giovedì 12 settembre 2024

Christmas Dinner

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this cycle is to write a piece that involves a celebration and a weather anomaly. This week’s story was written by Phil Yeats.

In April, 2024, he published The Body on Karli’s Beach, the third book in his Barrettsport Mysteries, a series of soft-boiled mysteries set in a fictional South Shore Nova Scotia town. For information about these books, and The Road to Environmental Armageddon, his trilogy about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change, visit his website: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

 

Christmas Dinner

Phil Yeats

 Kevin joined the writing group a few months earlier in a belated attempt to connect with humanity.

He was an orphan, a misfit with a misshapen leg. He limped when he walked and running was out of the question. It had been his reality for as long as he could remember, living in group homes and with foster parents, but never in any place for very long. He focused on the only thing he did well; his classroom schoolwork.

At seventeen, he decided on a technical rather than an academic education and graduated at 21 as a certified medical technologist. He landed a job in the pathology lab associated with the city’s largest hospital and progressed up the pay scale more rapidly than most. He was now 27, and he faced a dilemma. Should he keep his eyes focused on his laboratory bench, or respond to requests from his managers to take a greater interest in training new recruits and low-level supervisory responsibilities?

If Kevin was to consider these additional responsibilities, he needed to develop better interpersonal communication skills. He thought back to high school where he enjoyed English class, especially the opportunity to write stories. Joining a writing group seemed like an obvious move.

He arrived at his fourth meeting and Margaret, the group’s rather overbearing leader, brought him out of his comfortable role, sitting back and learning by osmosis, but saying little.

“Today,” she said, “we have a new prompta personal story about a family celebration. And since we are starting afresh, I think we should begin with our newest member. Kevin, do you have a story for us?”

Kevin cleared his throat as he shuffled the pages in front of him. He’d written a story and was eager to read it, but he didn’t relish the idea of going first. “I’ve written a story about the celebration of what is normally a family holiday, but as you know from what I told you at my first meeting, I have no family. This is a true story. I call it Christmas Dinner. It’s about last Christmas, when you’ll probably recall, we had a massive snowstorm.”

Christmas Dinner

  On Christmas Day, I arrived home at 5 p.m. after my shift at the hospital. That was at least half an hour later than my usual arrival time, but there was a metre of snow on the main roads and more on the secondary ones. No vehicles were moving, and the sidewalks were deserted. The guy who replaced me on the skeleton holiday staff arrived on skis, and I trudged home on snowshoes. I know, what sort of weird character brings snowshoes to work, but the storm was widely predicted. I even offered to make my way back to the hospital for half of the overnight shift if his replacement didn’t show up, but that’s getting ahead of myself.

Inside the old house converted to small apartments, I found Madelyn sitting on the floor outside my door. “Mummy’s note said I should come here for dinner.”

Maddy was six years old, capable of reading a note if it was carefully printed using simple, well-spaced words, and always surprisingly happy given her less than ideal circumstances.

I couldn’t say the same for her mother, a forty something single mother on welfare with all sorts of problems. She frequently left her daughter in my care with little or no warning, and the social workers seemed happy with this makeshift arrangement.

I unlocked my door, and Maddy scurried inside clutching the doll I’d bought her for Christmas.

“Did your mum say when she’d be back?” I asked.

She shook her head before jumping onto the chair closest to my wall screen TV. “Can I watch Sesame Street?”

The power was off, but I located a Sesame Street Christmas video on my laptop. I placed it in front of her and retreated to my kitchen to sort out something we could prepare on my deck using my camp stove. I soon had spaghetti sauce heating on one burner and the noodles on another. Not quite your standard Christmas celebration meal, but something I knew she’d enjoy.

When I had everything under control, I phoned her mother’s social worker. I was surprised when she picked up. I described the situation and asked for her advice.

“We’re swamped here, dealing with dozens at risk during this storm. It’s good to know Madelyn’s safe. If her mother doesn’t return this evening, can you look after her?”

“Tonight and tomorrow, but Thursday will be a problem. I’m back at work Thursday at noon.”

After I ended the call, I remembered my offer to return to the lab during the night if necessary. I had a momentary panic, but it all worked out in the end. We had dinner rather later than usual for a six-year-old and shortly after, Maddy had a bath (there was no bathtub in her mother’s tiny apartment) and got ready for bed in a cot I set up in the little alcove that was usually my home office. At three a.m., I got her bundled up and towed her back to the hospital on a sled with broad runners I borrowed from another neighbour. She went back to sleep on the daybed in the path lab’s break room.

At 8:30, the power was back on, and we were home for breakfast and another twenty-four hours when I was responsible for a beautiful little girl. We went sledding on a nearby hill and finally got around to having a more traditional Christmas dinner on Boxing Day.

She cried when the social worker arrived on Thursday morning to take her into care. “But I like it here with Kevin, and Mummy will know where to find me. This was the best Christmas ever.”

 

Kevin placed the pages with his story on the table and gazed at the writing group members. “That was the day I realized I must make a serious effort to connect with humanity.”

 

*****

The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com

 

 

Nessun commento:

Posta un commento