy presents on his own again. She would probably demand her own presents to him back.
--The rest of the walk home was pure torture to Charlie. He felt so miserable about losing his mother’s gift that he didn’t notice how cold he was. He was sniffling more than ever now, but it wasn’t the cold that was doing it this time. When he finally saw the nieghbor’s flashing Christmas lights, instead of rejoicing that he was almost home as he had often done on the way home from school, he was filled with a terrible urge to flee. If he wasn’t so cold and tired, he might have done it too. Resignedly, he reached his front porch and turned the knob. His father was waiting fo him inside. Instead of scolding him, as Charlie had predicted he would do, his father just smiled sympathetically at his runny-nosed, lumpy-shirted son.
--That night for dinner Charlie’s family had a sumptious banquet of pot roast, carrots, and onions, a holiday tradition at their house. Also they had hot steaming rolls, egg nog, and for an appetizer, Marshall’s particular favorite, cocktail shrimp. Charlie, who normally was very proud of just how much food he could consume, ate very little and said even less. The rest of the family was too busy chatting, laughing, and remebering past Christmas to notice the dejected remorseful look on Charlie’s face. When the traditional Christmas fruitcake was sliced up and served, Mom finally turned her attention to the despondant Charlie.
--“Where were you this afternoon? We thought maybe you had decided that you’d rather have McDonald’s for Christmas Eve.”
--“Oh, I went out Christmas shopping. Dad said I could.”
--“By yourself? Well, I’m quite proud of you. You’re almost a young man now. I hope you got me the best Christmas present ever.”
--Charlie’s heart sank. He knew that Mom was jsut joking, but still he knew that a gift was now expected. There was nothing left for him to do. The rest of the evening did little to help his spirits. Usually Christmas Eve Night was Charlie’s favorite part of the holiday season, excepting Christmas morning itself. It was an evening rich in tradition. First there was the singing of the carols while Mom played the piano. Then they all tramped off into the living room and popped “A Miracle on 34th Street” into the VCR. They hung up their stockings and left a plate of cookies out for Santa Claus. Finally they all sat around the fire as Dad read the Christmas story out of Luke. Then all the children were shuffled off to their bedrooms with exortations to go right to sleep, all knowing full well that it would be impossible.
--Before going off to bed, Charlie, as he had done every year, took one last look at the brilliantly lit Christmas tree squinting his eyes so the whole room turned into a gaily swirled blur of colors. Charlie was on the verge of tears. He was going to ruin Christmas for his mother and the whole family, too. He was sure that was going to be disowned, disinherited, and thrown out onto the streets. If only there was a way to avoid tomorrow morning.
--That night, as almost every Christmas Eve night before it, Charlie found it impossible to sleep. This night however it wasn’t the excitement or the anticipation that was keeping him up, it was fear mixed with a sever disappointment in himself. Even if they didn’t throw him out, how could he face his mother again after giving away her Christmas present before she even got a chance to look at it. Usually, he stayed strained to hear sound of reindeer on the rooftop or parents in the living room. This year, Charlie spent several hours tossing and turning in bed, trying to think of an excuse to tell Mom tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to lie to his parents, particularly on Christmas Day, but he would’ve done if he could’ve thought of a plausible fib. Try as he might, Charlie was unable to think of an even barely usable reason as to why his mother was giftless. Finally, at about 11:30, he got up and started packing his mini-suit case. Marshall, who was sleeping on the bottom and unable to sleep too, saw him.
--“What you doing Charlie?”
--“I’m running away.”
--“Why?”
--“I ruined Christmas for the whole family.”
--“Why?”
--“It’s none of your business.”
--“Why not?”
--“Cause I said so, that’s why.”
--“Can I run away too?”
--“No.”
--“Why not?”
--“Because it’s very, very cold out there. You wouldn’t like it.”
--“It’s not as cold as Greenland. That’s the coldest place on Earth. You couldn’t live there without special protection. I know cause I did a book report on Greenland.”
--“I know. You told me several times.”
--“You think Santa’s going to bring me a Junior Science Kit just like I asked him?”
--“Probably.”
--“What is Santa gets lost, or he can’t find our house, or can’t fit down our chimney?”
--“I don’t think that’ll happen.”
--“Why?”
--“Cause I said so that’s why.”
--“Where you running away to Charlie?”
--“I don’t know.”
--“You can’t go to Greenland. It’s far away across the sea. You can’t walk there.”
--“I know.”
--“So where are you running away to, huh?”
--“Maybe I’ll live in the backyard. Or maybe I’ll live over at Barney’s house.”
--“Can I go with you?”
--“No.”
--“Why don’t you wait until after Christmas, so you can get all your presents.”
--“Cause I don’t want to wait, that’s why.”
--“You can’t run away tonight. Christmas just won’t be the same without you.”
--“I know.”
--“If you run away, I’ll wait till your gone then I will follow you.”
--“Don’t do that.”
--“Huh? What you doing now Charlie?”
--“I’m un-packing?”
--“Aren’t you going to run away no more?”
--“No.”
--“Good. You really think that Santa will remember my Science kit? He won’t foget that I live in this house will he?”
--“No. Now go to sleep.”
--“O.K. Charlie. Goodnight.”
--“Goodnight.”
--Charlie crawled back into bed. He knew that there was no way to escape tonight, at least not while Marshall stil occupied the bottom bunk. There was nothing left to do but to slowly wait for the morning and doom. He positioned the clock so he could get a better look at it. The kids weren’t allowed to get up before 6:00 a.m. Normally it was a sturggle to stay in their rooms after 3:30. Typically the kids would get together and secretly conspire to set their clocks ahead a couple of minutes so they could get up earlier. Now Charlie wished to stop the clock all together. When it finally reached midnight, and it was officially Christmas Day, he started imagining all these horrible fates that would greet him in the morning, all his toys and presents being taken away, tied up alone in the scary basement starving, maybe even spanked to death. Visions of sugar plums they were not.
--Usually Charlie did not need to be awakened on Christmas morn, but sometime last night the strain and weariness must’ve creeped over his tiny frame. That night, while he slept, Charlie had a terrible nightmare. He couldn’t remember any of the details, but he remembered being very scared and having to run from something big. It was Marshall who woke him up. It was 5:50. Ten more minutes to go. Marshall could hardly wait. Charlie did his best to cheer up. It was Christmas day. He could still enjoy his presents for a short time before the found out what he did and took them away from him. Maybe some sort of miracle would happen and there would be an extra gift under the tree for Mom from him. He hoped against hope, but still it was all he had.
--Finally it was 6:00 and all the kids filed into their parents bedroom to wake them up. As usual, the parents themselves were asleep. And the kids wondered by what force of will they managed this. Awakened the parents led their children out to the Christmas tree. And what sights awaited them there. The whole room shimmered. Even Charlie momentarily lost his feeling of dispair. Then it came back with stinging clarity. None of it would ever be his. He would never see such love, glitter, and compassion again. The rest of the morning was excruciatingly slow. Charlie was too busy dreading the inevitable he almost didn’t notice the heaps of praise Dad heaped upon his yellow and burgundy tie. When Charlie finally did un-wrap his Captain Ranger Assault Robot, he too pre-occupied with the knowledge that he would soon have to give it back to enjoy it while he had it. He practically knew beforehand that he was going to get it. He had dropped so many hints. He now wished he hadn’t, because it would make giving it back only that much harder. And then it was over. The garbage sacks were full of bright wrapping paper and the kids were temporarily satisfied with their treasures.
--“Well, I guess that’s it.” proclaimed Dad.
--“Not quite”, responded Mom, “I still haven’t got Charlie’s present yet.”
--“I don’t see it around anywhere.”
--That was it. Charlie couldn’t hold it anymore. He burst into tears. Sobbing, he told his mother the whole story. When he concluded, he looked into her eyes to see what she would do next. She was cring too. It was much worse than he had imagined if he had made her cry too. This was it.
--“Here, Mom, you can have my Captain Ranger Attack Robot back. And my other presents as well. I don’t deserve them. I have let you down.”
--Charlie’s mother grabbed him and hugged him closely, “You, Charlie, you are the greatest gift of all.”
THE END
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