Still Looking for Christmas
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified that this wasn’t the worst injury she’d seen in her years. After all, it wasn’t difficult to tell his nose had endured a rather bad break. A bloodied face was not much of a giveaway, but the cock-eyed point upwards it now took was a little more indicative, flared along the face with the discoloration of heavy bruising. It must have been a vicious punch he’d received, if not something worse across his features; how on earth had it even happened in the first place? The news had yet to reach her ears, but she certainly wished to know it. Just maybe not quite yet.
“Could I get some Tylenol or something? This ice ain’t cutting it,” the young man said, a wiry teenager currently holding a rather hefty ice pack against his face. His eyes followed her around as she jotted down notes on paperwork for the primary care provider to receive: symptoms she’d witnessed, any medications already being taken, recommendations from her practiced experience. It likely wouldn’t be all that necessary, but it was part of the job.
“Your mother’s on her way to take you to the doctor. He’s going to need you as is to help apply the best care.” Nurse Redheart’s words arrived in calm manner, a rhythm of speaking she’d developed over the years to provide a professional and calm demeanor to her patients. Students had the tendency to panic- she would be their antithesis. “For now, keep the ice applied to your nose, breathe through your mouth, and keep your head leaning forward. We don’t want blood dripping down your throat.”
“Fine.” A clear disappointment, the young man eyeing her resentfully. “Agh, god- this sucks, can’t we just mash it back in place or something? Feels like I got a rock attached to my face.”
“That’s up to your primary care provider. If I do so and you have a far more serious injury-”
“My nose is broke-”
“And a broken nose can have differing levels of severity,” Redheart said, a bit more fiercely and retaking command of the conversation. “Prescribing the incorrect remedy can cause much more harm than help. I know it’s not pleasant, but your provider will need to see you and make that sort of judgment. Not me.”
“Lame,” the wiry teen muttered. Holding the ice a bit tighter to his fractured nose, he grimaced and gave a guttural sound of displeasure. “Wasn’t even a fair fight, either.”
With the majority of her medical requirements now finished, now came the next step of her investigation: the cause. “Did someone hit you?” Redheart inquired. Pen in hand, ready to hastily scribble down the incoming story.
“Yeah, it was- you know that big fat kid, Jabbers?”
If she hadn’t spoken with him a multitude of times, it was entirely possible she could have seen this mysterious perpetrator go by her office and not once known his name. “Can’t say I do,” she said. “Did he punch you?”
“He was messing with my girlfriend all through class. Even Miss Cheerilee couldn’t get him to stop,” the boy explained. “When I got on him once the bell rang, we started getting into it. He threw a couple of punches and one got me right on the nose. And I guess he threw a couple more cause I went to the ground.”
Oh dear. The broken nose now seemed to be the least of this young man’s medical worries, Redheart scribbling down the recommendation that he be checked for concussive symptoms. Emotions always ran hot in one’s teenage years, she knew it from her own life, but how angry had the two been to be willing to deal blows with such power?
“So… yeah. I got brought here, I dunno what happened to Jabbers. Guess the dude got kicked out or he’s with the cops,” the young man said, for the first time sporting a grin as he considered his opponent’s possible sufferings. Perhaps not equal to his current discomfort, but enough to sate him for now. “Now doc, come on, you sure you can’t just push this nose-”
“No. So stop asking.”
“Aww, come on. My girl would think it’s the coolest thing ever! I didn’t win the fight, I’ve gotta-”
“I’m not here for your ego, I’m here to get you healthy again,” Nurse Redheart said, a flat firmness in her voice that would brook no argument. “Don’t pick fights if you can’t win.”
The young man merely sighed and at last accepted defeat. “Ow.”
The knock on the door came soon enough, Principal Celestia standing beside a brown-haired woman who promptly rushed through the door to coddle her son, as well as chide him endlessly for getting into a fight in the first place; the ever-constant struggle of parenthood between nurture and nature. A few words exchanged between the two parties before mother and child disappeared, away from Redheart’s care and onto higher profession.
“That’s quite a bruise he had,” Celestia remarked. Biting her lip, a frown on her lips. “How was he?”
“Recommended him to be checked for a concussion,” Redheart said swiftly. “He likely has a more severe break, so it could be several weeks before it fully heals.”
“That’s about what I expected to hear,” Principal Celestia sighed, leaning against the doorpost and pinching her own nose between her fingers. “I’ve been talking to Cheerilee about what happened, it seemed to have involved a few other students. Not anywhere near as badly injured, but still.”
“It wasn’t a gang fight, was it?”
“No, no. Just a bunch of students used it as an excuse to throw punches,” Celestia answered. “Because what else do we do now, apparently.” Another sigh before she raised her head and gave her nurse a strained smile. “Thank you for taking care of him, Miss Redheart. It’s good to know we can always rely on you.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” Redheart said, returning back to her work computer without a second thought as her employer left her be and walked off. “And always will be.”
She’d been part of school staff for over fifteen years now. She’d spent her first few years out of medical school at a local hospital nearby, kept on-staff as a junior nurse until she’d finally decided that the ineptitude of the facility was too much for even a naïve young woman to withstand. Working as a travel nurse had seen her flit from here to there until she entered her early 30’s, roaming across the country for one reason or another and never staying in one place for long. It hadn’t been until she’d just so happened to help a woman about her age with the name of Luna that she’d known of CHS’ need for a school nurse, she and the two working sisters striking an oddball sort of friendship that had seen her leave her travelling profession. Had it been the years of severed connections that had seen her come here? The feeling that no place was home? Perhaps all of the reasons or none at all; Redheart had decided that Canterlot High was where she would work until retirement claimed her. Students were foolish and prone to injuries born from stupidity, but it was no different from a hospital, save perhaps that none of her patients here ever bothered to listen to her.
And there you go again, she mutely told herself. It was a frustration she hadn’t meant to vent, but it had come anyway. The young so often thought themselves invincible that getting them to follow basic common sense was nearly impossible! How was she supposed to actually treat people if they didn’t want to be treated? The constancy of foolhardy behavior ensured that she would never be short of patients at her door; it also often meant that none of her work would ever matter in the end, or be of any effect. She was willing to bet another one of the students involved in this fracas would be right here for much of the same thing. Waging war would be easier than this. At least you can win.
So absorbed in her work that the diligent nurse noticed not the sound of footsteps coming towards her open door, nor that they came to a halt just at the threshold. It was only the combined sound of a human’s cough and the rapping of knuckles upon door that Redheart was roused from her computer screen to find another now with her.
“Oh gosh- I’m sorry, hold on a moment!” Redheart cried, pushing herself away from her desk and bringing herself to a standing position. “Miss Cheerilee, what can I do for you?”
The dark-haired woman was slow to speech, giving an awkward sort of half-smile as she tried to sort through her discomfort. Though both had been on staff at the school for over a decade, neither of them had spent much time in conversation; Redheart was busy treating the stupidity of teenage patients just as much as Cheerilee was busy teaching them. And now that the dark-haired woman was here after a fight in one of her classes, the unfamiliarity was even more discomforting. What was one supposed to say when they’d hardly had words to share over the years?
“I wanted- I’m Cheerilee, but you already know that,” Cheerilee began shakily. “I wanted to… so the student you treated, he’s part of my homeroom class. And I’m sorry you had to.”
An odd thing to say, and Redheart knew it. She perked up just a tinge at the words, curious as to where her current companion was aiming for. “What do you need to be sorry for?” She asked, almost with a laugh in her voice. “You didn’t punch him, did you?”
“No, I just tried to break up the fight before it started, and- well, you can see I didn’t do a very good job,” Cheerilee said. “It was a silly thing that got them started, he got so angry that his girlfriend was flirting with another boy and so he started throwing fists… I was hoping I could get them to calm down.”
“A pair of boys fighting over a girl? You hardly had even a fighting chance,” Redheart commiserated. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Miss Cheerilee, truly. I’ve no doubt you did your best to help smooth things over.”
“Well, all the same,” Cheerilee said, “I wanted to apologize. And to thank you for helping. I know it’s been a… a rough semester for the school, and you’ve been really busy with the holidays coming up soon. So I wanted you to know I appreciate all the care you give my students when they need it. It means a lot to me.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Redheart said. “I’m glad I could help.”
They both stood there together for a little while, unsure what to say next and what turn the conversation was supposed to have. The day was long in the tooth, both women still had work to do, and weariness was keeping their tongues still. Redheart shuffled her feet for a few seconds.
“Well, umm… I hope tomorrow is nice and short for you, too,” Cheerilee said quietly, offering another smile, this one filled with far more warmth even if the awkwardness still remained. “Happy Thanksgiving, by the way. I hope you enjoy it!”
“And you as- oh, and she’s gone.” Redheart had tried to return the cheer before her fellow faculty was out of earshot and had found herself a bit too slow off the mark. Strange to see Cheerilee so out of sorts; she didn’t know the woman particularly well, but the teacher consistently seemed to be an upbeat, lively sort of person; whatever had occurred in her classroom must have been quite the ordeal to shake her up this badly.
“But still,” Redheart muttered as she returned to her computer and all the work within, “That was awful nice of her to come by and say thank you. You don’t get that very often.”
Her day felt a little less tiresome than it had been just a few minutes ago. Maybe she’d been overly frustrated about it all.
Being a teacher had gifted Cheerilee with more than a few senses regarding her field. One of them was knowing when a class was just going to be a particularly troublesome group of students. That no matter what you say or did, no matter how much brightness and life you tried to bring into their dreary world, the coldness and anger of youthful hearts were not going to be sated by anything you had to offer. And that maybe even a few would be offended by the offer.
She’d awoken early that morning, unable to return back to sleep and find rest until her alarm went off. After a half-hour of misery in the attempt, all that she could manage was to surrender to awakening and get ready for the day. But how long had she been able to linger? None at all, finding herself at work well before she’d needed to arrive, forgoing company in the teacher’s lounge and escaping to the solitude of her classroom. It had been a safe space once; quiet isolation where she could prepare herself for the day and prepare the classwork for the day. Today was more like preparing for a battle, steeling her will to go against the more youthful, fiery souls that would soon enter her classroom.
She couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever really dreaded doing her job before.
The sounds of footsteps echoed in from the halls, human activity and chatter of voices coming to meet her ears. Before too long the door to her world was opened, the brightest student of her class entering in and giving a quiet nod of hello. Juri, a sweet girl who consistently made top grades and rarely spoke a word in class; Cheerilee had politely tried to see if she would open up, but a near-semester’s worth of time had offered little headway to be found. There had been a few times she’d wondered if she was doing something wrong in her attempts to be amiable.
The classroom filled up swiftly over time, the student body she had come to know filtering in and taking their usual residency. A few made the effort to give her a smile and say a morning greeting, others turned to their neighbors and found camaraderie; many- too many, by Cheerilee’s estimation- kept to themselves and paid attention to their phones or nothing at all, intentional seclusion in the midst of their public world. Perhaps it was just a generational gap, but she hated to see them like that. So… cut off from the world that was just a hair’s breadth away. Maybe she’d been spoiled by the warmth that had been Sunset’s class year, how that vibrant group of girls had made the school liven up and connect on a different level. Perhaps it was her recollection of her own times in high school! But she hated to see someone be surrounded by so many people and yet so alone.
“Just biased, I guess,” Cheerilee muttered under her breath.
A sound of raised voices came to her ears and the familiarity of it made the lilac-haired woman’s stomach turn. Goodness, again? They’d entered into her classroom arguing with one another ever since last Tuesday; a boy and a girl fussing about some sort of incident that had cropped up after school had ended yesterday. The splint on his nose had done him no favors, a sort of goblin-ish appearance to his steadily sneering features. As he loomed over the skinny blonde beside him, she couldn’t help but see a predator looming over its prey in preparation to devour, and she a fierce item willing to make him suffer for the effort. It was the perfect sort of high school mismatch that happened far too often; they were horrible for one another.
“Class? Let’s get settled, please,” Cheerilee called. A quick glance at the clock above the windows was the reminder that they needed to get on track. “Mr. Roan, Miss Kayley? Take your seats now.”
“Give us a minute,” Roan snapped, not even turning from the spitting hiss that streamed from his girlfriend’s lips. His eyes flared as he spoke, a fire trying to stir to life within.
“We need to get started. Please do not do your fellow students the disservice of holding them up,” Cheerilee insisted.
“Miss Cheerilee? Just a moment,” the young girl said. She was at least a bit more polite, making sure to turn her teacher’s way- even if she had the snark to hold up a finger for silence.
One breath in, then out. For patience. “The period is about to start, you two. Let’s get it moving. Come on, this lesson is important.”
“Give me a moment, will ya? Shit,” Roan grumbled.
Steady now, Cheerilee counseled herself. She could feel the pricklings of anger about her brain beginning to rise, a heat in her chest. She had to be above taking this sort of bait; if she cracked at the merest sort of backtalk, she’d hardly be able to stand. “No, not a moment,” she insisted, and all about her she could hear the groans and muttering of her other students. “We need to get started. I want to have plenty of time for questions after we’re done, so sit down or-”
“Or what? What’re you gonna do?” Roan snapped, at last turning from his displeased girlfriend to face his antagonist, the fire in his voice now burning fiercely, he steadying up for another fight. “Like you can actually make me do anything.”
“Roan, come on,” Kayley said, trying to interrupt her boyfriend’s tantrum before the embarrassment really kicked in.
“Oh piss off, bitch,” Roan snarled-
“You will not speak like that to your fellow students, Mr. Roan,” Cheerilee commanded, now taking a standing position so that she might display some level of intimidation. He might have a good few inches on her, but she had authority at her back. “This is your last warning. Take a seat, do your friends this favor. They more than deserve it-”
“Like hell-”
“Or you and Miss Kayley can speak to Principal Celestia,” Cheerilee continued, “and explain to her why your conversation was more important than everyone’s education. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to deal with you again.”
It had been a colder strike than what Cheerilee preferred to dish out, but any other supplication had failed. For a time, Roan stood there and seemed ready to burst, even as his girlfriend urged him to cease his humiliating behavior and take the class’ eyes off of them both. She knew not what eventually made the synapses fire in his brain, but some signal was shot that made him accept defeat and trudge over to his desk and flop down, a scowl still on his face as he lay his chest atop it and look out into nothingness.
Cheerilee gave a sigh hardly audible to anyone before turning to her slideshow for the day. It was only the first battle of the day, and likely not to be the last; homeroom hadn’t happened yet, and too many of her students had other problems that would find their way to rise to life again. It was going to be another long day.
Lunch break didn’t come soon enough. At last, able to retreat to the serenity of the teacher’s lounge, be away from other voice and find some sort of reprieve in her meal! It wasn’t much more than a tuna sandwich and some carrot sticks, but anything that would be a salve to her tired spirit was more than welcome. That first deep bite was a delicious thing, juicy flavor of canned fish pouring across her tongue like a symphony to her senses. It was hardly spectacular, but just how well it struck! For a moment, Cheerilee leaned back and let the sigh filter out as little more than simple sound, eyes closed so as to relish the taste. What a pity it had taken all these hours for the first good thing to happen all day.
“… May I sit here?” A polite voice roused her from the peaceful reverie. Cheerilee opened her eyes to find Nurse Redheart standing at the other end of the table with a plastic bowl of steaming chicken hibachi in one hand and another on the metal chair before her.
“Oh!” She hadn’t really wanted company after the morning’s misery, nor was she in the mood to talk. But how was she to refuse without coming across as impolite? Besides, Redheart stood there looking so serene and pleasant; it would be unkind to say no. “Umm… sure, no one’s sitting there.”
“Thank you,” Redheart said, taking her seat and letting the heat of her meal pour across her features. “Ooh, that’s good. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Me, too,” Cheerilee admitted.
Redheart cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve… been looking forward to me eating-”
“Oh, no! Sorry, I meant lunch break!” Cheerilee said, and across her lips came the first laugh she’d given all day. “Sorry, I’ve- it’s been a nutty day, really. I don’t know what to do with this class.”
“Nobody who was involved in that fight is back already, are they?” Redheart inquired as she took to her bowl.
“Actually, they are. Several of them, in fact,” Cheerilee admitted. “I talked with Celestia about it the day before they came back, seems she could only suspend some of them for so long.”
“So you mean to say you’ve got a bunch of kids who started a fight already back in your classroom?”
“To include the offenders who caused the majority of the problems; the boy who got beaten up and his girlfriend,” was her answer. “Gosh, I don’t know what to do with them. They won’t break up and get it over with, yet they constantly cause issues for some reason. I can’t imagine what keeps them together!”
“I might know a reason,” Redheart admitted. “But it’s not exactly family-friendly-”
“Oh, I know what you mean. And yes, I think so, too,” Cheerilee admitted. “Goodness, I hope I wasn’t that stupid when I was that young. Do you remember being anything like that?”
“Far too much,” Redheart confessed, and the two women shared a laugh over individual memories. “They’re kids. And I guess it’s easy for us to get caught up in that sort of silliness when everything is so fresh and new to you.”
Memory came to life within both their minds. The actions of others, choices they themselves had made; so much passed by them in the flicker of an instant and all they could do was laugh. The thought of being in high school again, of being young again! Ridiculous and silly and stupid, but it had been part of their life just as much as the mistakes they now derided would be part of someone else’s. A catalyst of growth for some other day, when the time came.
“Hey- so, I had something on my mind,” Cheerilee said after their laughter had faded, “I wanted to thank you for the other day. I really appreciate what you did for that boy-”
“Oh gosh, don’t worry about thanking me!” Redheart said, enough sense in her mind to know where her current companion was trying to tread. “I’m just- it’s my job. Of course I was going to help him out.”
“And I’m sure he was plenty of trouble, too,” Cheerilee said. “So in case he didn’t say anything, I wanted to make sure you knew it was appreciated. You do a lot for this school.”
Redheart’s mouth went agape. For only a moment, eyes wide and heart on her sleeve as emotion played into the reaction; the small shake of self came to put mind and heart back into place, but even her stoicism couldn’t contain the effects that such a simple compliment had dealt. “Th- thank you,” she said meekly after a good while, playing with the decreasing remnants of her meal. “I don’t- I guess I’ve never heard someone put it like that before.”
“Like what?”
“Like what I do matters much here, I guess,” Redheart admitted. “I mean, I see so many people all the time, and I know who I’m with, but- well, they’re kids. If that makes sense.”
“I’m sorry about that, then,” Cheerilee said. “I hope you don’t feel like we don’t appreciate you, if that’s the case. You’ve done a lot of work to help out this school for quite a while now. I’d hate to think it’s been a thankless job all these years…”
“It is- and it isn’t,” Redheart said. “You’ll get plenty of polite students along the way, or people you connect with. Goodness knows Celestia is such an easy woman to work for-”
“Agreed-”
“But you get some student years that are just awful,” Redheart continued, “Like they just want to ruin lives as they go along. I don’t know what sort of demon gets into them.”
“It’s like they just wake up full of hate!” Cheerilee breathed, delighted to know her sentiments on the year weren’t a solitary thing. At last, someone had said how she thought! “It must be miserable for them, too, to be like this. Surely it isn’t their norm?”
“Considering how the world is,” Redheart said sadly, “I think it might be the norm for them.”
The two women finished off their meal in silence, whether it be the weariness of the world or the exhaustion of their tongues that brought them to silence. It wasn’t an awkward thing for them to experience, this period of quiet in the midst of their unified companionship. Perhaps instead it was a warmth of camaraderie that bound them to be speechless instead.
“I’ve got to get going,” Cheerilee said after a while, pushing back from her seat and staring at the empty wrappings that had been her plate. “But it was nice talking with you. I’m sorry it took so long for us to actually talk a little.”
“Same here. You have a good day, alright?” Redheart said, she herself rising with an empty bowl in hand. “Let’s try to meet up again at lunch sometime soon. Maybe we won’t be so gloomy next time and we can actually have a laugh.”
A friendly departure among them, the lounge filtering its people out as staff returned to their places of charge. For some, a classroom; for others, elsewhere. But in the midst of the normality and weariness that came with unhappiness and time was a glimmer of joy. Perhaps the next time lunch break came around, there wouldn’t be quite so much unhappiness to weigh them down.
At least it had occurred after her class’s midterms had been completed. Not much of a comfort for an extremely frazzled Cheerilee, but it was all she really had. It couldn’t have been much worse.
Tension had been the most apt description of CHS’ atmosphere since Thanksgiving break had ended. Was it that first taste of freedom for the school year that had twisted them in such a way? Being home, away from schoolwork and their cliques and stressors of teenage life for a little while; the end of a reprieve setting their moods to something ill. Heated arguments had become something of the norm over the past few days, some of them feisty enough that school faculty had been forced to intervene before the situation got truly out of hand. The onset of midterms had done little to help, only adding to the pressure.
It had seemed like a good day, from Cheerilee’s point of view. Everyone was eager to get their exam completed so they could go home, get away from the drudgery of schoolwork and enjoy the benefits of an early end to the day, especially when this Friday was a gateway to the Christmas break. Three weeks away from school? Any student, no matter how diligent, wouldn’t mind some rest. Her homeroom class had been –or at least had appeared to be- in good spirits.
As for herself? Though she usually cherished work, any time spent away from this class was time her soul needed to heal.
Looking back, of course it had been all too good to last. Her last class’ worth of exams had finally been completed, she had been making her way to the teacher’s lounge so as to retrieve her lunch cooler from the fridge and in good cheer, her throat filled with the hum of familiar old carols. But just as she’d felt the vibration of angels singing, the shrieking roar of a young man’s voice had erupted from somewhere down the hall and torn through her happiness. Of course it had been Roan in a towering fury, Kayley trying to slink away from him with the status of ex-girlfriend in her grasp even as she fired back shouts and taunts of her own. For a moment, it had seemed like the lanky teenager’s fury would sputter and be reduced to cinders, nothing more than sound that signified nothing; but then came that one solitary loping movement to bring a crushing grip onto the fleeing girl’s arm- and then a vicious strike across her cheek.
Cheerilee had of course tried to intervene; her voice was not a dominant thing, nor was her physique, but ceasing this unraveling chaos was her primary objective. Could she have said something else that would have calmed him, or had her attempts at quelling this anger been little more than further fuel upon the fire? The blow that had struck her next was at least not quite so vicious, just a hard shove into the lockers; it had been the metallic container’s handle ramming into the back of her head that had drawn blood. When the stars had stopped spinning in her eyes, she found her assailant held fast to the ground by several other of his peers and he raging against his subduers.
In her time as a student, Cheerilee had never had to bother the school nurse with any sort of malady. Coming to Nurse Redheart’s office as a patient nearly fifteen years after graduation was a strange sensation she didn’t quite know how to describe. Especially when it was the aftermath of one of her own students attacking her, and who was now under arrest. As an adult, and would likely be facing assault charges. And his life would probably be ruined so badly that she couldn’t help.
“Keep your eye open for me,” Redheart instructed, the bright beam of a flashlight filling Cheerilee’s vision soon after. “Good, now the other… good.”
“I promise, I feel fine,” Cheerilee insisted. She knew full well what Redheart was looking for, but the hit hadn’t been hard enough to cause any sort of damage like that. A mild concussion at the very worst, but surely that was so unlikely.
“Your pupils seem fine,” the diligent woman said, “but your voice worries me a little. Are you sure you feel alright?”
“Do I not sound like it?”
“You sound very monotone. It’s unusual to hear you like this, that’s all.”
“Oh. OK.” She hadn’t even noticed the dullness to her speech. “Sorry.”
“And you said you remember getting struck, as well as what happened immediately after your head hit the locker handle?” Redheart inquired.
The bandage about her head would have done the job sufficiently even if she couldn’t remember the blunt pain that had crashed across her skull. “Vividly,” she said. “Doubt I’m going to forget anytime soon.”
“And no numbness or tingling anywhere?”
“Nothing.”
Redheart gave a little sigh of relief and sank into her chair. “Well, that’s good to hear. You had a few people worried.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I doubt you meant for it to happen. Everything’s worse when there’s blood,” Redheart said. “Goodness… what a way to start up the holidays, huh?”
Cheerilee tried to give at least half a smile in reply, but her lower lip was seeking for a reason to quiver and she instead bowed her head. The sight of Roan, one of her students, crying out and clearly sobbing as he was being dragged off by police still consumed her brain. Just like his father, his mother had said when she’d been told the whole story, arriving in a towering fury at the news and leaving with her shoulders slumped. He must’ve seen his father and I like that a dozen times when he was younger.
“A cycle,” Cheerilee mumbled softly.
“Hmm?” It had been so faint that Redheart had only heard the sound of breath escaping lips rather than the meaning held within. “Did you say something?”
“It’ll just happen all over again,” Cheerilee said, her voice at first meek before growing into an unhappy groan. “His father was like that so he ended up like that, and- and it’ll just keep going, and no one will be able to help because they don’t want help.”
“Are... you OK?” Redheart asked.
“And there must be thousands of kids just like him, and- and…” Perhaps, if she’d had the strength, Cheerilee would have allowed her emotions to grow into a weighty crescendo. But instead all she managed was a moan and to bury her face into her hands.
“I know it’s rough for you right now,” Redheart said, “but don’t let it bring you down too much. It’s Christmas break, you’ll be able to get some rest. Three weeks to yourself to recover and be yourself again.”
“Yeah. And then- then they’ll all just be- it’ll just start all over.” She wanted to cry so desperately, let her grief be expelled in some form and see the weight upon her dissipate. But too exhausted, too wearied from the misery of the semester, too everything. It was an overload of emotions where not even the hope of rest could sustain her. The break would pass in an instant, Christmas would be little more than a blip. And then this miserable, unhappy, angry year of students would be back to weary her days with their hurts that she couldn’t heal. Just like everyone else, a miserable cacophony of hurt people hurting one another and unable to make it better, causing tension between loved ones and wars and pain that just never seemed to end, all of it wrapped up in the days where so many sang about peace on earth. It was as if every unhappy, sorrowful thought had decided to descend upon her and make her feel more alone, more impotent and helpless than ever, and any hopes for joy to the world were lost in the maelstrom.
Did she shudder by instinct? There was a part of her that seemed ready, eager to break, enough strength to see it begin. As though a siren’s call, Redheart gently, hesitantly, put her arms about her friend in an embrace; at first with space still in between, but then a deepened action as Cheerilee sagged into her grasp and rested in the small spate of affection. A chance to breathe, let sorrow filter from her spirit like toxins from the body, the weight not dissipating but perhaps lessening or she gaining the strength to bear it. A burden made easier by not bearing it quite so alone.
“Thank you,” Cheerilee murmured when their union came to a close. “And… sorry.”
“No need to be,” Redheart said, gracious in word and smile. “It’s been tough.”
“One of the toughest,” Cheerilee agreed. “Maybe the break will soften them up a bit.”
“Cheerille? It’s OK to sometimes just say the kids suck.” Kindness was met by bluntness and the two women shared a much-needed laugh together, laughing far longer and far harder than the joke truly deserved. But still they laughed on, tension and grief lessening and instead granting more power to their mirth for a few needed moments.
“That’s mean. Come on, Red,” Cheerilee said, “they’re just kids, they have struggles to deal with just like we do. It’s hard for them.”
“I believe you, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be turds,” Redheart said. “Now, what I think-” she paused. “Did you call me Red?”
It hadn’t even been at all intentional, a mere slip of the tongue in the midst of her haste to spit words out. “I… I guess I did,” Cheerilee said meekly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-”
“No. No, I like it! I haven’t been called that since I was with my friends in college, truth be told,” Redheart said gaily, a lightness to her tired features that seemed to smooth away the dark circles about her eyes. “So what I was going to say was that- here. So I help volunteer at a soup kitchen on weekends, a place called ‘Good Samaritan’ on South Street. They’re open every day, so why don’t we go down there this evening and help for a bit? It’ll make you feel a little better, I bet.”
Cheerilee nodded slowly. “Mmm… sure. Yeah, that sounds fun,” she said.
“Great! Let’s see… how about we meet there about five? We’ll help serve for a little while, and then we can head over to Berkeley’s for dinner after. Make it a girl’s night out.”
“It’s a plan,” Cheerilee agreed, and she slowly rose to her feet so as to leave. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
Redheart only smiled and gave a shrug. “I’m happy to.”
Cheerilee’s world passed by her quickly as she departed from the school, the whirlwind of the day fresh in her mind and still fully potent. She could be sorrowful again if she wished, but the bright hope of the evening had kindled a flame in her heart. The skies above her head were grey and the air she breathed bitterly cold, but she found herself able to withstand them for just long enough to reach her car and drive away.
The back of her head still hurt, but the warmth of Redheart’s hug hadn’t quite left just yet. Nothing about the world’s woe and pain had abated, yet there was something good to be found in the midst of it if she looked hard enough. “But what to do with it all,” she wondered quietly to herself.
The light ahead of her turned red, the stream of cars just before her putting on their brakes and seeing the lane come to a halt. As she brought her old sedan to stillness, out of the corner of her eye Cheerilee caught the sight of movement and turned to look: a bedraggled, tired man perhaps a little older than she dressed in a dirty overcoat, pushing a shopping cart filled with bags containing who knew what. Just another homeless man.
Just another. Said so casually that she somehow managed to gall herself. Dismissing him so quickly. He was a person, too, wasn’t he? Cleanliness and nice clothes didn’t change the status of that. She felt the sting of reprimand for a moment- but then came an allure. She wanted to do something nice for this man. Wasn’t there a fast food place just down the street? Maybe she should pay it a visit.
She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Who knew how this guy was actually going to react? And especially not being at full strength, Cheerilee worried what might happen if things went wrong. How would she protect herself? It was a fair thing to be concerned with. But maybe that’s not what I should be thinking right now.
She heard the squeaky shopping cart coming towards her and settled her eyes on the man who pushed it along. He seemed tired, a melancholy spirit with lines from both time and sorrow upon his brow. Hair in need of trim and combing, a shirt a size too large, and shoes that clearly were being pushed beyond their lifespan. What he wore seemed to not best suit the current cold.
Her heart did not quite hurt as she might have wished, but it did reach out just a little.
“Hello!” She said, and to make sure she was not mistaken for any other intent, she gave the man a wave.
The man looked up from his things and realized that he was not alone on the sidewalk any longer. “Hello… me?” He said in a scratchy voice.
“Hello, you!” Cheerilee assured him, and she felt her smile grow. He seemed rather timid, if not fearful of her. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but can I know your name?”
“Oh! It’s… it’s Dutch,” he said. He eyed her with worry, unsure of her intent. “Ma’am.”
“Well, Dutch, it’s a bit cold out here today, so I thought you might want something to help warm you up for a little while.” In her hands she held a bag of chicken sandwiches and a hot chocolate, steam still spewing forth from within. “Feel like something you’d like?”
Dutch looked at her with wide, bloodshot eyes, hands trembling as Cheerilee stretched out and gave to him the meal. He stared at the bag for a while, then at the drink that now warmed his hand, eyes still just as wide as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Are- are you sure?” He asked.
Cheerilee nodded. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else. Do you have a blanket or anything for tonight?”
“You really want to give this to me?” His red eyes seemed to shimmer as he looked at her, glistening with a tinge of wetness.
“I really do,” Cheerilee insisted, feeling her heart soften with each passing moment. Shame at the thought of fearing him, at looking at him like some distant ‘other’ so much different than herself was rendered unnecessary. “Do you have something to keep you warm tonight, Mr. Dutch? It’s supposed to get pretty cold…”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, I’ve got a tent at the overpass near Main Street,” he said, pointing beyond them as though it was in sight. “I’ve got a nice woobie somebody gave me, it’s real nice. You oughta get one for yourself just in case.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” Cheerilee said. “I’ve got to go, need to get ready to meet a friend soon. But you have a good day, OK, Mr. Dutch?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will,” Dutch said, and there was such a brightness in his voice that there couldn’t be any doubt to his truthfulness. “What’s your name?”
“Cheerilee,” she answered.
“Well you have a good day, Miss Cheerilee, and Merry Christmas to you.”
“And Merry Christmas to you!” Cheerilee said, giving the man one last wave before turning back to where her car awaited her.
The grief of the day had not faded away, its fiery wound still there in her mind. But there was a salve being applied, her spirit being given the opportunity to heal. It was not quite enough just yet, but she had plenty of time to let something good chase the gloom away. Christmas had only just begun.
Author's Note
Meant to post this yesterday, but life has been nightmarish here lately. A lot of pain and hurt.
Still looking myself, truth be told.
Enjoy, I guess.
