Danny Furlough's First Christmas

Danny Furlough wandered around the courtyard of the outlet mall, watching shoppers come and go, arms laden with presents. Hundreds of people, nearly everyone smiling and laughing, chatting with friends and family. Danny loved the holidays, loved seeing the upbeat mood of the people, the bright lights, the decorations. 

He loved seeing the easy marks, fat wallets and purses, unattended packages and bags. Just waiting for him. An easy score. 

Danny Furlough was thief in general, a pickpocket by trade. He was a chameleon with unremarkable features and plain faced. One could chat with him while waiting in a checkout line but not recognize him ten minutes later. As far as being a thief, Furlough had it pretty good. He lived a comfortable life because he was always cautious of being showy. 

He never, ever got caught. Merry Christmas Danny Furlough, from your pal, Danny Furlough.

Danny meandered, looking for his next dupe. One more decent score and he would call it day. It was only the 14th, Christmas still eleven days away, but he had already hit his numbers for the month. Time for a little gravy. Don’t want to get greedy. Just find a soft mark and then be done. There was a cold beer with his name on it at home. He planned to have pizza delivered. It just doesn’t get much better. 

At the moment he was hanging out by a jewelry store. It wasn’t foolproof, but men who shopped frequently carried tidy sums of cash. They were generally distracted, practically handing their wallets to him. A little patience would likely be rewarded.

Will Everton wasn’t shopping for jewelry. His wife had been gone for several years. Their life together had produced three children and one of his joys was finding their perfect Christmas gifts. He loved, loved, loved shopping for them. He paid cash for everything, just as Furlough hoped. It was a perfect storm, slowly stirring. Danny saw it, Everton didn’t. 

The two “bumped” into each other right in front of the Zales store, sparkly diamonds shouting “30% off! Come buy me!” Perhaps the lure was calling so loudly that Will Everton was oblivious. He didn’t notice a thing when his wallet went missing, instead smiling and apologizing at the plain looking man with whom he’d brushed shoulders.

“Excuse me!” said the average looking guy. “Sorry!”

“No, on me!” replied Everton. “Sorry. Merry Christmas.” The two men parted ways. Within just moments, Everton would be unable to recall much of anything about the chance encounter. Furlough smiled as they separated, the Christmas bustle filling the space between them.

Danny stopped behind a brilliantly lit Scotch pine and tracked the older man as he melted into the crowd. He opened the wallet and an even bigger smile flashed across his face-$240 in cash and two credit cards! Gravy always tasted so good! 

He dug the cash out of the billfold and pocketed it, along with the plastic. He headed for a trash can to dispose of the evidence. He thumbed through the wallet one more time. Then stopped. Before he could toss it away, something fell out. He caught it as it fluttered, snagging it before it hit the ground. 

He turned it over and realized it was newspaper clipping. He opened it, something he had never done before when rifling through a score. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw what he had – an obituary. He started to toss it and stopped again, reading.

Margie Everton. He knew that name. He knew it quite well. She taught Junior High history, his favorite class as a kid. His favorite teacher. 

Margie Everton was dead. He had never heard, didn’t know. He glanced up and tracked the crowd, no one paying him any heed. Faceless, invisible in the middle of the shopping whirlwind. Just like he’d been nearly all his life. 

Except when he took Mrs. Everton’s class. 

Margie Everton liked Danny Furlough. She saw him as a bright, funny and easy going young man. She saw how hard he worked to not work hard in school. She saw his lousy home situation. Every year she had a Danny Everton. Every year she reached out to the Danny Evertons. No two kids were ever quite the same, but they were never really very different. A kid, boy or girl, who simply needed someone to tell them “I care.” 

Margie cared and told the kids. She always meant it when she said it. The kids could feel it. Danny Furlough felt it, all those years ago. He felt it now, as he recalled Mrs. Everton.

It was so long ago…A pretty blonde women with a thousand watt smile, Margie Everton was a person everyone intuitively liked. When she took roll call at the start of the class, it was always “Good morning Mr. Combs. Hello Ms. Simmons. Welcome Mr. Furlough.” And it was genuine. The kids thought it was corny, but they loved it. They loved her. She loved them back. 

“Class dismissed” she called at 9:50 one morning. “Danny, would you come see me before leaving?”

Furlough’s heart sank. He was enjoying the class, actually reading the textbook and getting a C+, his best grade this year. Hell, his best grade in several years. 

He stood in front of her desk, his eyes cast down, embarrassed to be singled out. What had he done? No clue.

“Sit down Danny. Let’s chat for a minute. Okay?” He nodded and sat.

“Danny, I can tell you like this class. You’re quite knowledgeable. It seems to come easy for you and that’s okay. So tell me – can you do better? I think you should be getting an A in here, not this C+ you’ve latched onto.” 

Danny look at her. She was smiling, when he expected a frown. 

“Yes’m Mrs. Everton. I think I could get a better grade.” The words shocked him, coming from his own mouth. “I could do better." Wow! Were these words actually his?

“Give me your best effort Danny. Always. And I’ll help you however you’d like. I have high hopes for you.”

She smiled again and Danny knew she was telling him the truth and nothing more. He was amazed and a little overwhelmed. No one, not even his folks had ever talked to him like this before. He felt a warmth in his belly. He walked out of class, feet never touching the floor. 

True to his word, Danny worked hard at his studies the rest of the semester, raising his grade to a B+ as the final approached. His overall interest in school went up and, if he did well with his last round of tests, making the Honor Roll was firmly within reach. He didn’t know this, no one seemed to be aware of it. Except Mrs. Everton.

“Danny Furlough, please see me after class,” she intoned on a Friday afternoon. Christmas was just days away, so she had one last chance to push her emerging star.

Danny came to her desk as the other kids melted into the throng rushing through the hallways. He tried to contain a smile, but it managed to fill his face in the small spaces that gave him away. Mrs. Everton saw all of this, saw him trying to be stoic. 

“Danny, I just want to say congratulations. No matter how your test comes out next week, I’m proud of you. Your grades are the best you’ve ever made. I checked them, I know.”

“Thanks Mrs. Everton. You’ve helped a lot.”

“No Danny. Not really. I’ve helped a little. You. You’ve done the work. I’m very proud of you. You should be proud too.”

Furlough flushed at this, amazed again to hear words from this woman that he’d never heard from anyone else. Did people really exist who treated each other like this? It seemed so. But he was overwhelmed to learn this at the age of thirteen.

It was a lesson he remembered for a long time. But eventually it faded away. His folks never commented on his grades. His effort began to falter midway through the next semester. He retreated to his life B.E. Before Everton. 

By the time he graduated (by the skin on his teeth), he was a small time thug. Not mean and violent. Mostly a petty pickpocket. This one skill he honed and molded. He became a great pickpocket. 

He scanned through the tattered newspaper clipping again, tears welling briefly in his hazel eyes. He glanced in the wallet and saw Will Everton staring blankly from his driver’s license photo. How blessed was this man, to have been married to Margie Everton? She was an amazing teacher. The one person whom he admired in this gray and dingy world where he stole from unsuspecting souls and took things that weren’t his. He felt ashamed. Maybe for the first time ever. 

Snow began drifting and Danny squinted up at the sky. The wind freshened and caused his eyes to water, making him blink rapidly. He felt guilt, felt unclean and didn’t like it. He glanced at the wallet again, studying the face of Will Everton. He put the cash and cards back in the wallet and shoved it into a coat pocket. He kept the obit out, looking at it once more, confirming the name of Margie Everton. He headed up the sidewalk, one of a million shoppers out buying presents and celebrating the season. 

Something had shifted in him. He wasn’t looking for his next victim. Thoughts of Casey’s pizza and beer dissipated. He walked slowly, steps measured, plodding through the night air. The snow and cold bothered him, the first time he’d noticed either today. Actually, the first time he’d noticed in a while. 

He looked in each store window he passed, filled with bright lights and empty boxes, wrapped like presents. His gaze was blank, he saw nothing. Finally he looked into Rocky Mountain Candy. One of his favorites, he loved the sea salt caramels, bought them in large amounts and froze some for later. They were a treat anytime he had them. 

Inside at the counter, he saw Will Everton. A small white paper sack sat on the counter. Everton was patting his pockets, realizing something was wrong. Learning his wallet was gone. He turned away from the counter, shaking his head, sadness on his face, in his eyes. He headed for the door.

Furlough watched all of this and approached the older man as he exited the candy shop. He bumped into Everton again, stopping.

“Excuse me. Oh hey! I was looking for you.” He reached into his pocket and brought out the wallet. “I found this a few doors down. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but I did open it to see who had lost it.” He pressed the billfold into Will’s hands.

“Oh. Goodness! Bless you young man! I was getting a little panicky, thinking my wallet was gone forever.”

Danny looked at him, a soft smile on his face. “I saw this in your wallet. Mrs. Everton’s obituary. I had her for a class, a long time ago.”

“Yeah? What’s your name son?”

“Danny.”

“Danny? Hmm. Is your last name Furlough? She had a Danny Furlough years ago, loved that kid. She had such high hopes for him. I don’t know why I recall any of this, but I do. Like it was yesterday.”

Danny shook his head. “Sorry, must have been another Danny. But all the same, I really liked your wife,” he said pressing the clipping into the older man’s hands. “She was a special lady.”

Will Everton smiled. “Yes, that she was. It would kill me to lose this raggedy old obit.” He folded the paper and gently returned it to the wallet and fished out $50. “Here. Merry Christmas.”

Furlough took the cash, “Merry Christmas to you too.” Then he turned and headed off into the snow and crowd. Will Everton watched him for a moment, finally turning away as well. 

Ahead, a bell ringer called out “Merry Christmas.” As he passed by, Furlough looked her in the eye and smiled. “Merry Christmas!” He shoved the $50 into the bucket.