Temporary Christmas

THE HOLIDAY SEASON HAS ALWAYS BEEN A BITTERSWEET TIME of the year. Sure, the festive lights made the city shine up both figuratively and literally. And yes, in theory, I liked being bundled up on a frosty night. But what I didn’t get was why we suddenly had to pretend to be joyful and jolly. Ho, ho, hold on. There was absolutely nothing magical about the season, and the only thing that flew around at night was the seasonal cold. I know this sounds rather pessimistic, but it’s literally all I could think about as I glared up at the popcorn ceiling that speckled my bedroom.

This year, the end of November meant not only that the holiday season was approaching, but it also meant college deadlines were coming up. And everyone and their mother could not hold back how excited they were for me and how I would achieve big things. It was all too much. Which essentially conjured up all of my existential dread about the future.

The dimly lit Manhattan apartment was buzzing with a bit too much life for my liking as I pulled dainty airplane headphones off my dresser and over my ears. I lay there, on my bed, hoping to drown out the holiday hysteria with the rhythmic beats of Lauryn Hill. My lion's man of a fro framed my face. It was my hiding place, the blanket of my hair providing much-needed comfort along with the lyrics of the queen herself that spoke life into my soul.

The echoes of screaming children from the living room painted a chaotic backdrop to the serene bedroom environment that I attempted to create. I saw Miss Cassidy, who owned the foster home enter through my cracked bedroom door. She had grocery bags in hand and seemed unfazed by the pandemonium. She went on, business as usual, adjusting her large framed glasses every so often. My eyes lingered on her as she hung her peacoat on a hook by the door and took a moment for herself.

In the corner of the living room sat Raj, a boy with deep-toned skin, who happened to be my longest-standing foster sibling. He sat intensely typing away on his small laptop. He was funny like that. No matter how chaotic it got here, he always had this sense of calm amidst it all. Nearby, my youngest foster brother, Seth, only eight years old, snatched a toy fire truck from Kitty, six, the youngest foster sibling in the mix. Seth darted out of the room, leaving behind a trail of frustrated cries from Kitty. I could feel my own sense of calm dissipating as their whining increased in volume.

I couldn’t help but be distracted by the commotion. The harmony of music in my headphones clashed with the dissonance in the living room. Without a moments notice, Seth barged into my room, followed closely by Kitty, her face etched with disappointment.

“Give it back!” Kitty pleaded, her tiny hands reaching out. “Go play with a doll!” Seth retorted stubbornly, holding the stolen toy tightly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the plastic edges.

“It’s MY toy!” Kitty’s voice wobbled. You could see the brimming tears in her eyes as her lips turned to a pout.

I sat up abruptly, interrupting their feud, and reached out for the toy fire truck. Without hesitation, I handed it to Kitty, who ambushed me with an expected hug.

“Thank you, Aiya!” I know that her gratitude was genuine, but my patience was running thin.

Kitty dashed out of the room, leaving behind a resentful Seth. Seth’s face quickly turned sour as he shot me a nasty glare.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled, bitterness lacing through his words. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “What’s not fair? You stealing toys?”

I reached for my headphones, ready to escape the drama once more, but Seth’s next words caught me off guard. “She has all the toys! I have two.” His voice trembled. My heart softened as I saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Why don’t you just ask for more?” I replied with a hint of disregard, but I hesitated when I saw the tears free-fall from Seth’s eyes.

“People donate them for Kitty, not me,” Seth confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “No one ever wants to give me toys.”

I placed my headphones beside me and lowered myself to sit on the floor beside Seth. It was impossible to ignore the ache in his voice, the feeling of worthlessness that hung heavily over him. I knew this feeling all too well. And a part of me knew it was time to fulfill my big sister duties.

“You know,” I began, “I’m willing to bet that Kitty would love to play with you if you just ask.” I paused, allowing the words to sink in before continuing, “I’ll let you in on a little secret I’ve learned after being here for so long.” Seth leans in, soaking up each word.

“On open days, you just have to use those big puppy dog eyes of yours.” I playfully poked Seth’s side, garnering a giggle from him. “And look at them,” I continued with a grin, “and say, I like it here, but sometimes I get sad not having any toys to play with."

Seth’s gaze met mine, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed my words. “Works like a charm every time. Okay?” I probed, my voice filled with encouragement. Seth returned my gaze with a half-smile, his tears now replaced with a newfound determination.

“Okay!” he exclaimed, the weight on his shoulders lifting.

I couldn’t help but smile at his transformation. I nudged him playfully, urging him to go back out and make amends with Kitty. With newfound confidence, he left my room, and I closed the door behind him.

Sighing contentedly, I flopped back onto my bed, once again cocooned in the music that was my refuge. I closed my eyes and let the melodies wash over me, grateful that I could help my brother, but eager to escape back into the sounds of late nineties jams.

As I lay there, the apartment’s symphony continued, each sound mixing with the lyrics and melodies from my headphones. The scent of something delicious wafted through the apartment as Miss Cassidy worked her culinary magic in the kitchen. Her hands moved swiftly as she dashed seasonings into a simmering pot, then tasted it with a wooden spoon. Meanwhile, the living room remained a whirlwind of activity, with Seth and Kitty engrossed in their world of toys.

Seth, having finally gathered the courage, timidly approached Kitty. His fingers fidgeted nervously as he spoke to her. Kitty nodded in response and handed him the toy fire truck with a smile. Seth sat across from her, and soon enough, their playful laughter filled the room as Kitty retrieved another toy car.

Miss Cassidy’s attention momentarily diverted from the stove. She glanced over at them and smiled. She then turned to Raj, who sat engrossed in his laptop.

“You need any homework help, Raj?” she inquired, her voice warm and inviting. Raj spared her a brief glance. “Nope. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Miss Cassidy persisted, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “I was a bit of a Math whizz in my day.” Raj finally looked up from his laptop, shaking his head. “I’m sure. I’m not doing math anyway; it’s AP Lit.”

With a nod, Miss Cassidy returned her focus to the cooking. She placed a lid on the pot and rummaged through the fridge for additional ingredients, her nurturing presence a soothing constant amidst the chaos.

“Aiya!” Miss Cassidy’s voice suddenly rang out, echoing through the apartment.

I jolted upright, tearing myself away from the music in my ears. Pulling off my headphones, I called back, “Yeah?”

“Did you not hear me calling you?” Miss Cassidy’s tone was tinged with annoyance. “Sorry,” I replied, feeling somewhat guilty. “I was listening to music.”

Miss Cassidy sighed, her frustration apparent. “Well, the trash still hasn’t been taken out.” I reluctantly nodded, “I’ll do it now.”

“And I thought you said you’d get the bread for dinner,” Miss Cassidy added, her list of grievances growing.

With a weary sigh, I replied, “I’ll run to the corner store.”

“Good,” Miss Cassidy said with a nod, her motherly authority prevailing. “Now, please—” Before she could finish her sentence, the living room erupted with the sounds of Seth and Kitty’s playful bickering.

“Ow!” Seth yelps! “Sorry!” says Kitty. Miss Cassidy hurriedly intervened, her voice rising in concern, “Seth, put that down!”

“You did that on purpose!” Kitty screeched. “No, I didn’t!” Seth retorted.

I sighed, somewhat relieved by my escape to run errands. I threw on a coat from my closet, sliding my MP3 player into the pocket. My headphones found their place over my ears once more as I prepared to take out the trash.

In the kitchen, I grabbed the garbage bag and headed for the door. Just as I exited the apartment, I heard a noise behind me. I lowered my headphones and turned around, my curiosity piqued.

There, in the dimly lit trash alley, a tiny cat was gnawing at an envelope. I bent down and picked up the envelope, opening it to find a ‘Happy Holidays’ card inside. I couldn’t help but let out a sardonic chuckle before tossing it aside. Even in this bustling city, there were moments of unexpected serenity, like this curious feline.

My footsteps carried me down the Manhattan streets, adorned with Christmas decorations that cast a warm, inviting glow. The music in my headphones remained my faithful companion as I softly sang along to the tunes that strummed their way into my head.

Inside the corner store, I browsed the shelves, the stench of the city streets wafting through the air. I reached for the cheapest white bread I could find, the familiarity of it bringing a sense of comfort. As I approached the counter, I plucked four mini 25-cent Godiva chocolates from a nearby box and placed them in front of the cashier.

“Just this,” I said, swinging the bread onto the counter and lowering my headphones.

The cashier, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, rang up the items and complimented me unexpectedly. “You know, you’ve got a pretty good voice, kid.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Oh, okay.”

“Bag or no bag?” the cashier asked as she tallied up the cost. “No bag is fine,” I replied, eager to get back to my music. “Two fifty-five,” she informed me.

I rummaged through my pockets, retrieving two crumpled dollar bills and some loose change. I placed the money on the counter, and the cashier pushed the bread toward me.

“Have a good night. Stay safe, kid,” she said kindly as I turned to leave. “Thank you!” I called out with a smile before the door swung shut behind me, leaving the cozy corner store behind.

As I walked back to the apartment, the sounds of the city surrounded me once more. The melodies in my headphones continued to serenade me, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging amidst the chaos of this vibrant, bustling city.

The cozy dining room of our Manhattan apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of lasagna soup as we all gathered around the table. Miss Cassidy sat at the head of the table, with Seth, Kitty, Raj, and a new addition, Joey, joining in the evening meal.

Joey, her golden-toned skin glowing in the warm light, excitedly recounted her first day at ballet class. She spoke with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as she shared her experiences with the group.

“The girls there were all super cool,” Joey began, her voice brimming with excitement. “They let me borrow some of their old ballet gear because their school provides most of it for them.”

As she spoke, I entered the apartment, shedding my winter layers and hanging my coat on the rack. Miss Cassidy immediately called me to join them for dinner.

“Come eat, Aiya,” she urged, her voice warm but firm.

I hesitated for a moment, then acquiesced, taking a seat at the table. Joey’s tale about her new ballet friends had captured everyone’s attention. But I wasn’t nearly as convinced that some snobby private school girls would be all that great.

“Wait a second!” I exclaimed suddenly, jumping up from my chair. I rushed to my coat, fished out the chocolates I had bought, and returned to the table.

“Catch,” I said, tossing a chocolate to Raj. “Thanks,” he replied, catching it with a grateful smile.

I then tossed chocolates to Seth and Kitty, who both cheered in delight. Joey, however, looked at me with an expectant expression. “You didn’t get me one,” she remarked, her tone slightly reproachful.

I shrugged, a mischievous glint in my eye. “You weren’t here.”

Joey started to express her displeasure, “You don’t also have to be so…” I groaned and interrupted her sentence as I tossed the last piece of chocolate to her, adding, “Fine! Have mine... God.”

Joey accepted the treat with a satisfied nod and started to unwrap the chocolate, but Miss Cassidy interjected, “After dinner, Joey.”

Kitty, clearly enjoying her soup, chimed in with enthusiasm. “I wanna hear more about ballet!” Raj, on the other hand, raised his hand. “If we’re voting, I would not like to hear about ballet.”

I couldn’t resist teasing my foster sister. “I have to agree with Raj here.”

Joey, however, was not one to be silenced. “And I wouldn’t love to hear your insufferable voice every day, yet here we are.” Miss Cassidy intervened before our banter could escalate further. “Guys! Stop it. Joey, continue.”

With a smug look, I turned my attention to Joey, who glared back at me. I took the opportunity to dig into my soup, enjoying the delicious warmth that filled my senses.

“As I was saying,” Joey continued, her composure regained, “the girls gave me a whole bunch of their old ballet gear.” A hedonistic chuckle escaped my mouth. “So, you got hand-me-downs.”

Joey defended her newfound wardrobe. “Most of the stuff was actually still in pretty good condition. They just got newer gear from their school.”

“Ahhh, private school kids,” I remarked, my tone tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

Miss Cassidy, always the peacemaker, chimed in. “I don’t get why you’re so against the idea of kids attending private school. All it means is that their parents have the means for a better education. I’m sure if you had kids, you’d do the same.”

I couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. “Oh no, I would not. It isn’t a better education; it’s just a privileged one. And those kids just go on to pity and look down on other kids.” I gestured toward Joey, a living example of my point. Joey, however, wasn’t about to let my comment slide.

“Is it so hard for you to believe that people are just nice because they like me?!” she retorted, her frustration evident. “Maybe if you tried to be more open to people, you’d understand.”

With that, Joey abruptly left the table, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Miss Cassidy, who had been watching our exchange, gave me a knowing look.

“I know. I know,” I mumbled, my appetite suddenly lost.

Raj chimed in, attempting to defuse the tension. “She’s right, you know. You can be... cynical at times.” Seth nodded in agreement, taking large spoonfuls of his soup. Kitty, always the honest one, added, “Sometimes you’re kinda mean.”

I looked around the table, taking in the disapproving faces of my makeshift family. I sighed, realizing that perhaps it was time to reevaluate my words and how they affect the people around me. As I stared down into my half-eaten bowl of soup, my stomach flipped in knots with the guilt of hurting my sister. But I knew I had to put on my big girl pants and bury my pride for the sake of being a good person.

With a deep sigh, I pushed myself up and made an early departure from the dining table. I walked to our dimly lit bedroom and peered in to see Joey nestled in her bed, engrossed in a book illuminated by the soft glow of a reading light. I tiptoed to the bathroom to stall before facing her.

After slugging my way through my night routine, I slip back into the bedroom. I stood at the doorway, clad in fuzzy socks, shorts, and an oversized t-shirt, the silent tension getting the better of me.

“What are you reading?” I inquired, my voice hushed as I peered over at Joey.

Joey didn’t look up from her book as she curtly replied, “A Christmas Carol.”

I quietly moved to my own bed, the springs squeaking softly under my weight as I settled in. I shifted to face Joey, a hopeful smile tugging at my lips.

“Is it any good?” I asked, genuinely interested in her opinion.

Joey’s gaze remained fixed on the pages before her as she answered, “I’m only a few pages in.”

I waited for her to elaborate, eager to hear more about the story, but my persistence was met with annoyance.

“Can you stop talking? I’m trying to read,” Joey snapped, her irritation evident.

I bit my lip, realizing that there may not be hope to reconcile with Joey tonight. For a few moments, I remained silent, allowing her to immerse herself in her book. Then, unable to contain my thoughts any longer, I apologized, my voice contrite. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I think I was projecting a bit.”

I hesitated before revealing more of my inner turmoil, but the words spilled out of me. “I get especially pessimistic around this time of year because... it doesn’t matter. But, I am sorry.”

Joey huffed in response, her irritation palpable. She set her book on the nightstand and switched off her reading light, turning away from me.

The room fell into silence once more, the weight of my words lingering in the air. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of vulnerability. As I lay in the quiet darkness, I reflected on the words exchanged across the dining table, the rift I had inadvertently created.

I knew that change wouldn’t come overnight, and I still had much to learn about opening up to my foster family. But as I closed my eyes and drifted into sleep, I hoped that this small, heartfelt apology was a step in the right direction.