“Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents on the tree, ” the radio sang to me as I mopped up a dried coffee stain. I sighed. Our Christmas wouldn’t have mistletoe, and our tree was so small it would tip over if we put presents on it. If we had presents. Madeline would figure something out for me, she always did. Even if it was just a box of my favorite peppermint candy, or one tube of paint, I could always count on something under the tree with my name on it. But I never knew what to give her. My meager budget of one dollar didn’t allow for a lot of creativity. I would probably settle for a paper back novel from the second hand bookstore, or something just as sad. Fancy giving the love of your life a used book for Christmas. I frowned, then shook it off. Thinking about it was painful, so I avoided it. Instead, I started whistling along with the radio and continued mopping the long hallway. I told myself that I really didn’t have it so bad, I could paint all day, mop all night, and we’d hadn't gone hungry yet. You’re a janitor, Mason, what kind of a job is that? You barely make a hundred dollars a week. You have to try to sell paintings just to pay the bills, said the annoying voice in my head. You’re wrong, I told myself back, what about all the change I find on the floor? I make way more than a hundred dollars! I laughed at that and felt better.
It was late when I finished cleaning and locked up. I pulled on my coat, hat and gloves and made a last check to make sure everything was locked before I went home. As I stepped onto the street, a cold breeze snuck up my sleeve and I shivered. I turned up the collar on my coat and shoved my hands in my pockets to try to keep myself from freezing on the long walk home.
I had just turned onto my street when I saw him. A tattered cardboard sign sat on the sidewalk in front of him. He was wearing a faded green sweater, dirty blue jeans, and tennis shoes that used to be white. I crossed the street and looked at the sidewalk while $1.17 in change jingled loudly in my pocket. I knew the nice thing to do would be to hand the guy the change and tell him to buy himself a burger. But $1.17 was that much more for Madeline’s Christmas. I didn’t look up, but I could feel him watching me. I sighed in relief when I was safely inside my apartment building and couldn’t feel his eyes on the back of my head anymore. Mason Farley, that was the most selfish thing you ever did, whispered the voice in the back of my mind.
4 comments:
Don't you just hate that feeling where you know you should have given the money but now it's too late? But did you know this lady taught us that a janitor is a hot job on the job list! I think it was made up.
You are such a talented writer! I'm anxious to hear more!
When can we read chapter 2? This is great!
I'll take a nice helping of Part 2 please.
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