Chapter 7 #3
At the back end of one of the embarrassing tales, Joey appears through the door, waving his arms. “Whoa, whoa! This isn’t happening.
” He’s wearing a green Christmas jumper with golden tinsel running up and down.
It is gross, and I’m sure my face reflects that information back to him as he takes off his rucksack to show me the back, sporting a large Santa face with sunglasses on.
“I hope these guys haven’t been bothering you,” he says as Carl passes him his beer.
“No. They were telling me a few … things.” I smile while they laugh, leaving to grab a table while Joey’s elbows lean on the counter.
“How’s it been?” he asks.
“All right. A little quiet. Luis brought brownies, and the tips have been generous.” I reach beneath the counter without looking, tipping off the lid of the Tupperware.
“It looks like Marty and Steve are officially together now. So, you owe me five bucks. Everyone’s in their own groups. Me and Hector have played a few hands.”
“Crap. Marty and Steve, really? I was so sure Marty had a thing with Craig.” He reaches into his pocket and reluctantly tucks the five bucks into my tip jar.
I pass Joey one of the largest brownies.
He hesitantly accepts it. “You sure?” I nod, and he nibbles at the corner.
The pleasurable moan and roll of his eyes set my grin on fire.
His next bite isn’t as dainty, and he has to cover his chocolate-stained teeth as he offers it back to me.
“I’m so full. I don’t know why I’m still eating. ”
I take it from him, savouring the square inch that remains. I say with a mouthful, “You’re just a sweet-toothed bandit.”
He laughs, watching my lips, and I wipe my mouth, assuming it’s marked with chocolate. He gives his head a shake, looking over the bar. His eyes narrow with a light shake of his head. “Why do you do it?”
“What?”
“The men. You look after them so much. Spending Christmas Day with them?”
I know I don’t have to, but my fathers have always encouraged me to do it, and my eyes drift as I think about whether I should share the reasoning.
“You know Peter Pan?” I ask, leaning across the counter, and he nods.
We’re close enough that I lower my voice to a whisper.
“My dads would say how important it is to look after the boys, because life sucks for them too. There was a boy I knew, and my heart breaks for him, because he will never have the life he longs for. The odds are against him in every way. He just wants to love a woman, and because she doesn’t love him back, that’s his chance spent.
So, ever since I was little, they would say I’m like Wendy, and that the Lost Boys need my help. It’s my responsibility to do that.”
His head tilts with a beaming grin, most likely because I just shared a personal story rather than the sentiment itself.
“Yeah. I can see that. So, if you’re Wendy, am I Peter Pan?”
“Absolutely. The boy who never grows up?”
“Yeah, yeah! Wait, look! Look what they got me.” He fumbles into his backpack and pulls out his headphones and a matchbox-sized device hanging from the end of the cord.
“It’s an MP3 player. No CD. No cassette.
All the music is inside this.” He passes me the sleek black device.
No screen, only buttons. “They were going to be the next big thing before everything, well … you know.”
“How do you choose what you want?” I ask, unsure of how it works as I flip it back and forth.
“Well, it’s completely random, but there are thousands of songs on here already.
How amazing is that?!” His smile scrunches his cheeks into his eyes.
“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind, but I got you something.
” He delves back into his rucksack and lifts out a tired shoebox with a thin red electrical cord tied into a bow.
I hold it, giving it a little shake to judge its weight. “Joey … you shouldn’t have.” My cheeks heat and my fingers move, ready to pull the bow loose.
“Whoa! Don’t open it here. Wait until you get back.”
His smirk piques my curiosity, making me more motivated to get through my shift.
“Well, thank you, Joey. Anyway, don’t stop here for me. Go be with your brothers.”
He hesitates, letting out a sigh. “I probably should… Merry Christmas, Lee Quinn.” His head tilts with a soft smile as he hangs back.
“Merry Christmas, Joseph Finch,” I say, and he looks away before skipping back to his brothers as they delve into their passionate discussion about … linchpins?
Throughout the shift, I can’t help but look over as they talk nonstop.
Seeing him with his family makes him different.
He has a life outside the bar. He isn’t just the guy who turns up and makes my day better; he’s a brother, a best friend.
I wonder why he is the way he is—so frustratingly positive all the time.
He doesn’t moan, he doesn’t complain. His optimism makes him appear colourful in this greyscale city, and his glow is contagious among those in his range.
When I clean up, I try to refuse when Joey and his brothers come to help, but they ignore me as I struggle to find anything to do when we finish in record time.
Joey’s youngest brother, Jack, is well beyond tipsy, being propped up between his brothers.
They leave the bar, singing and slurring together, and outside, the slushy streets darken beneath the starlight.
We lock up below the bar sign’s neon amethyst glow, when Joey lifts his arm around me, causing me to snicker at the beer on his breath.
He squeezes me tightly for a few seconds before he races to be with his family, but his warmth lingers, and I miss it instantly.
As he catches up with his brothers, he turns back, flashing a joy-inducing grin before disappearing around the corner.
His touch and smile remain in his absence, and it’s a shame that I have to be alone.
The night within the city is never as beautiful as that in the Wilds.
If I squint, I can make out the twinkle of night among the lampposts and apartment lights.
I often wish for a blackout. Losing electricity would be worth the reward of true darkness and a chance to glimpse the glitter of the sooty sky.
Even though it’s above me, the electric veil, the cloud of my breath, and the smog of misery make it seem even more distant.
It reminds me of my situation. Like a rat in a maze, day after day, I walk from point A to point B, enjoying my little rewards.
But if I were to simply hop the wall, I would be treated to the Wilds, a labyrinth I know my way around.
The unimposing tower of trees, the unshackled tendrils of green above the dewy, cool grass—I can even recall the tickle of their blades on the soles of my feet…
These treats are so close. Only a couple of miles on either side of me at all times, but this feels like another planet, and I feel weaker for it.
As if the Wilds fuelled me, and I am well overdue my serving.
After the walk home, my frigid fingers grip Joey’s gift as I step into the warmth of my apartment with comforting relief.
I breathe into my cupped hands to resurrect my frozen digits, but they still struggle to pinch the wire loose.
I slump onto my bed, lifting the lid and freezing at its contents: a pair of soft red slippers, a small portable DVD player, and a DVD of The Wizard of Oz.
The perfect Christmas present.
My bottom lip pouts as I lift the items from inside.
Holding the DVD up to inspect the artwork and seeing the characters again reminds me of home, of my fathers, and of my easier, earlier years.
It should be enough to make me explode into tears.
They’re there as they catch in my throat, lurking around my lower lids.
I imagine my fathers alive and well, doing the same at this moment, sitting and watching it together with me across the miles, but now it’s a tradition I’m forced to carry on alone.
A knock on my door pulls me out of the moment, with Sasha peeking her face around. “Hey, lady. You ready to celebrate?” she says with a pair of steaming hot drinks.
I lift the DVD to show her. “Absolutely. How about a movie?”