Christmas After All - by Pseudo Twili
Chapter 3: Substitute
As he entered his place of lodging, the back of Link's neck tickled with the sensation that someone was watching him. He spun around, but nothing he saw on the narrow, dirty streets was out of the ordinary. Oh, it was probably just the two old hags peering at him from behind their curtains. He made it up the stairs without either of them pouncing on him, and he knew what that meant; they had been in his room and had found the money he'd stashed in one of the holes in the wall. He sighed heavily as he wrenched open the door to his frigid apartment. At once he searched the hiding places and was only slightly relieved that the old witches hadn't found all his money. They'd never get their boney hands his precious little bank book though, for he always carried that on his person. They wouldn't be satisfied for long either; in the morning they would be after him for the remainder of what he owed them.
The young man had found some scrap wood earlier in the day, which he lit in his little stove. He consumed the bun that Zelda had given him while he waited for the fuel to catch, and then he fell wearily into bed. He was very cold and very tired, and he fell asleep in remarkably short time. That proved to be a grave error, which could have been fatal if he had not awakened to find that the blankets at the side of his mattress were on fire.
"What in the name of—!" he cried, forcibly torn from slumber and with madly pounding heart.
Link realized that he had let his blankets get too close to the stove and it was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't been burned in his bed. He yanked them away and smothered the small flames with the other half of his bedclothes. The room stank so terribly that he opened the window a crack so that he could clear his lungs. The only problem was that the aperture would only sometimes cooperate with his attempts at hoisting it upward and would not stay up on its own when he did. Any prop that he used for it was always falling out or just plain disappearing. Shivering, he stood next to the window, breathing the fresh, cold air as long as he could and then he dashed back to bed.
The smell of smoke still lingered nastily and he was both too cold and too awake with adrenaline to fall into slumber again. He lay awake for some hours, making several trips to the window to clear the room; this time he used his head and wrapped himself in his blankets. During one of those exposures to the iciness of the night, he lifted his head and gazed up at a hole in the clouds through which several stars twinkled.
And suddenly he laughed in a half strangled way as he recalled with a jolt something that had happened when his grandmother was alive. He and his sister had been alone in their two-room hut while their grandmother went out to deliver a couple of her completed sewing jobs. The children were feeling down because money was scarce and they knew the coming Christmas was going to be very simple. The little girl had started to cry softly and in desperation Link had come up with the brilliant idea of making some cookies to surprise grandma. Neither knew much about baking or in the use of the very old stove that was the elderly lady's only heirloom, but they hadn't let such little things inconvenience them.
When their grandmother had returned home, she found them frantically endeavoring to shoo great wafts of smoke from the house, while the open oven belched more of it out by the second. She quickly closed the oven door and adjusted the flue. They spent the rest of the day airing the house in stages, but the whole hut smelled of smoke for months and months afterward. The dear old lady had been more disturbed that the two young ones had even seen her and their consciences prickled them mightily. She made them solemnly promise that they would never try to use the stove unless she had given them permission; it was a promise that they never forgot.
A tear splashed onto the scorched blankets as Link recalled that his grandma had somehow made that Christmas a special one, despite their distinct lack of resources. She was the kind of woman who could always weave a magical cloth from the poorest supplies. Finally, the young man drifted off, still tortured with thoughts of his loved ones.
To his consternation, he overslept the next morning and was a hair's breadth away from missing the last train that would get him to the store on time. He dreaded having to return to work; the pleasantries of the day before seemed very far away as he stumbled up the flights of stairs to Fairyland. He still had the memories of the night on his mind, and he found himself searching through the people who thronged the floor for a young girl with blonde pigtails. He did not see her, though; he never did when desperate hope got the better of him and made him pin his happiness on mere chance.
Calamity seemed to strike the store the next day when Batreaux ate some bad frog's legs at lunch (fortunately not in the store's tearoom) and was quite sick. Tingle decided that Link would be a good substitute Santa, to which the latter very sullenly complied. He knew he was going to be miserable before he'd spent even ten minutes hearing the children's Christmas letters. The white beard and wig itched madly, the red suit and necessary stuffing were much too warm, and he was getting a sore throat from trying to sound old and cheery. He really couldn't see the charm in viewing the long, self-satisfying lists that he had pushed into his face, nor did he find any of Batreaux's joy in making the little ones happy.
His insufferable charade went on for five days while Batreaux recuperated. On the afternoon of the fourth, he spotted a familiar young lady who seemed to be searching for someone or something. Was she looking for him? he wondered, with a little tug at the corner of his mouth. No, she was probably just looking for her little brothers. All the same, he paid even less attention to the children who crawled onto his lap and kept his other eye on the girl.
"Will you remember what I want for Christmas, Santa?"
The boyish voice sounded very near his ear and Link almost replied in the negative before he caught himself. He wished he dared tell off all the little brats who came by the thousands to sit on his lap. He legs were so tired! Some of the little ones who came to him weren't so little and certainly weren't as light as they looked! He'd just had his lunch break and there was no chance to get away for hours yet. He told himself that he wasn't going to watch the clock but he kept taking peeks at it anyway.
Much later, the line of children had finally thinned to almost nothing, many people had gone home for their evening meals, and the store was getting ready to close. Link hadn't seen Zelda again and his mood was dragging in the proverbial dust as he rid himself of the loathsome red suit and put on his sorry excuse of an overcoat.
"Hello, Link!" exclaimed a familiar voice as he shuffled out onto the sidewalk.
His head jerked up and his eyes settled on pretty Zelda, bundled in a very cute jacket with pom-poms, fur and peaked hood. She clasped her matching mittened hands and smiled.
"I couldn't find you at your counter, Link! Where were you?"
The young man scowled. "That's because I was Santa Claus."
"Oh my! I didn't think of that! What happened to the other Santa?"
"He got sick."
"Oh. That's too bad! He's improving, I hope?"
"Yes, he'll be back soon."
"Link, I'm sorry I didn't come to the store sooner. I meant to come after we spent that afternoon in the park, but my mother had a cold and we were worried it was turning into something worse. She's much better now though."
He didn't know why she was apologizing; she hadn't promised him anything or let him know she was coming back. He looked at her carefully and noted the sincerity with which she spoke; all the while her beautiful eyes never flickered from his face.
"I… I am glad that your mother is better," he said at last and felt an awkward fool.
"I'll be sure to tell her you said so. Say, would you like to get something warm to drink? There's a little café just down the street."
He agreed with a nod and he was heartened when he recalled that he had purposely slipped into his pocket all that was left of last week's rupees. His landladies were terribly cross after the little accident in his room and since then were always snooping therein while he was gone.
They entered the warm establishment, which was doing a fine business that frigid evening. Zelda was immediately attracted to the darling, tiny table in a corner by the big front window and there did they seat themselves. A harried waitress with a nametag that labeled her as 'Iza' took their orders and was quite some time in coming back.
Zelda often glanced out the window and giggled a little as she told her companion, "I love to sit somewhere cozy like this and watch the people hurry by. Isn't the snow beautiful? I love to watch that too. Nothing is so nice as watching those little flakes flutter down!"
There was something peaceful about watching the snow. It came down slowly and steadily and it seemed to Link so different from the rushed movement on the street.
"I don't like the crowds. They're always pushing and shoving and trying to beat each other to the stores."
"They do seem in an awful rush, don't they? I always think how much they're missing because they don't take the time to stop lift their heads to the snow."
Iza swooped over with their hot chocolate and a single doughnut. Link had been watching for her and before Zelda could open her purse, he plunked all but five of his rupees on the table.
The waitress fingered the money. "The first doughnut is free, sir. It's a special just for tonight."
Link wished he'd known that before he'd forked over nearly all his rupees. Well, he certainly couldn't very well take them back now; he'd seem the most miserly of skinflints.
"Oh, well, just keep the change," he said, with the briefest of glances at Iza.
"Hey, now! Thanks!" she grinned and scooped the green and blue gems into her apron pocket. "Let me know if you need anything else!"
Both young people sipped the hot chocolate slowly, both to keep from burning off their taste buds and to savor the warmth as it glided down their throats like warm honey. Link tried to make it last as long as he could, for he knew that he would be eating very little until he was paid again at the end of the next day. Between those delightful sips, Zelda kept up a line of chatter that Link again found himself listening with definite, though subdued interest.
"When Joel and Zill found out that I was going to the department store without them they were so upset!" she giggled. "Joel told me he'd die if he had to stay in the house and do his lessons. I felt sorry for them, though, so I promised to take them tomorrow. I could bring them over to say hello to you, too!"
"Please don't tell me they'll have Christmas lists!" Link groaned.
"Well, I would be surprised if they didn't. Even though Dad and Mother have bought them some really nice toys, they're always thinking of more things they want. They're terribly spoiled, I'm afraid." She shook her head and tried to appear mournful.
Somehow, Link didn't mind it so much if he had to endure a couple of those tedious lists when he knew she'd be standing nearby. He was very much looking forward to their visit the next day.
"Oh my goodness!" she cried, with a glance at her dainty timepiece. "We've been here well over an hour! Can you believe it? I've just been talking your ear off again!"
He hated for it to end, but he admitted that he should head for bed; after all, he had to head to work bright and early the next morning. They parted on the sidewalk outside the café and Link trooped wearily to his train stop, all the while happily recalling every moment of that wonderful hour.
Zelda kept her word; the next afternoon she appeared with her little brothers in the lengthy line of children waiting to see him. The substitute Santa passed through those who were in front of them with hurried glances at their lists and a quick promise that they would get everything that was coming to them. Some of the children left, feeling a bit miffed that good ol' St. Nick had hardly paid any attention to them.
"Me first!" shrieked Zill as soon as their turn came up.
"Nuh-uh!" retorted Joel, and they raced for it.
"Will you two stop running into me?!" grumbled the substitute in a muffled voice. "I'm only going to have one of you on my lap at a time. You're first, Zill."
He lifted the boy to his lap, who promptly stuck out his tongue at his older brother. Joel returned with a raspberry.
"Do you two want me to kick you out of here?" Link hissed in his own voice.
"No!" both boys exclaimed.
Zill plucked at the expanse of phony white facial hair and inquired, "Is that really you in there, Mr. Link?"
"Of course I am! Don't pull on the beard!"
"I didn't know you were Santa," said the other boy, who was leaning against his knee.
"Yeah, well the real Santa got sick so I had to take over for a little while. Now are you going to show me your list or not?"
Zelda was standing nearby and she could keep neither giggles nor smiles from escaping her lips as the young man in disguise stumbled over the many ink blots and atrocious spelling mistakes.
"What the h— What is this, Zill? 'Intmate cawclot'?!"
"It's im'tation clawshots," replied the little boy, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "So, do I get it for Christmas, huh Mr. Link, um, Santa?"
The substitute cast a very sneaky, very sideways glance at the young lady who stood a few feet away. She gave him a slight nod by way of confirmation and he responded to the query. "Yes. But you have to improve your spelling, Zill. There's no excuse for sloppiness."
When it was Joel's turn, he climbed eagerly to the red lap and announced, "I want a sword, Santa Link! A real one! All I have are wooden ones that don't cut grass."
Zelda looked rather worried, but the young man nipped the idea right in the bud. "Nope. It's too dangerous!"
"But I want one!"
"You'd better be careful, Joel," said Link, pulling a page from Zelda's book and relishing a little revenge. "Little boys who ask for too much get nothing."
The boy clamped his mouth shut and pouted. When he glanced over at the young lady, Link was most surprised to see her wink at him. It felt so good to tell at least these two children a little taste of their own medicine!
Their visit was over all too quickly; Link bid them goodbye in his very best old, jolly voice and was actually a bit sorry that it was his last day of being the substitute Santa. It was certainly not the last time he saw them, though, as Zelda often met him after work and on Sunday afternoons. On a few occasions she brought her brothers along, more because she felt the need to get them out of the house than she thought Link would enjoy their company, but he didn't complain and he actually seemed to warm up to them in his own peculiar way.
When they met she would often ask him what he'd like to do, if he wanted to go to one of the city's lovely parks, do a little window-shopping, or just take in some of the night sights. She did not suggest going to a restaurant or café again, but Link did when he felt that he could afford a little snack at a lunch counter, drugstore or any of the other many establishments that offered fairly cheap food to the public.
Gradually, Link told his new friend a bit more about his past. One time they went to the top of the Linebeck Tower and instead of casting their eyes downward to the city lights that stretched beyond the horizon in every direction, they were both trying to catch glimpses of the winking stars through the filmy clouds.
"Next to watching snow fall, I love to stargaze," the girl mused dreamily. "I can look up at the stars and think of another time and place that I was watching the exact same constellations with someone. Do you ever feel like that, Link?"
"Yes," he replied, in a tone so low that she could hardly hear him. "My grandmother would take my sister and me to the short wall on the outskirts of our town and we'd sit there and look at the stars. She knew all the constellations."
"Hmm… I've never sat upon a wall to stargaze. Hey, do you want to try it with this balcony right here?"
She pressed her hands on the cold stone and looked over the edge; she couldn't even see the streets below them, but she didn't let that stop her. She climbed right up and swung her legs over the side. Link looked after her with such wide eyes and open-mouthed amazement; he followed her example quickly, as if to keep her from doing something even more reckless.
"I can't believe I've never thought of doing this before!" she exclaimed, giddy from the height and the exhilarating new experience. "I won't forget this night."
Another time they were strolling still busy streets in an hour well past dark. Some people were already in their cozy homes getting ready for bed, but a number of others were still out on the streets. Zelda spotted an elderly lady who joined two young children in staring through a shop window. Both little ones were very excited, cast their soulful eyes to their grandmother and begged that she buy them the fabulous toy that caught their attention through the glass.
After they had walked by, Zelda murmured to her companion, "That was a darling scene, wasn't it? I wonder what their granny will do…" She glanced back and noticed that the gray-haired lady was slowly shaking her head.
Link was very quiet for several minutes as they crunched through old snow on the sidewalks. Then they turned onto a different street and drifted away from the hustle and bustle and noise. The girl could tell that something was on his mind but she didn't press it. They passed between the warm glow of the streetlamps and it was in one of those dark spots that he finally spoke.
"We never had enough money to buy fancy toys. My grandma could barely scrape together enough for the three of us, but she always made Christmas a special day for my sister and me. She made all our clothes and toys from the scraps left from her sewing jobs. One year I wanted a kite from the store, but because we hadn't the money she made one herself and gave it to me. My grandma, my sister and I sat by the fire on Christmas evening and tied little remnants of fabric to the tail of the kite. The next day we went out and practiced flying it. I was always sure it went higher than any other kites because of the love she put into it."
"That was wonderful! I think I love your grandmother!"
One evening, Zelda suggested that they take a shortcut across a cemetery. She began by rushing ahead with a backward cry of "Come on, Link!"
He couldn't just leave her, no matter how much he detested entering the place of the dead; at last he passed through the old gates with a shiver. Only when they had come safely to the other side did the girl cease her breathless run and notice that her companion was very pale.
"Link, are you all right?" she queried, worriedly.
"I don't like graveyards," he admitted. "They remind me of when my grandma died. My sister and I… were separated right after the funeral."
"Oh! I didn't think…!" she cried softly, looking at her hands miserably. "I'm sorry, Link."
Somehow, old fear didn't keep him in its grip as it used to. "Don't worry about it, Miss Zelda. I can't avoid graveyards all my life."
She gazed into his eyes and knew he was only trying to comfort her, for there was still pain behind his look of kindness. She took his hand and they began walking again. The girl averted her head to keep him from glimpsing her tears.
One day Zelda inadvertently saw his little bank book, too. They had returned to the same café that they'd first patronized, and each had a mug of hot chocolate and one doughnut between them. Link insisted on paying the bill again and in the process of trying to find the last rupee he knew he had on him, he wound up taking everything out of his pockets. Zelda noticed the miniscule book with the etching of a rupee on the front, which banks always gave to their customers.
Link finally found the last green rupee and gave all to the waitress. He noticed the girl's eye on the little item as he slid it safely back in its place in his inside pocket.
"I'm saving up," he told her. "I think I'll have enough in the new year."
"Would I be prying if I asked you what it's for?" she asked very quietly, noting that he was very careful in his action of putting it away.
"I am going to find my sister."
01-08-2016 ~ Published (3,827 words)
