Christmas with the Reeds (Reed Brothers) (3 page)

I walk up to a young girl who’s standing on the street corner. “How much will you make tonight?” I ask her. Emily stands beside me.

“For both of you together, it’ll be expensive,” the girl says.

Emily’s cheeks color and she tucks her face into my sleeve. “How much to get you off the corner for one night?” I ask.

The girl finally understands. “My little sister, she needs medicine,” she rushes to say. She wouldn’t be out here if she didn’t have to be. No one would.

“How much?” I repeat.

I have a wad of hundred dollar bills in my pocket. We all do. It’s part of what we’re doing tonight.

“One hundred,” she says.

“That’s all?” I ask. “Where are you sleeping?”

She jerks a thumb toward the shelter.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Waiting to see Santa.”

I peel four crisp one hundred dollar bills from my pocket and I fold them into a square. Her eyes go wide. I tuck them into her palm.

“After she sees Santa, I want you to come and find me, okay?” I tell her. “I don’t care what I’m doing. Come to me and tell me what it would take for you to get a job. A place to live. Or an education. Think about it and then come and tell me what you want your next step to be. I’ll help you make it happen.”

Tears fill her eyes and she blinks them back. “Really?”

“Really,” Emily says. “Food. Medicine. A place to live.” Her brow furrows. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” the girl replies quickly. But I know she’s lying.

“No more working tonight,” I tell her. “Go inside, get a hot meal, see Santa, and then come and find me, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Tell Santa something
you
want, too, okay?” I tell her.

She nods. But she has a defeated look in her eyes. “This Santa…” she says. “What he is going to give my sister is the only present she’ll get. I don’t care if it’s just a candy cane. It’s more than I can give her.”

“I hear this Santa has some tricks up his sleeve.” I turn her toward the line. “Go find your sister.”

I see her duck into the line with her little sister and she tucks the money I just gave her into the pocket of her jeans.

“That was nice of you,” Emily says.

“No, that was human of me. Nice wasn’t even a part of it.”

“I never had anyone but myself to take care of,” Emily tells me. “I could be hungry, but I didn’t have anyone who was waiting for me to feed her.”

Emily points to a person in line who has four children with her. They call her Nana, and the little ones are so excited they can barely stand the wait. “Do them next,” Em says. I stop to talk to them.

“Are you guys here to see Santa?” I ask.

The younger kids are star-struck by my costume. The oldest, though, is cynical. “Everybody knows Santa isn’t real,” he grunts out.

I motion him forward. I pull a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket and press it into his palm. “Santa said for you to buy some groceries for your brothers and sisters. And your grandma.”

The boy’s shoulders straighten and he says, “Yes, sir.”

I look around and see my brothers doing the same thing that I am. People are crying for joy in the street. Daniel has a woman almost knock him over when she jumps up to hug him. And Josh…well, Josh hasn’t passed out a single dollar yet. But I’m sure he will.

They open the doors to the shelter and people walk slowly inside. First, there will be a Christmas dinner. Then Santa will visit with all the kids. Then we’ll get to make some dreams come true. And I get to bask in the glow of it all.

“I love you, Logan,” Em says quietly.

“I love you, too,” I tell her. I kiss her quickly, and then we go inside. It’s time to start serving up meals.

Matt

Food first. Even as excited as these kids are to see Santa, they are even more anxious to fill their bellies. We serve up a full Christmas dinner. We have baskets of rolls on the tables, and real turkeys and lots of side dishes. My wife is walking around with Gracie asleep in a pouch on her chest, since she just finished feeding her. Once Gracie wakes up, she’ll start screaming her head off and we both know it. But for now, it’s peaceful.

I see Sky slip a hundred dollar bill to a homeless man. I recognize him because he begs on the street outside our shop all the time. He tries to hug her, and she lets him. I’m pretty sure no one else comes that close to him on a normal day. The smell will just about knock you over, but my wife knows what it means to feel lost and alone. She offers him comfort, even if only for a moment.

Paul stands up at the front of the room and taps a microphone.

“It’s our honor to spend Christmas Eve with you,” he says. The people go quiet at the sound of his words. “We know a lot of you from the neighborhood, and those of you that we don’t know, we want to get to know, so be sure to stop and talk with one of the elves walking around.” He motions in a circle around the room, and we all stop and look up.

“I remember when we were younger,” he continues. “I got custody of my four younger brothers, and I was pretty much alone. We had no Christmas tree that first year, and we had no presents to share with one another. My brothers drew a tree on the wall, and wrapped up pictures they made themselves out of crayons and markers. Then this community rallied around us, and someone brought in a real tree. Someone else brought food. And on Christmas morning, we woke up to find presents under our tree. We still have no idea who did that, but if any of you were part of it, we are thankful, and we’re happy to give back to this community, this group of people who cared for us and made sure we didn’t do without. Christmas is more than just a season. It’s more than unwrapping gifts and spending time with loved ones. It’s a reminder that we’re all here on earth to serve a purpose, and though we might not know what that purpose is today, someday we will, and it will all become clear. So if you’re feeling a little lost this Christmas, hang in there. It does get better.”

I blink hard, because Paul’s words are punching me right in the center of my chest. I remember that Christmas he mentioned. I remember watching Paul struggle to pay the rent, and to keep us all fed. There just wasn’t enough to go around. And we went through several years like that.

Paul clears his throat. “Our community took care of us, and we like helping our community now that we can. So, with no further ado, let’s welcome the man of the hour!” He points toward a door at the back of the building. Henry walks in, beaming and waving.

Whispers ring out around the room. “It’s Santa!” sing excited children.

Henry grabs his belly and calls out, “Ho, ho, ho! Meeeeeerry Christmas!”

We’ve set up a big chair at the front of the room, and there’s a photographer to preserve the Christmas memories. Henry takes a seat, and Friday helps the first child come up to greet him.

We’ve devised a system. We bought a bunch of toys, and we hope that we have something on each child’s list. If we don’t, Henry is going to gently guide the children until they get to something we do have, in hopes that no one leaves empty-handed. We want each child to leave with a memory and a toy to take home. Henry holds up four fingers for building blocks, two fingers for a doll, three fingers for…hell, I don’t even know what all the signals are for. But the wives are in charge of this part. They can handle it.

I make my way around the room, so that I can be sure all the parents and grandparents are taken care of. I want to be sure that everyone leaves with something, even if it’s just well-wishes from one of us.

Some people have refused our money. And I respect their need to maintain their dignity and self-respect. I hope their families have heat, food, and shelter for the holiday.

I watch my wife as she slips a hundred dollar bill into a woman’s purse without her seeing. She looks up at me and grins, and my heart swells in my chest. I love her so damn much. She’s my miracle, in more ways than one.

Emily

While the line to see Santa is moving, I set up my guitar at the front of the room by the microphone. I figure I could at least sing a few Christmas songs with the people here while they’re waiting. I tap the microphone to get their attention. I start off with “Frosty,” and then I move on to “Rudolph” and some old favorites. The adults call out names of Christmas hymns, and then they join me in singing them.

There’s so much love in the air that I’m finding it almost hard to breathe it all in. I stop and take a deep breath. “Would you guys like to hear my new song? I wrote it just for you.”

The crowd claps. I’ve been touring with the Fallen from Zero girls, and my songs are on the radio now, so some of these people know who I am.

I nod and start to strum.

Lashes on fingertips

Soft kisses on my lips

Clovers and rainbows

Looking for luck—no one knows

It hits you like a freight train

Gone is the soft rain

You no longer feel sane

Confidence wanes

But I ain’t no plain Jane

And neither are you…

Lashes on fingertips

Soft kisses on my lips

Clovers and rainbows

Looking for luck—no one knows

I get to my feet

Get up off my seat

Go find something to eat

Make myself up all neat

’Cause I ain’t no cheat

And neither are you…

Lashes on fingertips

Soft kisses on my lips

Clovers and rainbows

Looking for luck—no one knows

I am strong

I am powerful

I am loved

I am wanted

I am careful

And so are you…

Wherever you go

You just have to know

You reap what you sow

And sometimes it blows

But you are strong

Powerful

Loved

Wanted

Careful

And most of all you are…here.

I set my guitar to the side because I couldn’t squeak out another word if I tried. I feel like these people have pulled my guts out and they’re dangling there for the world to see. It hits me hard because I am them, and they are me.

Logan comes up onto the stage and wraps his arms around me. He’s my home.

The girl we met on the street corner approaches me after everyone has started talking and walking around. “I used to play music,” she says.

“Guitar?” I ask. I hold it out to her. “Give it a try.”

She sits down on the edge of the stage and balances my guitar on her knees. She starts to play, and she’s really very good. She looks sheepishly up at me when she’s done. “It has been a while.”

“Do you have a guitar?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I did, but I had to sell it when my mom died.”

“Come by the tattoo shop tomorrow. I’ll leave a practice guitar there for you.”

She smiles. “Really?” Then she shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”

Just because I can
. “Because I want to.”

She nods and gets to her feet, handing my guitar back to me.

“Where’s your sister?”

She giggles and points behind me. I see Henry hold up five fingers and I know what that one means. “Can I do this one?” I ask Friday.

Friday nods and looks at me askance. “Sure.”

“You guys come with me.” I motion them toward the door and they follow me. The younger girl has her hand tucked into the older girl’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To get your present,” I tell her.

She looks down at her sister. “What did you ask for?”

I walk with them into our apartment building and go up a set of stairs. At the top, I stop and take out a key. I open the door and let them walk inside, turning on the lights. “You asked for a home, right?” I ask the little girl.

She nods and grins.

I hold my hands out. “Santa said this was for you.”

It’s just a one-bedroom apartment, and it’s furnished sparsely, but it’s more than they’re used to.

“This is for
us?
” she asks.

I nod. “Santa said so.” I look at the older girl and I see a spark of hope in her eyes. “It’s yours for three months. Take some time and figure out where you want to go and what you want to be. It’s safe here, and it’s yours. You’ll have to share a room.”

She chokes out her next words. “I’m okay with that!” Then she hugs me. I try not to think about what she would have been doing tonight if Logan and I hadn’t bumped into her on that street corner, because I know there are so many more just like her that we can’t help. But we helped this one, and I love that we are in a position where we can help anyone. “Thank you,” she says softly by my ear.

I give her a key, and we lock up behind us. There’s already food in the fridge, and we have gift cards to give them for clothes and necessities that were donated by local businesses.