Chistmas Ever After (13 page)

As they turned left into the Plaza, she saw it: the majestic Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, tall and glorious. Waves of crowds stared in wonder and joy. Lovers embraced, families roamed, ice skaters glided by below and shoppers toted bags, snapping photos with phones and cameras. Jennifer felt nothing. Her heart was cold.
 
She stared dispiritedly.

Still the bell rang out, much louder now.

Jennifer spotted the boy again. He had found a short, portly Santa Claus, who stood off from the main thoroughfare. His bell was the source of the ringing. He swung it in an easy arch, his smile engaging and warm. The bell had the comforting, euphoric sound of distant church bells on Christmas morning, but Jennifer stared at the Santa, too preoccupied to notice or care.

He was dressed in the traditional red Santa suit, but the cloth seemed richer, finer, and more authentic somehow. His red cap was cocked coolly to the right of his burly head, and his white beard flowed in generous curls that reminded Jennifer of little meringues that topped desserts. The black, white-laced belt was broad, circling a generous stomach; the boots a shiny black, like the color and texture of the finest licorice. He stood next to a 3½-foot paper Mache chimney that held money, collected for the needy. People passed and dropped in coins and bills.

Jennifer approached him carefully, scrutinizing his jovial ruddy face.

“Merry Christmas, Jennifer,” he said, softly.

Their eyes met. His dark eyes were lustrous and calm, like quiet pools. She was drawn there, into their wisdom and strength. It was as if he’d seen the entire spectrum of human existence, in all its beauty, folly and madness, and had participated in it all, joyfully, embracing it all with enthusiasm, compassion and humor. There was no judgment in his expression, no weakness in his stance. On the contrary, he stood strongly, as if he possessed the courage of a lion.

“Merry Christmas, Jennifer!” he said again, brightly.

Jennifer couldn’t bear the radiant joy in his face. Not now. She shaded her eyes and looked away. All she could manage to say was, “Yes…”

He continued ringing the bell, saying nothing, occasionally glancing her way with the glittering eyes of a jokester. When he did, she felt a startling warmth well up from inside her chest. A moment later, she lifted her hand to her chest, and Santa noticed.

He presented his face toward the sky. “It’s a beautiful snowfall. After all these years, it still makes me happy to see a beautiful snowfall. Don’t you agree, Jennifer?”

Jennifer stared with glassy eyes, still feeling wounded and vulnerable. “I suppose so.”

“It’s my favorite time of year, you know,” Santa said.

Jennifer didn’t try to hide her irritation. She glared.

“You’ve had a difficult experience. It takes time to work through those things. I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t need help. I want to be alone!” Jennifer shot back, hearing the cutting tone of her words.

“Yes, sometimes that’s good. But you’ve been alone too long...” He paused. “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”

Jennifer took a breath. “Aren’t you supposed to take care of that? I mean you are Santa Claus, aren’t you?” she asked, sarcastically.

He grinned, broadly, with sudden surprise. “Well, yes, I suppose I am.”

“What do you mean, suppose you are?”

“Well, let’s just say that I’m the Spirit of Santa.”

Jennifer sighed heavily. She looked away in irritation.

He chuckled. “Look around, Jennifer. Look into the faces of all these people. Take a good look, a generous look. A courageous look! Look how beautiful they all are! Look at the families: the fathers, the mothers, the wonderful children! Watch as the parents point their children’s eyes to the lights, to the ice skating rink, to the glorious decorations. Watch as they listen to the church bells, to the Christmas carols, to the children’s laughter. It’s Christmas, Jennifer! Magical and spectacular Christmas!”

Jennifer looked at him with tired eyes. “I’ve seen it,” she said, flatly.

Santa regarded her with surprise. “Really? Have you really seen it—heard it—truly experienced it in your heart, Jennifer?”

“Yes!”

“Well, after your recent shock, perhaps it needs to be reheated a little, like a cold cup of hot chocolate.”

A man in a tattered coat approached the chimney wearily. He dug down deep into his pocket and extracted a quarter. He dropped it into the chimney, and then shambled off.

“Did you hear him?” Santa asked.

Jennifer shook her head. “Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”

“He said, ‘Thank you.’”

“Thank you? For what? He looked like somebody should be giving him money. He looked like he might even be hungry.”

“He
is
hungry.”

“So what’s he so thankful about?”

Santa shrugged. “His secret, I guess.”

Santa indicated toward the crowds. “All of
them
are spirits of Christmas, Jennifer. They create it. Without them, none of this would be here—I wouldn’t be here. Without joy and honest celebration, without love, we would be living in that bleak shadowy darkness you just came from. No light… no companionship.”

Jennifer trembled and whispered. “I’d like to go home now.”

“And you will, Jennifer,” Santa said. “You will go home.”

Jennifer looked away in sad impatience, folding her arms tightly. “What’s the point of all this?”

Santa didn’t hesitate. “Your happiness.”

“My happiness!?” Jennifer exclaimed, incredulous. She motioned toward the crowds. “Look at all these people. Are they happy? Why not help them? Why am I so special that I’ve been chosen to have happiness?”

“Why are you so special that you shouldn’t have been chosen to have happiness?” Santa said, chuckling again.

Jennifer looked at him, pensively.

Santa stepped closer to her, swinging the bell, enthusiastically, the sound filling the plaza. “In this world, Jennifer, one person’s happiness is so important because it can make such a big difference. It becomes contagious and touches many others, like a happy potion that is passed from one person to the next and cures many aches and pains. Happiness and love change the world from hell into paradise.”

Jennifer shook her head. “Happiness and love don’t last. Nothing lasts!”

“They last, Jennifer. They’re the only things that really do last, but you have to discover them—work at them. They are wonderful journeys—the best adventures—but they take the greatest amount of persistence and courage.”

Jennifer’s eyes clouded up with angry tears. “My happiness, my love, was Lance! Until now, at least I had the memories of him—the memory that he loved me. That got me through the days and nights. What do I have now? Nothing!”

“Is that all you want out of life, Jennifer, to just get through the days and nights?”

She gave him a harsh stare. “I’ve lost everything: my business, my dreams, and the person I loved more than my own life, my own breath! So, if you want to make me happy, just stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing, and leave me alone!”

Santa continued ringing the bell, and as he did so, Jennifer continued to feel warmth in her chest. She pointed toward the bell. “What is that sound? That bell? I’ve never heard a bell like that before.”

“It’s the sound of peace and freedom,” Santa said.

“Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men?” she asked, cynically.

Santa smiled. “… Goodwill toward men, women, children and all things, yes.”

“You’re a dreamer,” she said, dismissing him.

He rang the bell louder and laughed. “Yes, Jennifer, I am. I most certainly am!”

Jennifer searched for the child that had led her to Santa. “Speaking of children, where’s the kid who’s been leading me around?”

“He’s lost.”

“Lost. He’s so small. Can you help him?” Jennifer asked, concerned.

“Perhaps when he comes back, we both can,” Santa said, taking off his hat. “Speaking of ‘back’, I’m wondering if you’ll do me a favor. I have a little errand to run, but I can’t leave the chimney filled with money, and if I take the chimney with me, people won’t have the opportunity to give. Would you please put on my hat and ring my bell while I’m gone?”

Jennifer pulled away, throwing up her hand in resistance. “No…I’m sorry, but, I… No, no way. ”

“Please, Jennifer, I’ll only be gone for a very short time.”

Jennifer looked about, anxiously. A steady stream of people approached, dropping money into the chimney and nodding happily at Santa Claus.

“This money helps the people who need it, Jennifer. It will help the man you saw earlier. Please?”

Jennifer made a sour face then reluctantly snatched the hat from his hand. She shook her head at her own folly, waited, and then finally slapped the cap on. Santa handed her the bell. Grudgingly, she took it.

Santa laughed generously, a deep and hearty laugh that Jennifer felt reverberate throughout her entire body. It almost cheered her, but she was in no mood to be cheered.

“Don’t be gone long,” Jennifer said, already regretting her decision.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Jennifer.”

Jennifer stood by the chimney in a self-conscious posture. She gripped the warm wooden bell handle and then, quite surprisingly, felt the rush of something fantastic pass through her body, like a delightful electric current that quickened her pulse with a new vitality, lifting her spirits and her posture. She stared down at the heavy bell in suspicious bewilderment. As she lifted the bell to begin swinging it, she was surprised by the comfortable weight of it, by its luxurious golden luster, which she hadn’t noticed before.

Slowly, with clumsy effort, she lifted the bell and began to swing it. At first, the iron clapper gave off a hollow metallic sound. Jennifer adjusted her stance and tightened her grip on the handle. She tried again. Gradually, she found a comfortable swinging rhythm and she threw her arm into it. It rang out clearly. People began to notice and smile.

As the crowds passed, she viewed them shyly, certain that they would look upon her as an intruder, as a curiosity, but they didn’t. They smiled warmly, placed money into the chimney, greeted her with “Merry Christmas” and thanked
her
for the act of generosity.

Then, a remarkable thing happened. As people approached the chimney, she became aware that she could actually hear their thoughts! Their voices were as clear as if they were speaking to her!

A well-dressed man came by and dropped in a five-dollar bill. “I hope this helps end homelessness,” she heard him think. “Well, at least it’s something,” he concluded. He nodded to her, affably, and walked away.

A young woman came over, dressed in a thin nylon coat, holding the hand of a little girl of perhaps 7 years old. The girl’s eyes reflected the magic around her. The woman opened her purse, took out a dollar and carefully placed it in the chimney. She paused and closed her eyes, as if in prayer. “Dear God, thank you for the apartment… please, I just need $200.00 to get me through the month… I know you can help me. I hope this dollar helps someone.”

The little girl looked up at Jennifer. “I love the snow. Do you love the snow?”

Jennifer nodded, uncertainly. “It’s…okay, I guess.”

“You don’t look like you love the snow,” the little girl added.

Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “I do, okay? I like the snow!”

The woman opened her eyes, smiled timidly, took her daughter’s hand and started off. The little girl turned and waved at Jennifer, smiling happily, as they disappeared into the crowd. Jennifer returned a strained smile.

A muscular, stiff-haired teenage boy wandered over, looking about sheepishly, as if hiding from friends. He kept his eyes focused on the ground as he approached the chimney, pulled a wad of singles from his pocket and quickly tossed them in. “Please help my dad find a job.”

He hurried away.

A moment later, a man walked over, opened his wallet and dropped in $20. “What a great city. I love this town. Hope this money helps somebody.”

A couple with two children came by. The woman dropped in $10. “Dear, dear Charlie… I hope you’re happy in heaven. We think of you every day. How I miss you, my little one. This $10 is for a little child who may need some food or a safe place to sleep. I’m giving it in your memory.”

A child hurried over and dropped in a quarter. “I hope Santa brings me a new brother.”

Jennifer began to hear a multitude of thoughts, converging in upon her from all directions.

“Please bless others with this offering and help me with my arthritis. My knees are so sore.”

“I can’t wait for our baby to be born so we can show him Christmas!”

“I’m getting so old; I can barely see the tree. Here’s money for young ones to see the tree after I’m gone.”

“I miss my mother, she loved Christmas so much.”

“I’m so lonely; this is such a lonely time of year for me. I wish I could talk to someone.”

“I wonder if my boyfriend’s going to get me that leather coat.”

“I hope she’s not expecting me to buy her that coat. No way I make that kind of money.”