Joe Christmas

Joe Christmas

By Sylvia Gillespie

Copyright 2022

Smashwords Edition

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Cover art by design9creative

Chapter 1: Loss

The wet streets of Crown City shown with the warm glow of Christmas lights. The cheerful decorations made the big city seem welcoming and bright despite the cold night and beggars on the sidewalk. The press of bodies made passage difficult, but still, the goodwill Santa rang his bell loudly, and thanked all that donated.

He wasn’t your usual department store Santa. His beard was natural and more steel gray than white. He was tall and round but nothing as friendly as a bowl full of jelly. His hat and suit were stained with soot and wet from a strange bought of light snow earlier. Neither wind nor wet had deterred him from that corner, wishing everyone well and watching every tiny thing around him with a twinkling eye and a furrowed brow.

Santa watched the young girl with a beautiful dress and thick winter coat snub a child for her threadbare jacket. He observed a young man flirt with a cute girl only to get turned down, lose his temper, and storm away. As sad as the behavior was, Santa watched people be people— hurried, grumpy people, rushing around too fast to enjoy the season or help anyone around them. The twinkle lights did nothing to lift their spirits. Everything was moving too fast for it.

The full moon was overhead before the crowd thinned and then disappeared. Santa had put his bell away but took his time picking up his donation box. Seemingly distracted, he often checked his watch as if waiting for something.

SCREECH!!! The sound of out-of-control tires shredded the night, followed by the blaring of police sirens.

Santa snatched up the donations bucket and backed to the wall, a huge grin belaying any fear of the situation. His rosy cheeks swelled into a grin, and his eyes sparkled as a red car skidded around the corner past him, skillfully avoiding pedestrians on the road.

Santa subtly waved at the ground in front of the car. The car skidded on a patch of ice and slammed into a wall, barely missing an alley full of homeless sleepers.

WHIRR!

The police cars block the car from leaving. Police officers poured out to secure the red car’s driver, who turned out to be an average nine-year-old boy in an enormous red hoodie and boots far too oversized for him, named Joe. Despite the rough ride and less-than-kind officer hands, Joe was grinning fit to crack his face.

Joe resisted the officers until he noticed Santa watching him from the corner.

Santa! Joe called, waving merrily.

Santa frowned and pointed to the police car.

Joe laughed but nodded, allowing the police to put him in the back.

Shaking their heads in disbelief, the officers cleared the street.

Chapter 2: Invisible

In a small, respectable middle-class home with sad Christmas decorations, sixteen-year-old Joe sat at the dining room table. Time hadn’t changed him much, but it hadn’t been kind either. The red hoodie still hung loosely on him, but it was old and worn to match his worn levies and boots, which were ripped and stained but not fashionable. In fact, his wallet had rubbed a hole in his back pocket. It could barely hold the wallet any longer.

Joe leaned his chair against the wall while playing a game on a cracked cell phone. The table barely fit in the room, and the ceiling was low, with an even lower glass and aluminum chandelier over the center of the table to make the room quite formal but cramped.

Joe’s eyes scanned the empty kitchen, passed the stairs down, and to the front door where his parents stood, saying hi and goodbye as they changed shifts. Mom was coming home from work, and dad headed out in an endless life cycle without living.

Suspended again, Dad muttered to Mom as if Joe couldn’t hear them talk about him, Only a week this time, and they sent homework. Dad was an average, slightly overweight nighttime manager at a 24-hour large