Title: A Hero's Sin
Author: Buttons
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Drama/General
Chapter 10—Merry Hanukah
It was around this time in my life that I started to dream.
Not that I didn't dream before! But these dreams were different. They were more vivid. If I believed in them, or if they seemed even marginally plausible, I would have thought I was having visions or seeing the world through the eyes of someone else. However, I'd given up long ago actually possessing the body parts of anyone but myself. At least, in terms of my mouth, ears and father.
But these dreams were something else. They seemed so real. No matter how ridiculous they were, I would always convince my dream-self that they made perfect sense. If the dream took place in a desert, I would wake up with my covers thrust to the floor, panting and sweat forming on my brow line. If the dream was in a valley, I would see grass stains on my knees until I turned the light on. These dreams instilled a belief that I hold dear, even today: everything becomes clear in the light.
Now, these dreams could be just accounted to stress, in any normal circumstance. But my circumstances were not normal. They were far from it, in fact. Plus, there was one common thread that connected the dreams. A theme, shall we say, that I could not overlook as coincidence. Each one starred my father, in black and white (as that is the only way I've ever seen him) and Emmanuel. In the first dream, they were sitting on a beach, on top of a tall dune. I climbed up the dune to get to them and by the time I reached the top my hands were brown with sand and sweat and my toes were gritty with gritty grains. They sat at a table, playing chess with gorgeous marble chess pieces that I had seen earlier in the week at a department store. My father was the black pieces and Emmanuel was the white ones. There was a small pile of pawns and one black castle beside Emmanuel and more pawns plus a bishop beside my father.
"What's going on?" I had asked, out of breath.
"Dear," said my father, in what I imagined his voice sounded like, "your friend and I are playing chess. For you. Whoever loses will never see you again."
Emmanuel didn't answer. I looked to his face. He was grinding his teeth together and concentrating on the board.
"But why? If you want to see me, you can both see me!" I shouted at Emmanuel. He just ignored me and moved his pawn forward one space.
My father grinned a pointy-toothed smile. "Check."
And I woke up with a solitary tear running down my face. I blinked, as if clearing dream-sunlight from my eyes. The flat was dark and my mother's door was closed. Moonlight slanted in the window and my window was open, letting in snowflakes. I shut it slightly and pulled my sheets tight around me. The half-dead Christmas tree was sitting in the corner, the popcorn strands seemed to glow in the dark. It took me a few minutes to realize the date: Christmas morning, 1920. With the comforting thought of Christmas breakfast in my head, I fell into my mattress and back into rocky dreams.
0o0o0o0
It is late in the morning when I woke. I did not wake willingly, but because my cousin Samuel was jumping on my bed. I thought I was dreaming again. I rolled over, pulling my covers after me and shoving four-year-old Samuel off the bed in the process.
Bang!
I sat straight up. "What in God's name was that?" I screamed.
From the kitchen table, my mother 'tsk'ed. "Nichole, I thought I'd let you sleep in, since it's Christmas. Now help your cousin off the floor and get dressed."
My Uncle Les and his wife, my Aunt Ruth, were sitting on either side of my mother, drinking black coffee and watching me with passive interest. "Sorry Sam," I muttered, pulling Samuel to his feet and brushing him off, but I couldn't help wondering, What are they doing here? Should I have known about this?
Samuel looked right into my eyes. "It's fine," he said, "I shouldn't have woken you. But aren't you excited? It's the first day of Hanukah!"
"Huh?"
Samuel ran away and grabbed a candlestick holder off of the window ledge. It was gold-varnished and had eight places for candles. "Hanukah!" he exclaimed, brandishing the candlestick holder at me.
"Sammy, it's Christmas," I told him, trying to hide my confusion,
"Nichole," called my mother from the table, "remember that Christmas is a Christian holiday?"
And then it clued in. Right. Uncle Les was Jewish now.
"Well, Merry Hanukah," I said to Samuel, prying the candlestick holder from his hands and placing it back on the window ledge before he took out someone's eye. "Where're Marilyn and Elijah?"
"Sleeping," Samuel told me earnestly. "But I'm up because I'm so excited and because Uncle David is coming over soon and so is Aunt Emily and Aunty Sarah says that her neighbors are coming over for breakfast, but that you have to make the toast and I told her that I'd set the table, except that first Eli—"
"Uh-huh…listen, Sam, let me go get changed and then we can start on breakfast, alright?"
Sam nodded eagerly and settled himself amongst my still-warm bed sheets. I entered my mother's room and rifled through her drawers, searching for a clean blouse. I settled on a blue short-sleeved one from around when my mother was my age. I put a knit sweater on top to cut the cold. Elijah and Marilyn were dozing on my mother's bed, so I tiptoed around, careful not to wake them.
Back in the main room Sam had fallen asleep on my bed and my mother was turning on the stove. Someone knocked at the door. "That must me David and Emily, Nichole, could you get that please?"
But it wasn't Uncle David and Aunt Emily. "Emmanuel?"
He pulled his hat off his head. "Merry Christmas! Can I come in?"
I nodded and stepped aside to let him though the door. "How do you know where I live?"
"Medda told me," he answered.
My mother turned around and spotted Emmanuel. "Oh, hello. Are you a friend of Nichole's?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron and extending her hand.
Emmanuel introduced himself to everyone. "I'm so sorry to interrupt all of you this morning. I was just—"
"Oh! It's no problem at all. Won't you stay for breakfast?" My mother forced a cup of coffee into his hand.
"I suppose I could," Emmanuel said with a soft chuckle. Immediately Uncle Les struck up a conversation about how much New York City had changed since he was a kid.
"I can't imagine raising my children in a city these days. My wife and I have a small country home out in New Jersey. A wonderful environment for bringing up my sons and daughter. I remember back when I was the age of my eldest son, about nine, I was a newsboy, or a 'newsie', was we liked to call ourselves. Funny really, Nichole's father—"
"I'm sorry to interrupt sir, but you said you were a newsie?"
Uncle Les smiled in what I imagined he thought was a reminiscent way. "Yes, in Manhattan. Nichole's father was somewhat of a hero to us…"
"My brother was a newsie too."
Uncle Les snapped out of his daydream. "You don't say? What was his name?"
"Dominic Espinoza. He had a nickname though…Bumlets."
Uncle Les's hopeful face faltered from it's smile. "Yes, I remember your brother. Daresay I cried a bit when he died. But I was a kid."
"It's alright. I didn't know him well. I was too young to remember him. But you say Nichole's father was a newsie too?"
Uncle Les re-installed the smile to his face. "Why yes, the infamous Jack Kelly. Quite a hero, Jacky Boy. Good ol' Cowboy. I looked up to him. Followed him around a bit like a lost puppy, actually. Wish I knew exactly what happened to him."
"Yeah," Emmanuel caught my eye. "Yes, I've heard about him."
End Chapter
((Please, please, please review! Even if you've never reviewed before. I feel deprived, but that is probably my own falut. Hey, at least I'm honest.))