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| The Gift |
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| Written by Craig W. Steele | ||||||
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The announcer’s voice blared from the television. “And this afternoon, another fire strikes Erie’s eastside, this time in a low-income housing project. Arson is suspected. Police have already arrested a suspect, a 16-year-old boy whose name...” Bob Wright pushed the mute button on the remote and with his free hand swept a lock of blond hair back into place. “Not again! You can’t watch the news anymore without hearing about at least one fire. I get tired of hearing about ‘another fire in Erie.’ That’s not news — who cares?” “Bob!” his wife, Ann, scolded. Her blue eyes sparked as she glared at her husband sitting at the opposite end of the couch. She inclined her head toward their children, Blair (age eight) and Rose (age four), who were listening intently to their dad now that the television was silent. “And anyway, you should care. Someone could have been hurt or killed in the fire. Now, unmute it, please!” “Okay, fine,” said Bob, his own eyes like two icy sapphires. “Ten families have been made homeless by the blaze,” the announcer continued. “Those who lived closest to where the fire originated lost everything in the inferno. Our own Teresa Terry reported from the scene earlier today.” Immediately, the head of the on-scene reporter, a woman with too many too-white teeth and streaky blond-over-black hair replaced that of the announcer’s. “Hello, Teresa Terry here reporting for Channel 55 On-the-Scene News. I’m at the site where, just a few hours ago, fire devastated an apartment block in the Holiday Hills Housing Project on East Twenty-second Street in Erie. Ten families are homeless tonight and several have lost everything, like the Marco family here.” The camera panned from the reporter to a wretched looking foursome — father, mother, brother and sister — waiting nearby for their spot in the spotlight. “This is Sonny Marco,” continued Terry, “his wife Amy, their eight-year-old son Billy, and four-year-old daughter, Gloria.” “Hey, Mom, those kids are our ages,” said Blair excitedly. “Quiet, Blair.” Amy Marco appeared to be in shock. She just stood and stared, slack-jawed, at some distant object, her gaze unfocussed and uncomprehending. The tiny girl, Gloria, clutched tightly at a charred rag doll, as well as her mother’s hand. Gloria’s cornflower-blue eyes, peeking out from under stringy blond bangs, were wide and teary from fear and confusion. The boy stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. The reporter shoved her microphone into Sonny Marco’s face. “Mr. Marco, how does it feel to have lost everything in the world in just a few short minutes?” The camera now zoomed in on Sonny Marco’s thin, angular face with its stubble of beard and sunken blue eyes. In response to the reporter’s insensitive question, his anguished expression quickly hardened into one of outraged anger. “We ain’t lost everything,” he said. “We’re all alive and okay.” “Right, but you’ve lost all your possessions, as well as your home. How does that make you feel?” “Makes me feel blessed by the Lord to still be alive,” Marco repeated stubbornly. “We never did have all that much to lose, anyway.” The reporter gave up. “Okay, thank you Mr. Marco. I’m Teresa Terry for Channel 55 On-the-Scene News. Back to you, Steve.” The announcer’s head reappeared on the television screen. “For those wishing to help the victims of this latest fire,” he said, “the Salvation Army has established a relief fund. You may donate money by....” “Harumph, not likely,” mumbled Bob Wright. “Food, clothing and personal care items should be dropped off at your nearest Salvation Army location. Indicate that your donation is for the Holiday Hills Victims Fund. The Salvation Army has also prepared a list of specific clothing needs and sizes to better assist the victims. We’ll run it now, but this list will also be printed in tomorrow’s editions of all Erie newspapers.” Ann Wright studied the on-screen list intently, shushing her husband with a hand when he tried to speak. “Look Bob, that little boy and girl who were the same ages as our kids, that must be their clothes sizes there, the same sizes that Blair and Rose wear.” “Ann, you’re not thinking of letting yourself get suckered into donating, are you?” “Yes, I am,” she replied, turning to glare at Bob. “This is a great opportunity to teach Blair and Rose to help others less fortunate than themselves.” “Oh, Ann, for goodness sake! There are agencies, like, like the Salvation Army there, to help people like...that.” “Bob, we’re blessed with so much and those people have nothing. How could you not want to help the children, at least? That could be Blair and Rose someday. You don’t know what the future holds.” Ann turned toward her children, carbon copies of their parents, who were sitting on the love seat together. Their innocent blue eyes stared back at her. “We’re going to share with them, and that’s that!” And it was. # The next morning, Ann brought two large cardboard boxes up from the basement. She placed them on the family room floor. “Come on, kids, let’s sort out some things for the Marco’s before you two get engrossed in your Saturday morning cartoons.” “This is for Gloria’s family?” asked Rose. “Yes, Rosy, for Gloria and her family. We’ll fill one box with food and the other with clothes and stuff, maybe even a few old toys that you two don’t play with anymore.” “Where’s Daddy,” asked Rose. “Isn’t he going to help, too?” “I’m right here, Rosy,” said her father, entering the family room with a pair of worn blue jeans and the newspaper. “Here.” He tossed the jeans to Ann. “I’ve donated.” Ann unfolded the jeans and held them up. They were faded and worn looking; one knee threatened to give way any time. “Well, that should make you feel all warm and human,” said Ann. Bob grimaced at her and then sat down in his favorite recliner to read his paper. “Okay kids, help Mama fill the food box first, this one here.” Ann pointed to the box nearest her. Although Ann and Blair did most of the work, little Rose helped as much as she could. Slowly the food box filled with canned goods (“Could we give them all the peas and lima beans, Mom?” asked Blair), pasta, cereals and other nonperishable foods. At last it was as full as possible. “All right, great work you two. Now then, let's start with this other box. We'll get some soap, toothpaste and other good stuff like that.” Into the other box went several bars of soap, two disposable razors, some old washcloths and hand towels, a few other miscellaneous toiletries, and finally Bob’s old jeans. “Okay, guys,” said Ann, “I’ll go sort through your closets and drawers and pull out some of your older clothes that you don’t wear much anymore and put them in the box. If you see anything that you really want to keep, tell Mama. Oh, and I bet that woman could use my old jean jacket. The cuffs are all frayed, but it can get chilly at night even this early in the fall and she can’t be too choosy right now.” She turned to her son. “Blair, see if you can find a few toys that you don’t care that much about to give to that other boy.” “His name is Billy, Mama,” said Rose. “Oh, well, good memory, Rosy. Okay, Blair, see if you can find a few old toys for Billy.” “Yes, Mama,” said Blair, hurrying off. Ann bent down to cuddle her daughter. “And, Rosy, when Mama gets done with the clothes, I’ll help you find something for the little girl.” “Gloria, Mama.” “Right, Gloria.” Blair and Ann both returned quickly. Blair put the toys he had chosen into the box, while Ann dumped in two armloads of kids’ clothes and her jacket. “Okay, Rosy, let’s see what toys we can find for you to give to Gloria.” “It’s okay, Mama, I already know what I’m giving her.” Rose, too, had been busy while Ann and Blair were gone. “You do?” asked Bob, lowering his paper. “What is it, Rosy?” Rose said nothing. She walked slowly toward the second box, her Pat-the-Bunny clutched tightly in both small hands. Pat had been a Christmas present last year, and had been her favorite “lovie” since then. Rose stopped by the box and held the bunny to her lips, giving it a loud kiss. “Bye, bye, Big Pat. I love you. I'll miss you very much,” she said, laying her gift carefully in the box. “Oh, Rosy,” said Ann, “you don’t have to give away Big Pat, honey.” “Good grief, no, sweetie,” said Bob. “Why, he’s practically brand new, and you love him so much. You can’t give Big Pat away, dear.” Rose wiped away a few tears and sniffed. She then looked solemnly from her mother to her father. “Big Pat is my best friend and I’ll miss him so much, especially at night-night,” she said, eyes leaking tears onto her cheeks. “But Gloria’s dolly was all burned. I saw it on TV. She needs a new best friend so she won’t be scared at night-night.” The silence lasted for so long that Rose started to get scared. “Mama, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing, Rosy, nothing,” Ann reassured her, speaking softly. “And to think I thought I had something to teach you, little girl.” Blair bolted from the room. When he returned, he was carrying his prized Buzz Lightyear action figure. He hesitated by the box, hugging Buzz tightly to his chest. When he finally placed the toy into the box, he looked at Rose and smiled. Ann was next. She removed the frayed jean jacket from the clothing box. She too left hurriedly. She returned with her favorite winter coat, dark blue with imitation rabbit’s fur lining the pockets. “This coat will be much warmer this winter than that silly old jean jacket,” Ann said, placing the coat into the box. “Looks like it’s my turn,” said Bob. He smiled at Ann on his way to their bedroom. “That’s right, I’m donating, and with a smile. I’ll leave the old jeans in there, too. He’ll probably need them for work jeans.” When he rejoined his family, Bob was carrying his new pair of black jeans and a polo-style shirt to go with it. “I’ll cut the tags off the jeans later,” he said, putting the clothes into the box with Ann’s coat. “Right now, I want to talk to this little girl.” Bob walked over to where Rose was standing. He bent down and pulled her into his arms, hugging her fiercely. “Thank you, Rosy.” “For what, Daddy?” “For giving all of us ‘The Gift’.” “What gift, Daddy?” “The true meaning of love, honey.” Bob Wright looked around at his family. “Now then, what do you say we check the paper and then go shopping? Let's see how many of those special needs we can fill for Gloria and her family, and as many others as we can help.”
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