"Mom's fast asleep. I hope she doesn't wake up, or there'll be hell to pay."
Tiptoeing across the room, the boy reached his small daybed and climbed in, moving cautiously to keep the frame from groaning. The neighbors had given this little sofa to Toby five years ago when they were renovating and tossing out their old furniture. Back then, when Toby was only three, it had seemed huge. Now that he'd grown, it was cramped and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, the springs had worn down over the years and started to creak horribly.
But his mother didn't care about that. All that mattered to her was having enough money for a drink. She drank every single day, and life for poor Toby was far from easy. When she made a trip to the liquor store and got her bottle, things weren't so bad at first. She'd be cheerful and kind all day, patting his head and humming little tunes. But if she woke up in the middle of the night and found her stash was empty, you'd better watch out. She would fly into a terrifying rage. Because of that, the boy was afraid to even breathe too loudly at night, let alone make a sound.
Outside the window, the night looked like a scene from a fairy tale. Lights still twinkled in many houses, and the whole city was blanketed in fresh snow. In the distance, at the center of the town square, the multicolored lights of the great Christmas tree shimmered. After admiring the view for a moment, Toby looked back at his mother. She was sleeping peacefully. In the shadows, her worn, tired face looked younger and almost beautiful. The apartment, however, was always soul-crushing—filthy, empty, infested with roaches, and draped in tattered curtains. School was different. There, the walls were bright, the furniture was new, and the floors were scrubbed to a shine. That was why Toby loved going to class.
Yesterday, they had decorated their classroom for the holidays, cutting snowflakes out of colored paper and hanging tinsel everywhere. Tomorrow, there was going to be a big Christmas party. Last year, at the same party, Toby had seen Santa Claus with his own eyes—complete with a bushy white beard and a huge sack of treats. That was when Toby had received the first gift of his life: a box of chocolates. He ate half of them instantly and brought the rest home, but his mom wouldn't take any.
"You eat them, sweetie," she'd said. "But remember for the future—sugar rots your teeth. That's why I never buy you candy."
"Okay, Mom. I'll be careful and just have one a day."
This year, the teacher told them that Santa would be granting wishes. On Christmas Eve, you were supposed to write your deepest heart's desire on a piece of paper and tuck it under your pillow. If a child had been good all year, the wish would surely come true.
Toby had spent the last few days agonizing over what to choose. Should he ask Santa for a happy little puppy? Or should he ask the North Pole to make his mom finally stop drinking? He thought and thought, and eventually, he chose the puppy. He wanted a friend more than anything.
Christmas at home was always lonely. His mother never wanted to put up a tree. To all his pleas, she would only sigh and say, "Why waste money on that nonsense? I'd rather get you a real gift, son."
But somehow, she always forgot about the gift. Toby hoped every year, but every year ended in disappointment. Maybe she buys them and then gets drunk and loses them, the little boy once thought, and eventually, he stopped expecting anything at all.
But this year, his mother had been adamant. "That's it, you're getting a real present this time! I promise."
It was now Christmas Eve. The letter to Santa asking for a puppy had been under his pillow since morning. His mom came home late, drunk and boisterously happy. Staggering, she walked into the room, collapsed heavily onto Toby's daybed, and started belting out a Christmas carol. Then she reached out to hug him.
"Merry Christmas, honey! I didn't come home empty-handed this time. Just like I promised. I've got a surprise for you. Oh... now where did it go? Hang on, let me find it."
Toby sighed sadly. There it goes again, he thought. She lost it. But just then, a muffled whimper came from the shopping bag sitting in the hallway.
"I remember! It's in the bag! God, I'm such a drunk idiot," the woman shouted with a laugh. She stumbled over to the bag and shook out a tiny, shivering, dirty kitten onto the floor.
The frightened little creature froze and continued to meow piteously. Toby, however, jumped for joy and shouted a loud "Thank you!" It meant Santa had read his note after all. He'd made sure his mom didn't lose the gift. And the fact that it was a kitten instead of a puppy didn't matter one bit. Santa had so many letters to read on Christmas; he probably just got confused. It didn't matter! The important thing was that he finally had a little furry friend of his own.
Once Toby scooped him up, the kitten calmed down quickly, closed his tiny eyes, and began to purr loudly. Toby wanted to thank his mom again, but she had already fallen onto her own bed and was snoring loudly.
Holding the kitten tight, the boy crept into the kitchen. There was a little milk left in the fridge. Toby poured it into a saucer, crumbled in a bit of bread, and set the little guy down. The kitten lunged at the food greedily, his tiny tail twitching comically from side to side.
"Why are you twitching your tail like that? Chasing flies away? I'm gonna call you Shoo," the boy whispered affectionately, gently stroking the kitten's ears.
After the kitten finished his dinner, the boy took him back to the daybed, and soon they were both asleep. They didn't get to sleep for long, though. About an hour later, a screaming match erupted in the apartment.
"You little brat! I'll wring its neck! No cats in my house, you hear me?" his mother shrieked from the kitchen, sounding furious.
Terrified, Toby clutched the kitten to his chest and cautiously approached her. His mother was on the floor, struggling unsuccessfully to stand up.
"Mom, Mom, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Please, Mom, get up," the boy cried in despair.
Seeing the trembling kitten in her son's arms, the woman screamed in a rage.
"Did you see what this little beast did? Why didn't you clean up after it? I slipped and almost cracked my head open on the table! You'd have come in here to find your mother dead! That's it, I've had enough! Give me that damn thing!"
As soon as she managed to pull herself up, she grabbed poor Shoo and threw him right out the window. Toby stood frozen for a second, then turned to his mother and snapped.
"I hate you! You're a murderer!"
Then, without even grabbing a coat, he bolted out the door into the freezing night.
***
He found the kitten lying in the snow immediately. He knelt down and called softly, "Shoo? Shoo?" But the poor thing didn't move. Toby reached out and gently stroked his fur, and finally, the kitten gave a tiny twitch of his tail.
As she waited for the clock to strike midnight, Lydia sighed. She wasn't feeling very festive, and she hadn't even bothered to set the table. But then a thought crossed her mind: Maybe my dreams don't come true because I don't celebrate properly. What if Santa actually shows up? I won't have anything to give him. I should go out and at least get a cake and some fruit. A holiday is a holiday, after all.
Feeling the bite of the midnight frost, she picked up her pace as she turned the corner. In the courtyard of the neighboring building, she saw a child standing all alone. He was in his pajamas and a t-shirt! In this weather!
"Hey, kiddo! What are you doing? You'll catch your death! Where are your parents?" Lydia asked indignantly. She quickly pulled off her coat and wrapped it around the shivering boy.
The thin, red-haired boy started to sob and pointed toward the snow.
"Look! My mom threw him out the window. I'm scared to pick him up... I think he's dying."
"Is your apartment very high up?" she asked hopefully.
"The first floor."
"Oh, then he'll be just fine. The poor little guy is just in shock. That's why he's staying still."
The kitten seemed to understand. He looked up at the kind woman and stood up unsteadily on his paws. The boy, overjoyed, immediately scooped him up. Just then, a grimy first-floor window creaked open, and a woman with messy hair leaned out.
"Toby! What kind of stunt is this? Get inside this instant! Do you hear me?"
The boy winced and looked at Lydia. She gave him a knowing nod and spoke politely to the woman.
"Happy New Year. My name is Lydia, I live just around the block. Please, let Toby stay with me for a bit. We're going to have some tea and cake. Here's my card with my phone number. I'll walk him home myself tomorrow."
The mother thought for a moment, then tossed a winter jacket and boots out the window. "Fine," she yelled. "Better than him sitting here hungry with a drunk mother anyway."
Lydia helped the boy get dressed, and they headed to the store. She bought plenty of treats for him and didn't forget a feast for the cat, either. The night turned out to be wonderful.
Toby had been right to believe in Santa so strongly. And later, Lydia started to believe in him, too. Everything she wished for that night came true within the year. She met a wonderful man and finally found the family happiness she'd been looking for.
Amazingly, things even turned around for Toby. His mother became friends with Lydia and finally sobered up for good. As for Shoo, who grew into a big, striped cat, he lives between both houses. Truth be told, he's probably got the best deal of everyone.
0 comments