After discussing Christmas-themed stories with friends, I came up with this short story. Indulge in your favourite beverage, sit by a warm fire, and take a few minutes to read through it. I hope you enjoy it. Greetings of the season and Merry Christmas to everyone.
BEN’S
CHRISTMAS WISH
Two
days before Christmas and Mom and Dad were arguing again. Ben sighed. At six
years old, he knew Christmas was supposed to be a happy time but, listening to
the rise and fall of his parents’ voices as they tramped from the kitchen into
the hallway and then back again, he didn’t think they’d ever be happy again.
It
seemed to Ben they’d been arguing ever since he had asked, again, if he could
have a kitten. He’d wished for one at Easter but only received a chocolate
Easter egg. He’d asked for a kitten for his birthday, but Dad said no. And now
he’d written a letter as best he could, asking Father Christmas for a kitten
and that had made Dad cross.
Ben
pushed back his comforter and slipped out of bed. He quietly opened his bedroom
door a crack and still heard the murmur of voices below. In a sudden blast of
motion, Dad came into the hall. Ben sneaked onto the landing and peered between
the railings. He watched Dad pull on his jacket, zip it up and reach for a warm
toque. A gust of cold air swept in as the front door opened and closed with a
bang. Dad was gone.
Ben
could hear his mom crying in the silence, making soft snuffly noises. He didn’t
like hearing her cry and went back into his bedroom, thinking hard. Dad said it
was best to ask right away when he had any questions, so that was what he would
do. He’d find Dad and ask him why he was cross and why Mom was so upset.
He
pulled his Blue Jay Minors sweatshirt over his pyjamas, searched for his
Fireman Joe socks under the bed and wiggled his toes into them. He sneaked out
onto the landing, heard his mom talking and guessed she had phoned her best
friend Jill, who lived next door. He made his way downstairs and reached into
the closet for his coat and boots. He hadn’t heard the car start and thought
Dad couldn’t have gone far. If he ran, Ben knew he could catch up with him. He
pulled his boots on and let himself out of the house.
The
cold nearly took his breath away. He zipped his coat and pulled the collar up around
his ears. He should have put on a hat, too, but he was not going back until he
found Dad. Snow had already fallen, and Dad had shovelled into great heaps on either
side of the driveway. Ben could barely see over them to the sidewalk beyond.
He
knew if he turned left, that would take him past Jill’s house and on around the
block. If he turned right and walked for a couple of blocks, he would reach the
plaza where Mom shopped and sometimes took him for a burger and fries. He liked
looking in the store windows and especially liked the gazebo in the centre.
Bands played there in the summer, and sometimes there were clowns and
face-painting. Now there was a little crib with Baby Jesus and Mary and Joseph.
Mom had told him the story about there being no room at the inn, and he felt
real sorry for any baby born in a stable.
Ben
had his head down against the cold. As he crunched through the snow, he
realized his boots were on the wrong feet and were pinching but did not stop to
change them. He had to find Dad. Looking around the plaza, Ben saw that all the
stores were closed, and their lights were out. What time must it be for all the
lights to be out?
The
only bright spot was a soft glow from the gazebo. He stood for a moment
listening to the bitter wind moaning in the bare trees and the Christmas decorations
rattling against the ornamental streetlamps on which they hung. He was suddenly
scared, knowing this wasn’t right and that he wouldn’t find Dad here.
Ben
ran towards the warm glow of the little lantern hanging above the crib in the
gazebo. Mom said Baby Jesus knew just about everything, so he ducked under the
guard rail and moved closer to ask where his dad had gone. Bending towards the
crib, Ben heard a soft, mewing cry. He reached over and parted the straw in the
crib. Something moved, and Ben quickly stepped back. Whatever it was, it was
still crying and would not come out. He reached out again, this time moving the
straw to one side.
There
in the crib, curled up and crying beside Baby Jesus, lay a kitten. It was gray
and white with black stripes on its head and sides. It opened its mouth,
showing tiny teeth and a pink tongue, as it tried to stand up on wobbly legs.
“You’re
cold,” Ben said. “Come on, little kitty, I can warm you up.”
He
unzipped his jacket, picked up the kitten and tucked it inside. He liked the
way its fur tickled his chin, and the crying changed to a happy purr. Ben could
feel the vibrations through its tiny body. It was like holding his Robby Robot
with the battery running. He sat with his back against the crib, talking to the
kitten, forgetting for the moment that he was looking for Dad.
The
kitten was more important. Dad wore a big coat to protect him against the cold.
The kitten didn’t have a coat. Dad would know how to get home, but Ben thought
the kitten must be lost. Dad could take care of himself, but the kitten had no
one but Ben to take care of it right now.
“You
know what, little kitty,” Ben whispered. “Mom helped me write a letter to
Father Christmas at the North Pole, and I asked for a little kitten. I think
you’re it, and I’m going to call you Christmas.”
Ben
was so engrossed in the kitten that he jumped when a voice somewhere way above
him suddenly said, “Now, now, young fella, what’s going on here?”
Ben
hadn’t heard anyone approaching. When he looked up, all he could see was a big
belly and above that a vast expanse of white beard. Ben had been told not to
talk to strangers many times, but there was something comforting in this man’s
voice, and he looked a little bit familiar.
“Come
on, son, give me your hand. I’ll help you up.”
Ben
took the offered hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He was
stiff with cold.
“What
have you got there?” the man asked.
“It’s
a kitten,” Ben said. “I think he’s lost.”
“Are
you lost?”
Ben
shook his head. “No, I was looking for my dad but found this kitty instead.”
“Does
your mom know you are out looking for your dad?”
Ben
shook his head again.
“Well
now, it seems to me we should take care of a few things here. First, let’s call
your mom, so she doesn’t worry. Know your telephone number, son?”
“Yes.”
Ben took the cell phone the big man handed him and punched in his number. It
rang once, and then his mom said, “Hello.”
“Hi,
Mom, it’s me. I went to look for Dad and found a kitten…”
“Ben.
Thank goodness. Where are you?” Mom’s voice sounded shaky, and Ben thought she
might still be crying.
He
squinted up at the big man beside him. “I’m in the plaza with Baby Jesus and
Father Christmas.”
Then
his father came on the line. “Stay there, Ben. We’ll be right over.”
Ben
couldn’t figure out how he’d missed Dad. “My Dad got home,” he said as he handed
the phone back to Father Christmas.
“That’s
good. Now you’ll be going home to join them.”
Ben
sniffed and dropped his head to nuzzle the kitten in his jacket.
“Now
what’s that face for?” Father Christmas asked.
“I
don’t know if Mom and Dad have stopped being mad at each other, an’ I don’t
like when they shout. I think I made them cross,” Ben whispered.
“Well
now, that’s possible, I’ll grant you, but sometimes other things that have
nothing to do with their boys or girls make moms and dads cross.”
“Really?”
Ben wanted to believe him, wanted to forget Mom crying.
“Yes,
really. You’ll see and, if I’m not mistaken, this is your mom and dad now.”
A
car, headlights slicing the night, slipped sideways on the entry into the
plaza, fishtailed again and drove across the empty parking lot towards them.
The doors opened, and Mom and Dad were there, together, hugging him, scolding
him, asking if he was all right.
“I
am, but I think you’re squishing my kitty,” Ben said. He opened his jacket and
out popped the little striped head, protesting noisily at the cold night air
and the commotion around it.
“Oh,
Ben, where on earth did you find it?” Mom stroked the kitten with a gentle
finger.
“It
was with Baby Jesus, Mom. Can I keep him, please?”
He
saw the look pass between his parents, and then Dad said, “We’ll take it home
with us for tonight and phone the animal shelter in the morning. It might just
belong to another boy, and we will have to give it back.”
“But
if it doesn’t, if no one comes for it, can I please keep it?” Ben persisted. He
held the kitten protectively against his chest with one hand and shook Dad’s
arm with the other.
“Ben,
we’ve been over this pet thing a hundred times…”
“I
know, I know, but I promise, I really promise I’ll look after it. I will, Dad,
you’ll see.”
Dad
looked Mom. “Susan?”
It
surprised Ben to see a smile curve his mom’s mouth. That pleased him. It was
much nicer than tears.
“Your
call, Don.” Mom spoke so softly Ben could barely make out the words. He looked
at his father and saw that he was smiling now.
“Christmas,
you’ve got a home,” he whispered to the kitten.
“In
the car, Ben,” Dad said, “and the kitten too. We’ve all had enough adventures
for one night. It’s time to go home and get warm.”
“And
Father Christmas,” Ben said. “We have to take him too.”
The
big man laughed. “I’m not Father Christmas, son. My name’s Bill Bryce. I’m the
security guard here.”
He shook
hands with mom and dad, wished them all a Merry Christmas and walked away to
continue his rounds as Ben got into the car.
As
soon as the doors closed and Dad started the motor, Ben opened his jacket, and
the kitten crawled out.
“You
know what, Christmas,” Ben said happily, “we’re going to have the best one
ever.”
THE END
Victoria Chatham
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