The Gift

The Gift

               Tandria Minot counted the tips from her twelve- hour waitressing Saturday shift, $10.05. If the tips got any smaller, she’d have to get out a tin cup and a begging sign and parked herself on the corner.  She smiled at the image; one must not lose hope even in the worst circumstances, smile and courtesy were the hallmarks of food service industry. Besides, begging in the street wasn’t an option. Where would she find the time? Mountain Creek restaurant was experiencing its busiest season and she hoped the joy and generosity often exhibited in the holidays would still reward her in the last hour of her shift.   So far, the restaurant was crowded and her last table of ten, gave her a five- dollar tip— fifty cents for each of them she supposed.  She shouldn’t judge, may the family have financial difficulties. Although many shopping bags they carried belied that fact.

How was she going to buy her children Christmas gifts this year, repair the roof, and pay the mortgage? Michael had his six-year-old heart set on a train set and twelve-year old Sarah wanted an easy-bake oven with the necessary accessories She heard them whispering wishes to her mother. Coming up with the gift ideas and getting on her hands on those gifts was another thing entirely. Money was still required currency for purchasing gifts, and Tandria had a measly $12.05 of the $89.99 needed.

           She had been given a lot of crazy tips in the last month, pennies, notes, poetry, marriage proposals. Tips wrapped in dollar bills which said, “Why don’t get a better job? Since you like taking orders so much, how about servicing me in the bedroom and, “if you hate standing on your feet, how about servicing me on your knees.”  This year, she had hoped for money, not advice or job offers. She was the sole breadwinner. Her husband rested in Islington Cemetery, killed by a drunk driver.

            Tandria picked up the bag with the leftover chocolate cake, six slices of pizza for dinner and headed home. She donned her red sweater; the temperature tends to drop in the evenings. Her mother was watching the kids and she had been on her feet from 6:00 a.m. She needed a hot bath and time to soak her feet. Her shift starts at noon Sunday, so that gives her some time with the kids.

Outside, the wind whipped her skirt around her legs and she struggled to hold the bag and keep her underwear from exposing. She walked briskly it was after seven and the breeze had picked up. On each side of the road, fall announced its arrival showing off its colors of copper, rust, oranges, pale yellows, and reddish orange leaves creating a mosaic carpet on green lawns. She heard footsteps behind her and walked faster. Don’t be silly, she told herself. It’s only the wind calling to the night.  Her overactive imagination seemed to hear the wind whispered and hyphenated her name, Tan-dr-ia. She began to jog. The steps quickened too.  The wind seemed to stutter now: T-tan-ta.an dr-dri-a.

“Stop, please stop, I can’t run any further.” A male voice called after her.

           Tandria stopped.

A pale man with a rake-like body closed the gap between them. She remembered him from earlier that day. He didn’t leave a tip.  Oh God don’t let this be something weird.

“Why are you following me?” Tandria asked.

“I forget to give you a tip.” He said.

 That was a first. “You could have left it with the manager.” She said.

           “It’s a special gift. I didn’t want to give to anyone, but you.”

“I understand.” She murmured, to appease him in case he was a stalker or worse.

“I’m Luscious Walker.” He said. “This will bring you luck.” He handed her a fifty-cent piece. It was twisted and flat.  It didn’t look lucky to her, just beaten, bruised, and battered.

“It looks beaten and battered—like me.”  She said, trying to lighten the situation.

“Exactly” He said.  

She winced, but said nothing.

           “Beaten and battered by life, I mean.” He amended.

“I get it.” She said.

She opened her pocket book, found her wallet and slipped it inside.

He seemed satisfied that she had secured it.

          “If this is your lucky charm, why are you giving it to me?”

           “You need it more than me. Merry Christmas.”

“Wait a minute, Luscious. How do you know I need it more than…”? Her voice trailed off. “He had disappeared. No fanfare, no magical trick, no cloud of smoke no poof. She retraced her step but couldn’t find him. The fifty-cent piece proved she hadn’t imagined the incident.  “Lucky me” she muttered as she jogged home. Her mother taught her to accept every gift in the spirit it’s given- with gratitude. Anyway, she could use a little luck this Christmas.

#

 It was five days before Christmas and Tandria had no idea to how she’s going to pay for the kids’ toys, repair the leaking roof.  Two days before Christmas and she planned on doing everything she can to get a sizeable tip. The roof will have to wait, but thirty dollars in tip would buy the kids their presents. She put her pocket book away to begin her shift, and the fifty-cent piece fell out. She picked it up and rubbed it, thinking about the disappointment on the kids faces when they discovered they had no gifts. How does one not get a lucky coin to work? “Lucky me,” she said aloud and rubbed it vigorously. “Let’s see what you do today, Lady luck.”

“Are you alright?” Cheryl her co-worker called to her.

“Just psyching myself up to face the day.” She responded.

The hours passed quickly, customers were coming and going in droves. She had a table of twenty people, who kept ordering and rejecting their food. She smiled, she ran back and forth, fetching and carrying and for her efforts, she received a $5.00 tip. At fifteen minutes to the end of her shift, she had fifteen dollars and seventy-seven cents—three dollars up from yesterday.   Another customer walked through the door. She recognized him immediately as Tom Marshall with the biggest and fanciest house in the neighborhood. He had moved in only six months ago. He came in regularly, always had a cup of coffee, and a slice of chocolate cake. He was a widower, who talked about his garden and she’d ask after his health and he’d asked after her children. He’d leave a tip now and again, but she didn’t mind that, he was such a pleasant customer.

“Hi Tom,” she said. “Your usual?”

“Nothing, for me today, I came to say goodbye.”

 “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, going to live with my daughter.”

“I’ll miss you.” She said.

 “I’ll miss you too.” He said. “I brought you a Christmas gift. He gave her a thick envelope, it appeared to have a Christmas card and something else. “Please don’t open it now, I have a cab waiting.”  She thanked him and watched him get in a taxi, waving until he was out of sight.

#

      Tandria reached home to see her mother was helping Sarah in the backseat of a taxi. Sarah’s face was covered in a blanket and Michael clung to her his little face tight and pinched with fear. The left side of Sarah’s face was the size of a large balloon and there was a little dark spot encircled with redness. Tandria’s heart tightened in fear.

           “What happened Mamma?”

“I took them to the park to park and something bit Sarah. We don’t know what.”

“Hang in there, Sarah.” She told her.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Sarah said.

“Is she going to die like Daddy?” Michael asked.”

“Hush Michael.” Grandma said.”

“The doctor will fix her.” Tandria told him and patted him on the shoulder.

 Tandria mind reeled. How will she pay the doctor? They didn’t have health insurance. She opened her pocket book and counted the money in her wallet. It was a paltry sum of $57.05. The taxi fare will cost half that. She re-counted the money as if that would increase it. The lucky fifty-cent piece seemed to mock her. She allowed her mother’s and the children voice to fade in background as she thought about her predicament.  She opened Tom’s envelope which had a beautiful Christmas card of silvery glittering angels, with the usual season’s greetings.  Sarah and Michael were now asleep. It was an hour to the nearest hospital. She needed a distraction from this saturating feeling of failure. She opened the bulky envelope. A check for fifty thousand dollars fell out. Her hands trembled as she reached again in the envelope. There were cash held together by rubber bands. A note on top with a post it read: for immediate expenses. She counted it twice, five thousand dollars.  There was still more: the deed to Tom’s house, a letter was on top.

 Dear Tandria,

 From the first time I ordered a cup of coffee, you’ve treated me with decency and grace. Even when I didn’t tip, you remained smiling, friendly, and courteous. People say treat people with respect, for you may entertain angels.  You’re the angel that helped me with my loneliness. I came to Mountain Creek to give away some my wealth and I’ve received something more valuable friendship.

 Best,

Tom

She was happy the children were asleep. Her tears would have frightened them. She wished she could tell him in person. “Thank you and that he had restored her faith in humanity and the magic of Christmas.” She couldn’t stop crying.

“Stop crying?” Her mother said. “We’ll pay the doctor, somehow.”

Tandria handed her mother the note and the bulging envelope.