WRITING ON THE INSIDE OF MY EYELIDS
Stories
A Christmas Story
Patrick pondered over what could he add to the literature of Christmas stories. His own unfinished version offers the beginnings of a tender adventure written for children.
A Christmas Story
(an incomplete short story)
I sat in my wheelchair and stared in disbelief out the door of the building where I worked. The most magical and wonderful things are supposed to happen on Christmas Day, I thought. But not this Christmas, and not to me - and especially not tonight. Outside, a snowstorm was blowing so fiercely I couldn't even see the street. I couldn't tell whether my Handitransit bus had driven up. What kind of bus driver, I wondered, would be brave enough, or foolish enough, to come and pick me up on a night like tonight?
I wondered what I should do. My bus would arrive any time now. But it would wait for only a minute and then drive off to pick up another passenger. If I couldn't see outside, I might miss it. But if I went outside then the front door of the building would lock behind me. I would have to unlock the front door if I wanted to get back in the building. I had the door key in my coat pocket but I was in my wheelchair. There would be no one around to help me. Opening the door by myself would be very hard but I decided to try going out. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and pushed the door open with my feet.
The air was cold as I pushed through the front door and rolled through the snow to the curb. I looked up and down the street for my bus but I couldn't see it anywhere. I could barely see anything! I turned my wheelchair and went back to the door to go back inside. I reached the door and fumbled the key out of my coat pocket. My fingers were so cold they were numb and, as I tried to fit the key into the lock, the key was so slippery it dropped from my fingers; with a pretty tinkle and a jangle it disappeared into the snow below my feet.
This was a bit of a problem. It was getting colder outside by the minute. I dug my fingers into the snow frantically, but I couldn't find my keys anywhere. It was time to call for help. I reached around to the knapsack on the back of my wheelchair and pulled out my cell phone. I pushed the button to turn it on and got the shock of my life. The batteries of my cell phone were dead! I stared at the door in amazement. I was really in big trouble. It was getting colder by the second and there was no way for me to get back inside and nobody knew where I was and all the buildings were locked and my wheelchair wouldn't roll through the snow and I didn't know what to do!
"Excuse me, please, sir," said a voice over my shoulder. "Are you by any chance waiting for a bus?"
I turned my head and nearly jumped out of my skin! Almost nose to nose with me was a wrinkled brown face with laughing, dancing eyes. It had a wispy beard of black and white, with wrinkles everywhere, and the strangest yellow hat on his head I had ever seen. But, oh joy of joys, there was also a Handitransit uniform underneath the face and I knew that if he was a bus driver, then somewhere nearby, he had to have a bus.
"I dropped my keys," I said. "I was waiting for the bus."
"Oh, good, good," he replied. "That is very good. Such a night, eh? So cold. Wait, I will find your keys." With that, he was on his knees in front of me, brushing at the snow and looking for them. As I put my cell phone back into my knapsack, he said, "Oh yes, here they are," and handed the keys back to me. Then he chuckled like he was having the best day in the world and, stepping around, grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and rolled me over to his bus.
"Where did you come from?" I asked. "I didn't see the bus before."
"You were looking for your keys when I drove up," he grinned, as he opened the loading door and lowered the lift for my wheelchair. "Such a night, eh, such a night? And look at you," he grinned. "No hat on your head, and no gloves. You’re not wearing gloves. It's too cold, - you could freeze."
I backed my wheelchair onto the lift and he pushed the button to raise the lift up to the right height. I rolled backwards into the bus and he closed the big door behind me. Then he nimbly hopped up the stairs and closed his door behind him.
"Here," he said, laughing. "Someone left this on the bus a few days ago. You need it tonight, I think, eh? A Christmas present. From me to you."
He held up a knitted toque for my inspection. Printed on it in big red letters were the words, "Start Your Day With A Smile". Without any warning, he opened it wide and pulled it down over my head.
"Hey," I protested weakly.
"That is better, much better," he smiled. "Now you will be warmer, eh?"
As he leaned over to put on the straps that hooked my wheelchair to the floor, I took a closer look at him and his hat. He was a lot older than me, and had gray hair and a short beard that was turning white. His uniform was baggy on him and he looked pretty short. He also seemed awfully cheerful.
"You’re going home, eh? Oh, yes, thanks for that," he said, as I handed him the ticket. "You were working? That's too bad, to be working on Christmas Day. What were you doing?" he asked, as he sat down behind the steering wheel.
We started to drive off. I looked out the window at the snow-covered street and I thought, why shouldn't I tell him?
"I've been thinking about it all day," I replied. "I had to work Christmas Day. People don't know it but they are depending on me. Let's see them eat their Christmas dinners without me. My job might not sound important, but you just try eating supper without heat."
"Eh?" he said. "You fix the broken ovens? Is that what you do?"
I laughed. "No, no," I said. "I sit in an office with a phone. When somebody can’t get their furnace to heat their house, they phone me. I work for the gas company. I phone the person who comes and fixes the broken furnace. I sat there all day and the phone rang four times. But that's four families who’ll get Christmas dinner because I told the repair person to go to their house. That's my job. It doesn't sound very exciting and it’s not. I read a book for most of the day. But somebody has to do it and four families will be able to eat their Christmas dinner tonight because of me." Then I laughed again, but not very happily.
"You don't sound happy. You don't look happy either, eh?" the little driver said. "Why not? That's an important job. People have to eat dinner."
"I know, I know," I shrugged. "But it's not exciting. It's not like I'm a firefighter or a brain surgeon or anything."
"That's a good job," he said again. "It's a good job. People don't want to be cold on Christmas. It's like when I first came to this country. My first day of work and it was a day just like this one. It was a Christmas Day, twenty-four years ago." I could hear him laugh.
The bus suddenly skidded and swerved from side to side in the street. "Whoa," I shouted….
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