Loretta

by Will Thorpe

 

The cold December wind was a howling banshee through the streets of Berea, Kentucky. Wet blowing snow was freezing in my hair. I was rushing down the street as if somebody was chasing me; I sensed a presence in the air. The need to get to the Greyhound bus station and taste my first cup of black coffee for the day drove me forward. Leaning into the blizzard I turned the corner, almost running now.

Wham! The collision with a great Ichabod Crane creature in an oversized black greatcoat knocked me against the wall. Before I could even scream the creature had grasped me firmly by the arms. Then a thunderous voice roared, “There you are!” I knew I was a goner, or headed for trouble, none other than Warren Lambert the Dean of my high school history department had captured me alive.

“Hello Dean.”
“Will my boy, am I glad I finally found you.”
“I wasn’t lost Dean.”
“And neither will your spirit be lost if you do what I say.”
“What’s in it for me Dean Lambert?”
“You really think that you’re going to graduate don’t you Will?”
“OK Dean, who do I kill?”
“Santa Claus.”
“You want me to kill Santa Claus?”
“No Will, I want you to be Santa Claus.”

Well it seems that the second grade class at Berea Elementary School was only minutes from having a Christmas party and their Santa Claus was nowhere to be found. Dean Warren Lambert had somehow been roped into finding a replacement and he had me firmly lassoed.

I have to admit that once a few pillows were attached in the right spots and I was suited up I made a pretty good-looking Santa Claus.

“What do I do Mrs. Lambert?”
“Ho, Ho, Ho! Hand out the candy and listen to their Christmas lists.”
“HO! HO! HO! Climb up here in my lap boys and girls and tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

It didn’t take me long to figure out that I’d made a big mistake. About 30 little tykes, each with a list a country mile long. It went on and on and on and on some more. Dolls, fishing rods, bracelets, Captain Marvel, bicycles, sleds, perfume, they wanted it all. Finally it was over, time for Santa to escape to the bus station for that black coffee.

Then I saw her, a child, somebody’s daughter, standing there way off to the side with great pride and hair as dark as coal. She was looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I looked at her, she looked at me, and it was a standoff. “Come on over here” and very slowly and shyly she did. She stood quietly by my side.

“What’s your name?’
“Loretta.”
“Well Loretta, tell Santa all the many things you want for Christmas.”

Silence, more silence, I looked at her and she looked at me. I leaned closer and she said,

“Red rubber boots to keep my feet dry.”

Silence, more silence, lonely teardrops started rolling down my cheeks.

“Bye boys and girls, Santa has to go feed the reindeer, Merry Christmas!”

The gale force wind was swirling snow like winter dust devils. My eyes were freezing shut. Something was in the air, something after me. I was scared; I started to run, running, just running scared. Suddenly for no explainable reason my body came to a dead stop right in front of the College Shoe Shop. It was only three stores to the bus station and that black cup of coffee, roll on little buddy, you’ll make it, how can I roll when my feet won’t go? Standing there unable to move, an invisible presence had me firmly in its grasp. Frozen in that bitter December chill in front of that shoe store tears ran down my cheeks like falling rain.

I stood there shivering, thinking of my father and his story of being a little kid in Hazard, Kentucky. All year he had wanted a little red wagon for Christmas. The pain that he must have felt on Christmas morning when there was no little red wagon under the tree tore an open wound in my heart. I wanted to run, I wanted to hide, the tears were freezing to my face. I walked into the shoe store.

“Can I help you?”
“You got any red rubber boots?”
“Sure, what size?”
“About second grade little girl size.”
“I’ve got those. That’ll be $11.00.”
“Can you wrap them?”
“Yes.”
“OK, get it done, I’ve got to run.”

The darkness had descended and the shadows from the streetlights extended into ragged forms. Leaning into the wind like Captain Ahab I rushed headlong into the darkness. Rushing to get back to the elementary school before they locked the doors. The streets were slick with the falling snow but I ran trying to outrun whatever was behind me, pushing me, never did I run so fast. Softly the package containing the red rubber boots for Loretta went under the Christmas tree and in a flash my escape was made.

Heading back to the bus station for a cup of hot black coffee I noticed that the wind wasn’t blowing anymore. The twinkle of lights caught my eye, the storm had passed and I could see a bright star in the clear black sky. Looking around I couldn’t see a soul but in the still of the night I could feel a strong presence in the air.

Yes graduation came and Berea, Kentucky was left behind. Not a Christmas goes by though, even after 50 years, that I don’t think of Loretta and those red rubber boots.

Author’s Note:

Fifteen years later I flew home and surprised my parents on Christmas Eve. When I walked in the door my dad said, “What’s that you’re pulling behind you?” “Merry Christmas Dad” and I handed him his little red wagon.