The Caroler
It was cold. Hell, it was winter, of course it was fucking cold, he damn well knew that enough. Spitting out of the side of his mouth he felt the freezing air cling to the remnants of saliva on his cheek. It felt like hell but to him, everything these past few months had been nothing but hell.
The apartment, the car, the job, everything had gone to shit for him, only thing he still had by the end of it all was her… and even she wasn’t there anymore. The incident made sure of that.
He kicked at a pile of slush as he walked on, uttering a few curses at the cold as he dredged down the street to the local coffee shop. After a hard day of job searching, he needed a nice hot chocolate spiked with a little something from the flask in his back pocket. While it would not completely improve his sour mood, it would at least take the edge off enough for him to not snap at the first unfortunate soul to cross his path.
Speaking of which, he was pulled from his thoughts by a rather rude man kicking a rather chilling bit of sopping wet slush onto his leg, almost instantly soaking through his jeans and winter sock. As anger filled in his eyes his hands tightened into white-knuckled fists, ready to strike, but as soon as he turned around the man had already disappeared into the city crowd.
“Ah, bloody hell…” He grunted to himself, kicking at the air, “Bastard got away.”
His angry eyes scanned through the crowd searching for the fucker that had earned his ire, but after a few moments he just gave up, shaking his cold hands out and bringing them up to his mouth. He let out a very angry breath into them and rubbed, turning on his heel and continuing his walk.
“Just another day,” he mumbled as he continued his march. “Another day in this godforsaken country with these godforsaken people in this godforsaken city… no one even looks up ta watch where they’re goin’; too damn busy on their smartphones and other junk those companies dish out once a month. Next big thing, always, no one ever stops ta remember what they had and what it meant to ‘em.”
He took in a deep breath and adjusted the derby on top of his head before burying his face into the scarf she had made for him all those years ago. “At least the coffee shop’s a block away.”
The crowd between him and the coffee shop must have been able to see the murderous intent in his eyes because everyone he passed seemed to rush to one side or another, afraid he would stomp them into the sidewalk if they didn’t. To be honest, he probably would have with the shitty mood he was currently in. The only thing that soothed his ever mounting rage was the melodic sounds of the caroler that had started to sing next to the cafe a few weeks ago. He didn’t understand why but listening to her always seemed to calm him down.
But today, there was no music, just the normal busy sounds of the hustle and bustle of the city that surrounded him. Normally, this wouldn’t be of much concern to him, but on this particular day he wanted to hear the mother fucking Wexford Carol more than ever, he was in a bad mood, his interview earlier that day fell through, his leg was soaked and freezing to the bone. That, complemented by his usual temperament, made him particularly dangerous to cross.
“‘ere the hell is that lass?” he asked himself, checking his watch, “usually belting out Rudolph by now, wonder if she–”
The faint sound of a woman shrieking in an alley cut off his sentence. He’d heard that kind of scream a lot in his near six years in America... He entertained the thought of just continuing his death march to the cafe, but the little voice in his head forced him to take a turn down that dark back alley.
As he drew closer to the source of all the commotion, his ear twitched as he heard the shaking voice of that caroler he had been thinking of. His slow walk now turned into a light jog as he continued to search for her, the sound of the city fading the further he went down.
“S-Stop!” he heard her voice again as he rounded the corner to the next alley, finally spotting a group of boys gathered at the end of the path. “I already said I would let you have some of the money. I need the rest for my sisters!”
Even with the sounds of the bustling city night life clattering on in the background, he heard the very distinct clink of metal echo down the alley as one of them pulled out a pocket knife. “And we’ve told you to give us everything you have. This is your last chance, bitch.”
“Oi!” he shouted, his booming voice making four of the five bullies jump in surprise.
As the others all turned and squared up to me, their leader looked him up and down before shooting a cocky sneer and a mocking whistle. “Didn’t realize they stacked shit so high,” he said, still not turning completely to face him. “Get lost. This ain’t none of your concern and I’m not in the mood to deal with any hero bullshit today.”
“What a coincidence,” he said, taking off his very warm overcoat and placing it atop a nearby tin trashcan. “I ain’t in the mood to put up with any shite either. Let the lass go n ya might leave ‘ere without anythin’ broken.”
He rolled his shoulders, causing his stiff joints to crack as he warmed up his muscles. Suddenly, he noticed the once cold weather was starting to get warmer. The sound of the bustling streets slowly morphed into an anxious crowd waiting to see the next fight and just like that, he was walking into the ring.
There was a certain calmness in his eyes that caused the leader of the band of thieves to finally give his full attention. “You know, it ain’t cool being no jive turkey so close to the holidays,” he said, brandishing his three-inch switchblade at him. “Last chance before I carve you up like a –”
The sound of his knuckles cracking as he continued to walk towards the group was loud enough for them to get the clue. He was not going to back down regardless of what they said.
“Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perishfrom the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.” he said, tapping the tips of his boots against the ground as his arms flexed and a wicked smile crawled over his face.
Two of the boys laughed. “This fucking spud thinks that quoting some movie is gonna scare us off!”
“Guess the ginger doesn’t get that it’s five against one,” the other chimed in.
“First, my words are from the Bible, ya should give it a read,” he said, starting to bounce on his feet. “Second, I reckon I’ll be goin’ against three a ya, seein’ as at least to a ya are gonna turn tail and run like the cowards ya are.”
The leader of the group laughed. “You know what, I don’t give a shit how big you are. I’m gonna have my boys cut you up into tiny piec–.”
A flurry of powder took flight as he lunged towards the group, catching all of them off guard as he dipped his shoulders towards their leader. His left fist struck the ringleader right in his abdomen, causing him to double over in pain and right into the boxer’s right hook, sending him ass over teakettle onto the cold asphalt.
Just as the leader’s body hit the floor, the boxer jumped back to a safe distance, shaking off the blood from his hand and admiring his work.
Two of them were squaring up and ready to brawl, but the others were shaking in their boots and looking for a way to escape. He smiled.
“One down, two to go…”
The men looked to one another, seemingly agreeing to attack at the same time. A smart move, seeing as he easily stood a head taller than both of them.They lunged at him in tandem, but he was much faster on his feet then he looked. Within the blink of an eye his gorilla-like hands wrapped around the far side of his assailant's heads, and less than a moment later the two found their skulls slamming into one another before staggering away. Sure, he could’ve crushed their heads like a pair of grapes in a vicegrip, but he forced himself to hold back knowing that the last thing he needed was a pair of life sentences.
“Oi, that all ya got lads?” he asked, egging them to continue. “Talking all that shite and ya can’t even back it up? Christ, are all ya’ll just big talk an no action?”
The remaining two looked to their beaten friends and then back to him. As their comrades stumbled back to them they looked to one another and nodded before focusing their attention back to him.
“Well looks like I was wrong fer–‘Ey! Get back ‘ere!” he bellowed, turning to chase after the five punks making a break for it with the caroler’s money. Were it not for the silent sobs of the poor girl, he would have hounded them down and dragged them back kicking and screaming, but right now she needed his attention. In all of that mess he didn’t bother to see if she was alright.
He picked up his jacket and walked over to her, being careful not to startle her as she sat in the snow crying into her gloved hands, shaking from both her sobs as well as the cold.
“Oi, you alright lass?” he asked, looking down as his towering figure cast it’s shadow over her.
The girl didn’t respond to him, she just continued to weep, seemingly unaware of the giant that stood at her side. Annoyed at that fact, he spit over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest almost looking like his father when he was disappointed.
“Ya can’t let people walk over ya like that lass,” he began in a commanding tone, irritated that he couldn’t chase after the cowards. “Stick up fer yerself, fight back, don’t be such a damn pushover and maybe–”
His lecture was cut short when the woman’s eyes finally met his, red and streaming with tears, the only word that he could describe it as was despair. If he could’ve kicked his own ass, he would’ve, letting out a deep sigh as his hand slowly slid down his face. Went too hard on this one boyo… he thought to himself as he watched her go back to weeping, just like ya were too hard on ‘er the day she–
He had to shake the thought out of his head before continuing, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. There was a girl that had just been robbed at his feet and the last thing she needed was some giant of a stranger scolding her and telling her to fight her own battles. By the looks alone she didn’t appear to be able to hold her own in a friendly arm wrestling match, let alone a fight with a group of lowlifes armed with knives. As she continued to cry into mittens a thought came to his head, one that hadn’t really surfaced since the accident.
“Can’t believe yer doin’ this right now boyo,” he muttered under his breath as she knelt down to the woman.
“‘ey, lass, ya gonna be alright?” He asked as he reached for her shoulder, but he hesitated. Something about her seemed too delicate for him to just outright touch her. Still, he needed to get her attention and mere words weren’t cutting it. It was then that he noticed her shivering getting worse. Looking at the coat in his hand, he knew what the right thing to do was.
The caroler jumped slightly as he draped his coat over her shoulders and looked up at him again, this time more like a scared puppy than a traumatized young lady. A warm smile graced his features as he held a hand out to her, trying to show her that his kindness was genuine.
“That better lass?” he asked giving his jacket a good pat-down in an effort to set it better on her. “Pretty damn cold today, be a shame if ya went and froze out here. C’mon, let’s get something to warm ya up.”
She continued to stare at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. “I–I don’t have any money. They took everything I had,” she said, her voice shaking a little less than before.
The man patted his back pocket, gently placing his arm around her and walking her out of the alleyway. “Don’t you worry none, lass. This’ll be my treat.”
“But Adagio told me not to accept handouts! I have to do something for it.”
He gave a quick scratch of his beard before feigning a revelation. “Tell ya what, how ‘bout I buy you a drink and give ya some money if ya sing me a song. Had planned to drop by yer usual spot to listen anyway and I could use the company.”
As she was trying to process what he had said, he continued to lead her to the front of the cafe. The moment they rounded the corner, his eyes began scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the punks that got away. He let out a heavy sigh, the foot traffic was far too dense for him to see any discernible characters in the crowd. Still, it was probably for the best. Right now the lady needed his presence more than he needed to continue to vent his frustrations.
“Thank you, sir,” she said rather meekly, but without the trembling in her voice that had been there earlier.
He smiled at that, glad to see that she was doing slightly better. “Think nothin’ of it Miss… Uh.”
“Sonata,” she answered with a little smile. “My name’s Sonata Dusk.”
“S-Sonata?” he asked, blinking a few times as he tried to comprehend the name. “Were yer parents gypsies er somethin?”
Sonata stared at him for a minute or two before finally letting out a rather adorable little giggle and holding his arm tightly to her chest.
The young lady clung to his side all the way up to the entrance of the cafe. When they reached the door, he pulled away from her to get the door both the warmth and aroma of the various coffees and spices wafting out into the open air.
After she shuffled inside, he followed suit and guided her to a corner booth next to the large old-stone fireplace. As he walked up to the counter to get them both something to drink, he took a moment to look around the old fashion cafe. Despite the modern look you would get by looking at the place from the outside, the cafe had a very old fashioned look and feel to it, reminding him of the old taverns back home more than any coffee shop he’d been in prior. The wooden roofing and stained oak floors gave off a certain scent that was captivating to the young man and had been one of the reasons he always stopped by.
“Hiya!”
His heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest and take shelter under a table. He was not easily startled, but this pink, frizzy-haired waitress always seemed to catch him off guard whenever he came in. She just seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Welcome back, mister! What can I get for you?” she asked, pulling a pad and pen out of her apron.
Still recovering from his shock, the man did his best to regain some composure. “Yea… Im just gonna have–”
“Your usual straight black with a spoon so you can mix in your own special creamer?”
He honestly didn’t know what was more disturbing; the fact that she already knew what he was going to order despite having never seen her before, or her bubbly smile.
“Uh, yea,” he managed. “I also need somethin’ for my friend too. Might now what she wants?”
After he gestured to their table, the pink haired waitress shot a glance around him to get a better look. The moment her eyes fell upon the young lady sitting at his booth, the waitress let out a rather excited gasp. “Oh my gosh, Sonata made a friend! I am so happy for her. She comes in here all the time, but she never talks to anyone. Well, except me, of course. Everyone who comes in here talks to me!”
Once again, the man was caught off guard but pressed onward. He was already starting to get a headache from the waitress’s energetic attitude and manner of speaking, and the longer he stayed in contact with her the more likely he was going to start to show his annoyance. “Yea, by chance know what she wants to drink?”
The pen in her hand clicked as she pressed it against her right temple and scratched. “She usually just gets a cocoa with extra marshmallows….”
“Then I’ll just order that and my coffee, if ya don’t mind,” he said, shooting a glance back at the young lady waiting for his return. The moment he turned back, the waitress had already retrieved his drinks.
Again, the waitress wore the most sincere smile on her face. “If you don’t mind me asking, was she with you earlier today? She normally sings outside but today she left kinda early…”
With a heavy sigh, the man gave a general explanation of what had transpired to the waitress, and her initial shocked reaction was to be expected. After he had finished speaking, the waitress shot another glance over to Sonata, a much more concerned look in her eyes this time.
“Should I call the police?” she asked, eyes darting from Sonata, to the man, and back behind the front counter.
“Nah, the cops can’t do nothin’ now. ‘sides, they are probably high tailin’ it back to whatever sewer they crawled out of.”
“O-oh. Alright then. Just let me know if you two need anything,” she said, her somber tone slowly being replaced with her former vigor.
“Thanks. How much do I owe ya?”
The waitress giggled. “It’s on the house. Just take care of her, you hear?”
“Oh. Well, thanks a lot ma’am,” he said as she turned on her heel and began bouncing back to help the other customers around the cafe.
“Ma’am? Yuk! Just call me Pinkie!” she said, finally bounding out of sight as she disappeared around the corner.
The man shook his head, trying to process the second strange name he had heard today. Definitely a gypsy, he thought to himself, finally returning to his little booth, warm beverages in hand.
He made he way back to Sonata, who was currently staring out the window, watching everybody going about their business with a rather blank, yet contemplative stare. Her mind must be everywhere right now. He thought to himself as he took a deep sigh, hope she’s alright. He took his seat across from the young lady, gently placing the cocoa in front of her, causing her to jump slightly before finally turning her attention to him.
“Thanks a lot,” Sonata said, taking the small cup in her hands before giving its contents a long whiff. “Oh my god, I love hot chocolate... And look, you even got me marshmallows!”
He shot her a rather warm grin. “The waitress told me that’s what ya normally get when ya stop by. She was also a lil worried ‘bout ya.”
Just as Sonata was about to place the hot cocoa to her lips, her amazing smile disappeared and she placed the cup back down on the table and kept staring at it. “Oh, well I guess that’s just like her…”
The two sat there for a few minutes in silence, slowly sipping at their drinks tentatively. The quiet was beginning to make him feel slightly awkward, so after shooting a glance her way he also lowered his coffee. “If ya don’t mind me askin’, what happened out there?”
Sonata let out a sigh, not taking her eyes off of her cocoa. “I sing outside of the coffee shop everyday to try and get some money for my sisters, but I was feeling a little under the weather so I decided to take a small break and walked into that alley. I saw a homeless man sitting there and he asked me for money. I told him I didn’t have much, but was happy to share what I had,” she said clutching his jacket closer to her body.
The warm grin that was on his face slowly turned into a frown as she continued. “He wasn’t happy with how much I gave him, but then another one popped up, then another. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded and they started pulling out their knives and I was afraid they were about to… To–” she stopped, a fresh wave of sobs starting to overtake her.
“I just wanted to help, was that wrong of me?”
“Now now lass, it ain’t yer fault,” he said as softly as a man of his stature could, “sum people are just gonna try ta leech everything outta ya, and sometimes they’ll take more than what anyone should have ta offer, t’is the way of the world nowadays… whether we like it or not.”
He paused, thinking about his words as his hand gripped tightly around his porcelain mug. Why did he have to mention that? Of all the damn things he could say in an attempt to cheer the girl up he had to bring his own problems into the mix, not only that he sounded cynical beyond normal comprehension, like he just accepted every negative thing that came his way. Certainly not the message he’d prefer to give to a young woman who’d just been mugged. Without thinking, he pulled the flask he had in his pocked out and undid the cap, taking a quick swig before pouring the rest into his cup of coffee.
“Oh what’s that?” Sonata asked, pointing to the flask in his hand, “some kind of sweetener?”
“I… guess you could say that?” He answered awkwardly, brow cocked nearly to his hairline in confusion.
“Can I have some for my cocoa?” Sonata asked rather adorably, shaking her cup side to side like an excited child asking for a refill.
“Uh…” he replied, his eyes darting between her and the cup, “yer old enough ta drink right?”
“Like, yeah I am!” Sonata answered, waving her hand passively, “I’ve been able to drink since the day I was born!”
His face fell blank as he continued to stare at the woman adjacent to him, trying hard to comprehend the words that she had just said. Surely she wasn’t that dull witted, was she?
“I... don’t think that’d be a good idea lass.” he finally said putting the cap back on his flask before taking a long sip from his mug. The slow burn he felt as the beverage warmed his body was a very welcome reprieve from the cold bite of the outside air. He was rather glad that he had already removed his coat.
“Oh, come on, dude,” she whinned with a pout and a slump of her shoulders.
He looked between his flask and Sonota, his mind going through every possible scenario. Finally after a rather lengthy moral debate within his mind he took a deep breath in and handed her his flask.
“Saint Peter’s gunna be shakin’ is head at me fer this one…” he said as he watched Sonata grab for the flask’s cap in what felt like slow motion.
Time seemed to freeze when the unmistakable clink of the cap hit the table, signifying to the world that his poison of choice was opened and Sonata seemed none the wiser. It felt like a horror film as he watched her raise the flack to her cup, the dark brown contents flowing into what remained of her cocoa. Several loud glugs later Sonata set the flask down and swirled the concoction within her cup to what she deemed perfection.
“Let’s see how this tastes!” Sonata said happily, further amplifying the dread he felt.
He could feel his heart skip a beat as she rose the cup to her lips, shortly after she took a gulp, and then another, and another until finally the cup was completely empty. He was almost impressed, not very many people could handle his choice of liquor so well. Taking a sigh of relief he leaned back into his chair and smirked. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought to himself. Lass can clearly ho–
“Woah…” Sonata mumbled, interrupting his thought. “T-that… that was, sum *hic* sum sweat’ner…”
“Ya just had ta say somethin’...” he grumbled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “didn’tcha lad?”
“Ya din say anythin’ lad,” Sonata giggled, “What was that stuff anyway? I gotta show mah sis–*hic*–ters. They’d looooove it!”
“No.” He said bluntly.
“Oh c’mon!” she winned, reaching for the flask as he pulled it as far away from her drunken gropes as he could while still remaining in their booth. Still, in her drunken stupor, she followed the flask like a moth to a flame and began crawling over the table further and further to reach it. “Just lemme see it again… I promise–*hic* I promise to jus… Hey, I din’t realize you were a redhead.”
It was then that a devious grin began to crawl across her lips, “I heard once that starin’ into a redhead’s eyes for too long will make you fall in love. Issit true?”
The man’s eyes narrowed and he raised a brow as Sonata drew closer and closer until the point where their noses were nearly touching. “Personal space lass.” he said sternly as he leaned away from her, “as fer the rumor, Only one I heard referin’ ta gingers involes stealin’ yer soul, now if ya don’t mind.”
He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, slowly easing her back to her side of the table. Once she was properly seated he decided to give her a quick once over, just to make sure that she would be fine if he left soon. This was really the first time he’d had a good look at her, and by all accounts, she wasn’t half bad to look at. Deep violet eyes, an adorable nose… his eyes continued downward, locking onto her chest. Despite the several layers of padding, he could still tell that there was a lot going on between her shoulders and her hips.
Suddenly he returned to his senses, shooting his eyes back up to hers, they’d turned from warm to sensual, he knew damn well that he’d been caught, but unlike most women, she didn’t protest. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it, though it was likely from the booze. A small hint of panic burrowed into the back of his mind, but he tried to remain stoic, like a man on death row knowing the chair was behind the next door. The panic further escalated when Sonata leaned in again. He nearly jumped out of his chair but, before push came to shove, she fell back to her seat and propped her head up on the table with one hand with a coy grin, keeping her eyes locked on him the whole time.
“So,” she started, sounding almost completely sober and tracing some indescript marking in the condensation on the table. “You said you wanted me to sing a song for you?”
Was this lass just fuckin’ with me? he thought to himself, taking a swig from his mug to hide his embarrassment. Guess she’s just full o’ surprises...
Another long drag from his coffee and the man was finished. With a slightly louder than intended thump on the table, he set it down and closed his eyes, remembering the melody in his mind. It was a Christmas tradition for he and his friend to attend the morning mass at the old Irish-Catholic church downtown and she had always remarked how much she loved it when they sang this one particular song. The sweeping vocals as the choir hit the high and low notes, the somber violins and woodwind instruments that accompanied them, and the subtle but definite presence of the organ playing lowly. Without thinking he began humming the tune, trying to remember the name the pastor always announced. The more he hummed, the more he remembered of the last time he had gone to that church.
It was far from a pleasant experience and one that he would never forget. It was a little over three weeks ago, and the snow had been coming down in a flurry of blinding white. He stood over the casket with the few of her friends that could make it on such short notice as they said their final goodbyes, before her body was sent back to her family back home. There were many emotions that went through his mind as he stood over her still form and they swirled through him in a confusing mass, but the one emotion that struck him the hardest was the crushing sadness and guilt he felt, the pain still too close for him to even think about putting it behind him.
“Was that the song?”
His eyes opened slowly, a few tears welling up in them but not strong enough to fully escape. “Aye,” he said, keeping his head back till the water in his eyes receded. “Just can’t remember the name of it.”
Sonata tapped her chin, humming the tune and trying to get a feel for it. “I think that was the Wexford carol.”
Something about that name stuck with him. “Probably is. Never was good with names.”
“Well then, let’s get outside so I can sing,” she said, hopping out from the table and starting her walk to the door with his coat still draped around her.
“‘Ey! Hold up a second!” he said, putting a generous tip on the table and chasing after the enthusiastic caroler. By the time he was finally on his feet, Sonata was already outside, rushing through the busy sidewalk to reach the corner.
For such a small girl, she was ridiculously fast. By the time he finally caught up to her, she had already finished warming up her voice and had cleared out a small patch of sidewalk beneath the lamp post.
“It’s bloody cold out ‘ere. I need my jacket,” he said reaching for his coat still clinging to the young lady’s shoulders.
Sonata’s eyes darted to the jacket in surprise, not realizing that she had been holding onto it for so long. “O-Oh, my bad.”
She handed him the jacket and he frantically tried to put it on, the cold burning his warm skin and making him shake like a leaf. Sonata couldn’t help but snicker at the sight, in the few brief minutes she knew him he was the quintessential tough guy, now he was squirming around like a little girl who’d just seen a spider. After a few seconds more of little girly squirming, he finally managed to get his jacket back on properly. The two stood alone outside the shop as mindless drones walked passed them without notice, blissfully unaware of what was about to transpire.
“Alright,” he said trying to pretend that nothing was amiss, “Ya got the floor lass.”
With a slight nod, Sonata cleared her throat and closed her eyes, recalling every detail of the song she needed to sing. It started with her humming a few bars, getting into the correct pitch and tone, but before long she opened her eyes and began singing.
“Good people all, this Christmas time
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done
In sending His beloved Son,”
“With Mary holy we should pray
To God with love this Christmas day
In Bethlehem upon that morn'
There was a blessed Messiah born,”
At this point, Sonata started swaying from side to side with the rhythm, giving herself fully to the song and dragging him into her performance further and further. The man felt like he was watching a professional christmas concert instead of a lone girl singing on a street corner.
“Near Bethlehem did shepherds keep
Their flocks of lambs and feeding sheep
To whom God's angels did appear
Which put the shepherds in great fear,”
“‘Arise and go,’ the angels said
‘To Bethlehem, be not afraid
For there you'll find this happy morn'
A princely Babe, sweet Jesus born,’”
In all honesty, the man was stunned. He knew from listening to her in the past that she was a good singer, but the way she carried herself, her relaxed shoulders, the smile in her eyes... They all reflected the passion she poured into her voice as she gracefully belted through the old irish carol like a true celtic woman. Fully immersed in her beautiful voice, the man closed his eyes and smiled, pulling the collar of his jacket up around his jaw. He took a deep breath and a distinct scent got caught in his nose; a coastal sea-breeze danced through his senses, taking him to a completely different state of mind.
“With thankful heart and joyful mind
The shepherds went that Babe to find
And as God's angel had foretold
They did our Savior Christ behold,”
“Within a manger He was laid
And by his side the Virgin maid
As long foretold upon that morn'
There was a blessed Messiah born,”
It reminded him of living in Inisfree as a lad and when he first met her. His grandparents lived in south Wexford, so every year his family took the long train ride to visit them. He remembered being bored out of his skull, never knowing when the trip would finally be over. That was, until he smelled the breeze from the Saint George’s Channel and knew they were less than a hour away from finally getting to see his elders. After they had gotten settled in, they always went out to see the Christmas parade as the villagers marched through the town square.
He loved seeing the lights, hearing the sounds of the happy drunkards as they slurred their way through the carols on their way from pub to pub, and joining the other kids as they played outside of the church. That was when he met her.
Her name was Kate O’Hara...
The man was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of a roaring applause as the crowd around him clapped, whistled, and cheered as Sonata finished the song. Somehow he had failed to notice how many people had gathered around until just this moment. He was so enthralled by the woman before him, it was almost as if she’d cast a spell over him with merely her voice. He quickly shook that nonsense out of his head as Sonata’s eyes opened, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she herself saw the crowd, but her shock disappeared when she saw him standing there, not for a moment taking his eyes off her.
“T-thank you all!” she stuttered as took a bow. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
It was clear that even she hadn’t realized just how many people had been watching, but she was quick to recover, smiling and waving at the people and searching the crowd for the man who had requested she sing. She wasn’t looking long, spotting the brick house of a man almost immediately and running to his side.
“What ya think?” she asked, bouncing with excitement.
The man wiped his face with a free hand and sniffed, the cold air getting to him more than he realized. “Ya did amazin’ lass. I knew ya had pipes, but that just blew me away!”
After hearing his praise, Sonata’s smile grew three sizes and she embraced him. Admittedly he was a bit shocked but after a few seconds and the crowd persuading him to hug her back, he finally gave in. Like a man reaching for a viper he slowly wrapped one arm around her, nearly making her entire head disappear behind his forearm, followed by a few awkward pats to the back.
A few minutes later, the crowd had finally dispersed and Sonata decided it was about time for her to head home. However, after what had happened earlier that day, she asked if the man would be willing to escort her back to her apartment. Of course, he was more than happy to oblige, so they set off from the cafe after topping off Sonata’s hot cocoa.
“Can I please have some more of that sweetener? It was soooo good!”
“Ya know that you’re gonna kill yer liver if ya keep a’ this,” he said with a firm shake of his head.
“Awwww,” Sonata pouted, sticking out her lower lip, “Fine… meanie.”
“It’s fer yer own good lass,” he replied almost fatherly. “Don’t want to become a lowly drunk do ya?”
She folded her arms in front of her and started walking a bit slower. “Maybe I do! After all, your face in the cafe after I was all boozed up was priceless.”
The man let out a hearty laugh, “So ya weren’t fakin’ it back there? Never seen a girl go from sober to pissed and back again so damn quick.”
Sonata shot him a quizzical glance. “Uh, I wasn’t pissed, I was just very dizzy. Big difference.”
“Just ‘ow we say it in Ireland. And if ya were so dizzy, then ‘ow were ya able to sing without fallin’ all over yerself?”
The sound of snow crunching under Sonata’s boots picked up in pace as she ran up behind the man, jumping on his back and causing him to stumble slightly. “That’s because I’m a professional!” she declared with a giggle before sliding off of the giant she’d wrapped in her arms.
“Well, so long as ya don’t make it a habit, I guess there’s no ‘arm in lettin’ ya have another swig of poison,” he said, moving a hand to his back pocket to retrieve his flask for the young lady. He patted his pants for a few moments, searching for it in one of his other pockets before the sound of pressurized air escaping a container caught his attention.
“Glad you said so, cause I was gonna do it anyway,” Sonata said with a devilish grin, flask in hand.
“‘Ey, gimme that back, ya lil–”
Sonata cut him off with a raised finger as she chugged the contents of his personal stash of alcohol.
“Cheeky lil minx…”
Again, she raised her finger even higher before finally drained the last drop from the flask. Eventually, she broke lip contact with the metal bottle and handed it back to him.
“Woah, your sweetener even better without cocoa!” she beamed, shakingly wiping away at her mouth, “You gotta show me how you make it!”
“Well ya gotta be patient takes a good dozen years ta make that stuff.” He answered as he looked to his wristwatch, “oh bloody hell, getting pretty damn late ain’t it?”
Sonata drunkenly looked up to see that the darkness of the night had started to overtake the city and the crowd that was once around them was long gone. “So it is, so it is…”
After about ten minutes of having to watch Sonata stumble down the street and flirt with inanimate objects, the man finally resigned to just picking up the poor girl and carrying her. While she had initially protested, she eventually climbed up onto his shoulders like a monkey would a tree.
“Onward, my noble steed!” she yelled, digging her heels into his ribs as if he were a clydesdale. “To the castle!”
“Keep that up an’ I’ll drag ya home,” he said sternly. While he did not mind carrying Sonata, there was still a threshold of tolerance he had and she was river dancing on that line.
She giggled, “Silence, my noble steed. We are nearly there.”
The expression on his face fell blank as he contemplated just dropping her right there, but unfortunately for him the gentlemen in him didn’t allow to go with his gut in this case. He continued to march on, the street lamps slowly coming on as he passed them. Wind swept loose snow across the empty streets and sidewalks as he continued on, normally he’d complain about the cold, the wind and the woman literally on his back, but this felt different, like it needed to happen, like it should be this way, like it belonged.
“Woah Seabiscuit!” Sonata playfully yelled as she pulled at his jacket like a horse’s reigns, “We’re here!”
The small apartment complex standing before him was very out of place in the big city, looking more like a run down retirement home than any place someone would be able to live in. The paint was peeling off the walls, several of the presumably vacant rooms had their doors left ajar, and everything smelled of mildew and rust.
“Just brings out the warm fuzzies,” he said sarcastically, walking up the old wooden stairs before helping her down from his shoulders.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s home.” Sonata said with a warm grin, seemingly taking the scene in before looking up to him. “Thanks…” she said softly. “You know, for the cocoa… and saving me. I don’t know what they would’ve done to me if you–”
“Perish the thought, lass,” he shrugged passively, inwardly agreeing that he was in fact pretty damn awesome. “Just doing the right thing, speaking of…”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing her the largest bill he had on him.
“What?” Sonata blinked, confused at his action, “I–”
“Ya sang a song right?” he asked, placing the bill in her hand, “Only right I give ya something, besides…” he paused looking to her complex before returning his attention back to her. “Ya deserve it.”
Sonata just looked at the bill in her hand, her thumb rubbed over the coarse surface as if it were a fine jewel instead of some crumpled green paper. “I know my singing was good, but one-hundred dollars is a bit much, don’t you think?!”
He just shot her a smile and laughed, “I make enough as is. Yea, this last month has been hell, but I have enough money to make it another month or so without any issues. Think of this as both a thank you for doing so well today and as a Christmas gift.”
“B-But I have nothing to give you! We just met today and I don’t even know your name…”
“Lass, where I come from, it is customary to accept gifts for what they are and not to put up a big fuss,” he said, shooting her a playful grin. “‘Sides, name’s Donovan.”
“Now I need ta get roamin’ home myself. So…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to walk away. “Ya wanna meet for another drink tomorrow?”
He felt a strong pull on his other arm as he was spun around and what happened next took him by surprise. Sonata pulled him down slightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing the large man to turn as red as his beard and his eyes to go as wide as dinner plates.
“W-W-What?”
Sonata giggled and put her hand to her lips. “Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you are very cute. I would love to meet you for coffee again,” she said, opening the door and entering her home. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Donovan.”
Leaving the man speechless on her doorstep, Sonata blew him one final kiss before she disappeared behind the door. Donovan reached up to his cheek, feeling the wet spot she had left there. He didn’t even realize the goofy grin that had found its way onto his irish mug.
Finally, he turned and walked down to the street, feeling a lot warmer than someone who had to walk through the lonely city in the dead of winter. The further he got from the caroler’s home, the wider his smile grew, until he found himself whistling an old, familiar tune.
“In this here fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I once met a girl named sweet Sonata Dusk…”
Author's Note
Well guys, its been forever since I've published anything, let alone anything new. I really hope you all enjoy this story because this was definitely one of the few times that I wrote for me. I lost some very important people in my life this year and wanted to do this just to get out some of my anger, my grief, and some of my hopes of what is to come. Of course, this story was not my idea, but actually my good buddy Flanagan's. He and I have been writing together as author and editor for a few months now and have recently starting doing collaborations since October. If you like this story, please go check out his page as well. He updates far more frequently I do but with the same caliber of content if not ten times better.
Speaking of Flan, when I asked him to leave a message for you, here is what he said word for word:
"Manly grunt*
*Translation: Enjoy this shit. Chivalry worked his ass off to make this happen and you better fucking appreciate it!"
So, there you have it. From us, to you, Merry Christmas.
Oh, and there are several Classic Christmas References in this story. Find them all and win a prize!
