A 12th Street Christmas

Tina stood near the corner of Broadway and 12th, but not on the corner. She was not allowed to stand on the corner. She had to stand a ways back, an indeterminate but precise distance from where the others worked. If she did not… well, she hated to think about it.

Her phone rang, and the beautiful picture of her baby boy appeared on the screen, he would be six in three weeks. “Hey baby!” she said, a huge smile filling up the space between them, “are you ready for bed?” 

“Yes mommy! We played boats in the bathtub. There was a storm!” 

“Oh there certainly was," deadpanned his aunt Alex, who was not his aunt—more of a second mother really. 

“Jack Alexander Dobson,” his mother chided, “you better have helped your aunt clean that up!”  

“I did mommy.”

A heavyset man, the lines in his face showing his age, pulled up to the curb in an midsize SUV. “Hey honey, what you got under there?”

Tina ignored him. “Look baby, I have to go, mommy has to get to work now, ok. I love you!”

“I love you too mommy!” The screen went blank.

“I don’t have all day. You selling or not?”

“I’m selling. The question is are you paying?” She eyeballed the Cadillac SUV warily, a dent in the door indicating its age.

In response he flashed a wad of bills that likely contained less money than it appeared.

“One block down. Take a right. Room 243.”

Kevin looked over his left shoulder, and then pulled away from the curb faster than necessary. 

It had been a stress-filled week at his job as executive director of the town’s small symphony, a job that did not pay nearly enough in his opinion. With a series of Christmas concerts starting next week, he had had no choice but to stay at the office until almost seven every night this week, which was not normal—except during the holidays. He had come to loathe the Christmas season, which was only made worse by the charade he had to put on each year, as he masked his real feelings and smiled at the patrons as they entered the concert hall.

He hoped she wasn’t a talker, he didn’t have time for that. What Kevin did not know was that the feeling was mutual. If they could have exchanged no words at all, they both would have been happier, but they didn’t know that, so they would exchange the usual pleasantries, pretending they were friendly acquaintances.

This isn't therapy, was always Tina's outlook, at least not in the traditional sense, and she preferred to leave the talking to a minimum. Most John's didn't realize this, and because they were desperate for more than just sex, they often talked too much. Some cried.

Kevin pulled into the parking lot of the cheap hotel that tried to pass itself off as upscale and shrugged his shoulders. Eh, good enough he thought. There probably weren’t any bed bugs. A pang of guilt briefly crossed Kevin’s mind, but he stuffed it. He still loved his wife, the problem was she didn’t love herself. In fact, she had grown to hate them both.

At Tina and Alex’s small one-bedroom apartment, Jack was just falling asleep. Alex looked on, her heart filled with love. A small Christmas tree stood on a table in the corner, its white lights serving as a night light. Three small presents, poorly wrapped, one in brown paper, had been gently placed under the tree. She was glad they had found the used mattress that now lay directly on the floor in the corner of the living room. The foam pad would not have lasted much longer.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door, that caused Alex to jump with a start. “Alex! Tina! I know one of you is in there! You can’t both be working, not with that boy of yours. Rent was due two weeks ago! Let’s go. Open the door!” He pounded on it several more times, raising Alex's heart rate with each strike of his fist.

She sat motionless, frozen in fear on the worn brown leather sofa that had no support, praying that Jack would not wake up, but he did, blowing her cover. She knew she didn’t have to pay the rent with money, but she couldn't pay now, not with little Jack in the corner. And that was a dangerous road to start down. Her day shift with the anonymous Johns was one thing. Someone you saw on a regular basis, who had a key to your home was a whole different matter. She didn’t speak, as the dread continued.

“You have till December 25th, bitch. Otherwise, you’re out! And I am not going to waste time with eviction proceedings.” Jack's whimpering cry from the corner must have given him pause she thought. She heard his heavy boots move on, his footsteps echoing off the thin bare walls, and she breathed a sigh of relief. They would probably have the money by Christmas, she thought, but she said a prayer just in case.

On the other side of town, Kevin pulled into his three-car attached garage, the garage door opening automatically as he arrived. He got out of the Cadillac, slammed the door, and walked to the end of the drive to pick up the mail, though he didn’t know why. There would be nothing but credit card bills, and collection notices he knew, and advertisements for more things. He entered the house through the side door leading from the garage into the mudroom which opened onto their kitchen with the fake marble countertops. A darkened house greeted him. It really wasn’t a home anymore. And while it seemed that no one was present, he knew his wife was inevitably passed out upstairs in the master bedroom. He poured himself a finger of whisky and walked into the living room. Sitting down, he sank into what had once been an expensive leather couch, now worn with time, and kicked off his shoes. A large vaulted ceiling rose above him, while the blank screen of an ultra 4K television reflected his exhaustion, the latest addition to the Visa bill.

Kevin lay down on the couch with his head at one end looking up toward the wall, but sleep didn't come.  He got up, turned off the lights on the large Christmas tree, and lay back down. In past years it had once been surrounded by dozens of Christmas presents, but not anymore. A family portrait that he hadn't thought about in a long time looked down. It showed the family gathered around the Christmas tree, with many brightly wrapped boxes all around them. He wondered how much they spent on Christmas that year? It dawned on him that the photo must have been taken several years ago, just before Nate died.

Sleep still didn’t come, the picture staring a hole in his mind. It was just too much he thought. With a huff, he got up, took it down, and walked purposefully to the garage. The glass shattered as he threw it into the metal trash can.

In a much different neighborhood, Alex suddenly awoke with a start.

“It’s just me,” whispered Tina.

“Oh, I guess I fell asleep here on the couch.” She was still sitting in an upright position. A crucifix hung on the wall behind her, while a large television that was at least a dozen years old occupied the wall directly in front of her. She could see her reflection in the blank screen, and she looked more gaunt than usual. She would have to stop by St. Mark’s food shelf tomorrow she thought.

“You must be exhausted,” said Tina. They smiled at each other with that knowing look that two people share when they have been together a long time. "You would not believe the tip I got tonight" she said, "and it wasn't from a client. I'll tell you about it in the morning."

They made their way to the bedroom, where they shared a bed due to space and undressed. Lying down, they shared a brief touch in the darkness as sleep slowly enveloped them.