AN: Reader BEWARE. There are scenes involving child abuse and some minor ideologically sensitive material. I am writing this in equivalent in the time period of when thoughts were thought like that. Please forgive me if any offense is taken. I will be happy to change the content.
And when those blue snowflakes start fallin'/That's when those blue memories start callin'/You'll be doin' alright with your Christmas of white/I'll have a blue, blue Christmas -Elvis Presley
Once-ler wanted to learn more...and more. He was hungry for knowledge. He loved to read, learn and inventing things. He would come up with a ideas and draw it out. Nobody at home seemed interested in his inventions. When he tried to show his family his ideas for inventions, he was only met with an indifferent 'eh'.
While sitting on his bed, plucking at the strings of his Dad's guitar, he looked down at his baggy clothes, full of holes. He was tired of being cold in the winter season. His jacket was paper thin...along with his brothers. He had to tuck his hands in his pocket or under his arms and his head down to keep warm. His cheeks would be pink, shivering as the icy air would bite his flesh.
Would his Mom be willing to give him money to buy a new coat? He had a feeling she'd say no, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. He didn't want to end up with his brothers' hand-me-downs again. After coming home from school one cold fall day, he saw Mom reading a book and had a ball of yarn with knitting needles next to her chair. He quietly peered in and observed as she held two knitting needles and tried to learn to knit. She cursed several times as she messed up or knotted.
"This is impossible! Why did I even buy this book is beyond me!" she grumbled, flinging the needles and yarn aside.
Once-ler looked at his frustrated Mom, a bit nervous. He wrung his hands a bit...then took a deep breath and let go of his fear. His confidence boosted up after that.
"Mom?" he began.
"What?" Isabella said a bit annoyed by his presence.
"Um...I wanted to ask you for...er...some money."
Isabella narrowed her eyes. What was this boy up to? "Why?"
"I'd like to get a new coat for myself."
"What is wrong with the coat you already have?"
"I'm not complaining or anything, Mom," Once-ler explained. "It's just not warm enough and it has holes. I did see one in the store walking home from school and it's not expensive and I tried it on and it was perfect."
"Oncie, we can't afford new coats. You're just going to have to live with what you have."
Once-ler frowned when he heard this, sighing with disappointment. He figured she would say no. He really wanted that coat. It was grey like his dad's fedora. He would stare longingly at it in the window every day, shivering in the cold.
"Please, Mom. I'll do anything for it."
The boy just wouldn't quit. She was a bit intrigued when she heard his plea. With slit eyes, she smirked to herself of what exactly she could get out of him. He was willing to do anything to get something he wanted.
"Anything?" she said.
He nodded, his blue eyes filled with eagerness.
"Well, just do all your chores and mind your manners 'til I get the welfare check by next month. How about that?"
Once-ler lit up with delight. He would finally get a new coat. "I promise, Mom," he assured her with a smile. "And thank you so much!"
She looked at her son for a moment, a bit disgusted that he still looked like his Daddy. With a forced smile, she cupped his face and stroked his hair with phony affection. He was such a good boy. So willing to do anything to please her.
Once-ler kept his promise. Isabella gave him extra chores, running him ragged until he was sore and tired. Yet, he didn't give up. He kept counting the days until the next welfare check came. Once the day finally came, a very exhausted Once-ler saw his coat...on his brothers! He stared in shock.
"Mom!" he gasped. "That's...my coat!"
"Yes," said Isabella with a smug look. "And thank you for the idea, Oncie. Brett and Chet outgrew their coats so you can have their old ones."
He froze. He did all that work for a month for nothing, only for his mom to steal his idea and give his brothers new coats?! He felt angry for the first time after suppressing it for years. His Mom was being unfair: from excluding him from his brothers' birthday parties and making him work in the kitchen to cook food for their party to leaving him out at bedtime stories to completely ignoring his own existence or mocking him that he was a disappointment or worthless. The list could go on and on. The bottled-up anger inside him exploded out of him.
"But that's not fair!" he yelled, his cheeks turning red. "You said you would give me money so I could get a new coat!"
"Oncie, don't shout," she scolded. "Be thankful for what you got. There are children who don't have nice things like us."
"But you promised, Mom! You said if I did all my chores..."
"ONCIE, ENOUGH!" she shrieked.
"NO!" he shouted, his face burning with anger. "YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE, MOM! I ASKED FOR THAT COAT FIRST! I WORKED ALL MONTH AND WAS GOOD LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO BE! I NEVER ASK FOR ANYTHING AND IT'S NOT FAIR!"
She had enough of this. Isabella slapped him across the face; he cried out in pain. It sounded like a leather strap and left a huge red handprint. The twins flinched a bit at the sound. They knew not to stay on Momma's bad side. Aunt Grizelda just smiled meanly; the boy had a mouth. He talked back and needed to be taught a lesson. Uncle Ubb just shook his head.
Once-ler didn't cry, though his eyes were brimming with tears. He pushed them back and rubbed his sore cheek, frowning. He swallowed, feeling his heart pounding angrily inside his chest. He tried to calm himself. He was used to being physically punished: slaps, belts, even his own two brothers beat him up. Physical pain was easy to get over, it was the emotional pain that was a little difficult. His feelings being stomped on, rejected, told he was worthless or what he did was not normal or unmanly like crying...he had to wall off his hurt feelings, bury it deep if he had to. He just had to keep telling himself just ignore it. Just let it roll off like water on a duck's back. Yet how can one treat it like it was nothing when those hurtful words came from his family, the very people who were supposed to love and care for him? All he wanted was for someone to tell him he mattered...the only one who did that was his Daddy. But he was dead.
"You are a very ungrateful child, Oncie," Isabella said, calming down. "Now if you're not happy with your clothes, then you can either accept what you have or make them yourself."
Once-ler was disappointed. But when he heard this, he forgot his anger. He liked this idea. He would make his own clothes, scarves and mittens...a blanket for himself! He'd never have to wear holey hand-me-downs again. That's right! If he couldn't get new clothes, then he could make them!
"Really?" he said.
"What?" Isabella said confused.
"I can make my own clothes?"
Isabella was shocked. For a moment there, she thought the boy would quit. Why was it he didn't?
"You want to make your own clothes?" Isabella said with a raised eyebrow.
The twins were sniggering, calling him a girl or queer. He didn't even acknowledge their laughter this time. He was lost in his thoughts about the idea his Mom told him.
"Yea," he said smiling.
Isabella scoffed, unable to believe her son was considering this. He was always a weird, abnormal boy anyway. His Daddy was sensitive like Oncie, but not like this.
"Be my guest, Oncie," said Isabella.
"And while you're at it, make yourself a little skirt," suggested Aunt Grizelda meanly.
The laughter exploded from his family, ringing in his ears. Once-ler was humiliated, but swallowed and walled up another hurt feeling and walked away. He was just about to go to the kitchen pantry to eat some marshmallows when he looked towards the living room where his Mom had abandoned the knitting book, yarn and needles. He picked them up and dashed into the pantry. With a bag of marshmallows next to him, he opened to the page for a simple knitting pattern. It was hard at first, but he remembered when Daddy told him that if he practiced, he would get better every day. And he did. Besides, Momma wouldn't notice the yarn and needles were gone since she didn't seem interested. He really liked it. He made himself a new scarf and mittens and he was much warmer. He felt happier. He liked making things.
Though he found a new interest, still he hated his clothes: they were always falling off of him. He would like to have clothes that actually fit him for once. There had to be more than knitting. He thought about how Brett and Chet's clothes were full of holes. Maybe he could fix them so they wouldn't have to get rid of them. But he thought about patches..
Nah, not a good idea. he thought to himself. I already get made fun of enough at school for being a hobo.
More ideas came up in his head of what possibilities there were. He could make stuff for Brett and Chet so they could have something for the winter. Christmas was coming soon. It'd be a wonderful present for them. Maybe he could make something special for Momma and his aunt and uncle. Yet, he didn't know how to sew. God forbid that Momma found out he had taken up such a hobby. He was sure to get teased for it. He knew there was a home economics class at school. But it was full of girls...and he didn't want to get ridiculed. Maybe he should talk to the teacher there...
Ms. Elizabeth 'Betsy' Wimble was the middle school home economics teacher. She had red hair, coke glasses, soft puppy dog eyes and a pleasant face with a little plumpness. She was the sweetest teacher of all. Very gentle and approachable. A woman of new-fangled ideas.
She remembered Once-ler: a skinny, shy boy in an oversized grey fedora hiding his shaggy mop of black hair that hung in his blue eyes. He was a loner and teased for his big clothes, broken shoes or just being smart. Yet there was that enthusiasm and eagerness to learn...optimism. She would see him sitting in the library or at study hall absorbed in his books. She had heard the other teachers that Once-ler was a smart boy. That he would do great things. That he had a bright future.
Often he'd look in the window at the class knitting, sewing and baking. Then as soon as Ms. Wimble saw him, he took off running, embarrassed. The girls would giggle and whisper as they saw the pathetic 12-year-old boy running away. Ms. Wimble would give a small smile. She had a feeling he wanted to be a part of the class, but was just too shy to come.
It happened on a Friday afternoon when school was over. Ms. Wimble was looking through everyone's homework when she heard a small knock on the door. She opened the door and saw the shy boy who looked in the window; his round cheeks were flushed, trembling. The poor thing was scared as a lost fawn.
"Why hello there, Mr. Once-ler," said Ms. Wimble smiling. "What are you doing here after school?"
Once-ler could barely look up at the home ec teacher. He hugged his books tightly, very embarrassed. He was shy around girls, but Ms. Wimble seemed like a nice teacher. He tried to tell her what he wanted, but it came out in an inaudible murmur.
"Sorry?" she said very confused.
"M-m-Ms. Wimble...w-would you teach me how to sew?" he said with a quaver in his voice.
The boy lowered his head, expecting her to laugh at him or say something mean. But to his surprise, the Home Ec teacher smiled gently.
"Is that why you've been looking in my window? Why don't you just come to class, sweetheart?"
"I can't," he said, his eyes filled with fear.
"Why not?"
"Everyone will laugh at me. It's all girls and everyone will think I'm unmanly."
Those words made Ms. Wimble feel sympathetic towards Once-ler. She looked at him with kind eyes.
"Oh sweetheart, there's nothing unmanly about it. Sewing is a good skill to learn."
"But what men sew?"
"The soldiers in the military do it. Those patches and tears on their uniforms. There aren't any women to do that for them...especially on the battlefield."
A shy smile curved in the boy's round face when he heard this from Ms. Wimble. He hugged his books tightly to his chest.
"So why do you wanna learn to sew?"
"I don't like my clothes. They're too big."
Ms. Wimble figured that was why. Poor thing! He was so skinny and they barely hung on his frame. The kids would pull his pants down as a practical joke. And they had holes, which she guessed it was probably just from rough play with those rowdy, simpleminded twin brothers of his.
"I can teach you some hand stitching. I'd show you how to use the sewing machines, but I'm afraid they're broken. I have to have them fixed, which could take a while."
Once-ler really wanted to learn to sew. Yet hearing that the machines were broken...he wanted to know how they worked. After all those hours spent reading books on mechanical engineering, he was up for any kind of challenge. All those times in study hall, in the library, reading every book he could get his hands on. He liked anything that was about engineering. His mind bubbled with ideas for inventions.
"I'll try to fix them...if you want," he said. "If I do that, could you teach me to use the machines?"
Another smile from the Home Ec teacher. He was a sweet boy. "Y'got yourself a deal, Mr. Once-ler."
The boy lit up with a wide smile, his blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. He got right to work fixing the sewing machines. His mind buzzed as his eyes darted towards every part and gears in the machine. Once-ler promised to bring in some tools to fix them tomorrow. Ms. Wimble showed him different stitches to fix some of the holes without using patches and to hem his baggy clothes so that they would fit him better. Once-ler was ever glad that he learned this skill. He could finally make his hand-me-downs fit him better.
The next day, he brought his tools to fix the sewing machines and fixed one after an hour. Ms. Wimble showed him how to use the sewing machine and he was delighted.
"What other special skills can you do besides fixing things?" asked Ms. Wimble curiously.
"I..." Once-ler stammered, his cheeks burning. "I like to knit."
"That's wonderful. Knitting's just as good as sewing. What else?"
"I can cook...and clean."
Another smile from Ms. Wimble. Once-ler's cheeks were red as cherries. She knew a few sensitive boys who liked to do things like that...but they were too embarrassed to come to class.
"You don't think it's...unmanly?" he asked.
"No. There's nothing unmanly about what your talents are. If you like doing what you're doing, then you should just enjoy it. Just because people think it is doesn't mean it's always true. My Daddy liked to knit and cook; plus my Momma appreciated that she could have a break from being a housewife."
Once-ler smiled. He decided to tell himself this everyday. Nothing unmanly about knitting. No sir.
Over the weekend, Once-ler gathered up some of the hand-me-down clothes from his brothers. He also found a pink dress his Momma was throwing away. It had puffed sleeves, small polka dots and purple flowers on the bodice with red frills and a velvet sash. Seemed like a waste to throw away.
He hid these in his bag and went to meet with Ms. Wimble to learn how to make his own clothes.
"What do you want to make, Once-ler?" Ms. Wimble asked.
He showed her the pink dress, blushing.
"Momma was throwing this away," he said. "I'd like to make it an apron...for her. Y'know a present for Christmas."
Ms. Wimble smiled. "That's a wonderful idea, Once-ler. I always say 'waste not, want not.'" She paused to think. "I might have a simple pattern you could use to make it. It shouldn't be too hard."
She went in the supply closet for some pins, sewing needles, pink thread, scissors, a pincushion, and of course the apron patterns. She handed the pattern to Once-ler and he looked it over. He cut up the dress and the pattern paper he chose, getting to work right away. The sewing machine hummed and whirred as he pressed the petal with his foot, looking very intense as he created. Many hours later, he had finished and showed Ms. Wimble his apron. She smiled.
"You really should come to class, Once-ler," she said. "You'd be a better teacher than me."
"Nah. I like this better. It's quiet and I can concentrate."
"Alright then. If you insist."
Once-ler gathered up his belongings and was about to leave, thanking her for allowing her to come after school and let him work.
"One of my stoves is broken," she said. "Y'think you can fix it?"
Once-ler just smiled, full of determined enthusiasm. He knew he could. He grabbed up his tools and got to work.
Christmas time came. White snow had freshly fallen on the ground at the family farm. Once-ler wrapped all his presents, smiling to himself. He made Brett and Chet matching scarves and mittens. Aunt Grizelda a knitted hat. Uncle Ubb a pair of socks. And for his Momma, a special apron for her. He didn't really get a lot of presents...mostly used toys from his brothers. Still he told himself it was better than nothing.
He handed everyone their gifts with a big smile, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. They opened their gifts, staring dumbfounded and confused. He gave Momma his present last.
"This is for you, Momma," he said with a big smile.
She opened her present and beheld the pink apron that Once-ler had made for her. He looked bashful and proud at the same time. Momma's face dropped when she beheld the pink fabric. Instead of an overjoyed expression, it was met with a bitter glare.
"Oncie," she said in a tight voice. "Where did you get this?"
"I made it, Momma," he said.
Raised eyebrows. "Made it?"
"Yea, Momma. I'm taking a home ec class at school. I'm learning how to sew."
"Sew?" said Aunt Grizelda. "What else did you learn: knitting and crocheting?"
"Knitting, yes. But I taught myself..."
"Well, what do you know, Bells? Your Oncie is a queer," said Aunt Grizelda meanly.
Once-ler just sat there in silence. There was stupid laughter from Brett and Chet, pointing.
"Queer! BURN!" guffawed Brett.
"What is WRONG with you, Oncie?!" said Isabella, incredulous and offended. "Are you queer?"
"What?! No, Momma," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "I swear. I just saw this pink dress you were throwing away and I wanted to make something special to surprise you..."
You went through my trash?! HOW DARE YOU!" she shrieked. "There was a reason I threw away that dress! I wore when I went on my first date with your Daddy!"
Once-ler's face blanched in horror. Adrenaline was pumped throughout his body, making him shaking all over, sweat dripped from his forehead and his heart pounded in his chest.
"You really are a stupid shit, Oncie! I was trying to purge those memories of that sonofabitch and you just slap me in the face with this atrocious gift!"
"I'm sorry, Momma," he fumbled. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to..."
"Just go get breakfast ready...and get this beastly thing out of my sight!" she snapped, shoving the box back into Once-ler's hands.
Crestfallen, Once-ler went into the kitchen, holding the beautiful apron he had made that was blatantly rejected. How was he supposed to know? All he saw was something that was cast off and decided to make a use of it. And he didn't hear a word of 'thank you' from anyone for the gifts he had made. He heard more laughing, knee slapping, heads thrown back in the living room about him knitting and sewing...Once-ler numbed himself, walling up the hurt again;
Just pretend it doesn't bother you. That it doesn't matter. Nothing unmanly about knitting or sewing. No sir.
He decided he wasn't going to throw this creation he made. He would use it. Screw it if his Momma didn't like it. He put it on and began to cook Christmas breakfast for his family. They teased him a bit, but he blocked it out. After cleaning up after Christmas breakfast and dinner, he took off the pink apron and hung it up in his little corner of the pantry.
When school started up again, he went back to meet with Ms. Wimble to use the sewing machines.
"How'd it go, Once-ler?" said Ms. Wimble. "Did everyone like their gifts?"
Once-ler felt a pang in his heart; he was hurt. He shook his head sadly. Ms. Wimble's face fell a bit when she looked at the young man. He tried to keep his hurt feelings inside and bury them; it was like a pressure cooker: it could only keep back so much force until it exploded. Every suppressed feeling came pouring out of him like an overflowing dam that couldn't hold back anymore. He lowered his head to hide his face; he didn't want his teacher to see him like this.
Don't cry. You're a man. It's unmanly.
Ms. Wimble saw the boy was shaking, hearing what sounded like sniffling and whimpering underneath that oversized fedora that hid his face.
"What? What's wrong, Once-ler? What happened?" she asked, sitting next to him.
He wrung his hands until there were white knuckles. He looked up at Ms. Wimble; his screwed-up face was flushed. His eyes were like dewy forget-me-nots and his round, speckled cheeks were streaming with tears. Snot ran from his nose. He couldn't hold back anymore and began sobbing loudly. He was too upset and embarrassed that he had to cry in front of all people. Normally he would find a quiet place like the pantry or into his pillow to let go of his emotions.
Ms. Wimble was struck with immediate sadness as she saw this sweet boy crying. What went on in that house?
"Momma didn't like my gift," he said, his voice quivered and he wiped his eyes. "She said I'm such a screw-up. I don't know what I did wrong."
He continued to sob, gasping for breaths. His chest felt tight. His walled off hurt feelings came pouring out like an overflowing dam. Ms. Wimble looked at the crying boy. She wanted to take this sweet boy home with her. Hug him and hold him until all the hurt was gone. Let him cry into her shoulder until he felt better.
"Nobody loves me, Ms. Wimble. The only person who ever loved me was my Daddy...and he's dead. Momma said I'm nothing...that I'm worthless..."
"That's not true, Once-ler," she said, putting a hand on his thin shoulder, feeling him shudder with each sob. "You're not worthless. You're not nothing. If you were any of those things, I would have broken sewing machines and stove."
She paused to look into that hurt boy's eyes. Once-ler listened as he heard those words. She said it like a fact.
"You're a sweet, smart boy, Once-ler. And you are going to do great things," she continued. "I know you are. Whatever dreams you have, you should make them come true."
Once-ler looked at his teacher. He felt better hearing those words. It was just like what his Daddy said to him.
"I want you to build your confidence, Mr. Once-ler," she said to him. "First thing every morning, I want you to look in the mirror and say this: I have confidence in myself. I will not believe others that tell me I can't.'"
"O-OK," he said, sniffling, wiping the mingle of snot and tears with his sleeve. "Sorry for crying in front of you."
"There's nothing bad about crying, Once-ler," said Ms. Wimble. "You're allowed to have feelings like that. And if you need to cry, you're more than welcome to do so here."
Once-ler smiled painfully, his lip quivering. He was happy he had a friend.
"What plans do you have for the future, Once-ler?"
"Make inventions and sell them," he said with a shrug.
"Well that's great. You'll make a lot of money. But if you want to be in the business world, you need to be confident in yourself. You've always got your head down, hiding under your hat all mopey. C'mere you big silly. Let's go look at yourself."
She took the boy towards a mirror, tilting his hat back so his face could be seen better. His eyes were still wet.
"Go on, Once-ler, look at yourself," she encouraged.
Once-ler was so scared. He had been teased about his appearance for so long that he couldn't. Slowly he raised his eyes up and looked: seeing a morose boy with puffy wet eyes.
"Now see? That's a very handsome young man. I mean look your eyes," she said, cupping his chin. "They're beautiful."
He felt his self-esteem start to rise and a small smile curved into his round face as he was told this. Ms. Wimble wiped away a teardrop with her thumb.
"And your hair. It's lovely hair," he told him, sweeping his shaggy bangs off to the side. "Your nose, your lips...and your cheeks. These are all good qualities you have. I'm surprised the girls aren't swooning over you."
Once-ler smiled bashfully, blush bloomed. Never in his life had anyone told him these things. Except his Daddy. He wanted to cry again, but he wasn't sure he had the stamina to do so. He felt his heart melt and felt better about himself.
"Feel better now?" she said.
He nodded.
"And that's what I want you to do every time you wake up in the morning or you feel bad. Just look at yourself and see all the good qualities you have. You're a sweet, sensitive handsome young man. And you keep tell yourself that."
Another nod from him, promising her he would. Ms. Wimble smiled.
"I got somethin' for you," she said.
She went over to the supply closet and came out with something under her arm, what looked like a bolt of blue fabric. She smiled and handed it to Once-ler. He held it and saw the fabric had yellow bunnies on them.
"I saw this in the store over the holiday break and it made me think of you," she said. "I dunno if you like bunnies, but just seeing them put a smile on my face. I figured you'd want to make yourself something next time you came back from the break."
Once-ler already was smiling and he touched the fabric. His face lit up with joy.
"Thank you, Ms. Wimble," he said. "This is the best Christmas present I've ever gotten."
Ms. Wimble smiled. "You're welcome. Feel free to go in the supply closet and pick out a pattern you want to make. I'm gonna correct some papers while you get to work."
The young man's sadness had dissipated from the blue Christmas he had and he was excited to get to work. He looked at different patterns and picked out one. With a mingle of scissors, needles, thread, measuring tape, the whirr of the sewing machine. When it got late, Ms. Wimble allowed him to leave his stuff in the supply closet where it could be safe. She assured him that no one would be allowed to touch it.
After several days of diligently working on his newest creation, he completed his next piece and by far his best and favorite of all: blue pajamas printed with yellow bunnies. He made a pocket on the breast. Sewed some buttons on them. He couldn't wait to wear them when he got home.