To My Vandal….. With Love.

     It looked like it was going to snow. The cold was getting worse everyday and the nights were unbearably bitter.

     Janaica lifted her face in one abrupt motion and glared at the cold, grey December sky.  The steel was reflected in her eyes of roughly the same color. The one thing that made Janaica look older and more terrifying than her 14 year old self, were her steel grey eyes. She had a straight nose, full pink lips, now pale from the cold and high cheekbones-all belonging to her mother.

     But her mother belonged to heaven. Janaica stamped her feet to warm them up as she had a fleeting memory of her mother. Her mother and the smell of the warm, clean kitchen, of  pots of steaming soup and apple-pie weekends. Everything had vanished with her death. A six year old wide-eyed child and a not so brave husband were all that was left. Janaica got over the loss mainly because she didn’t know much. But her father couldn’t take it. He would drink most of the time and end up heavily in debt. Ultimately they lost everything. Their house, the small car, and a few antiques owned by her mother.

     It would be Christmas in another five days. Janaica lit a cigarette and drew in the smoke as she trudged up the road. Now Janaica cared about Christmas. Not because of what it meant to the whole world. She couldn’t even spell Christmas. Actually she couldn’t spell for nuts. But she cared, because the marijuana she was secretly obtaining from the dingy alleys in Benson Town, would become  more expensive.  That meant more odd jobs. She let out a string of swear words at the thought.

     This was Benson Town. A little land-locked town in its own world. The entrance to the town had a bunch of houses of the middle-classes. Then there were the posh villas and mansions overlooking Benson Lake.  Then the smaller houses all in a row with neat bronze numbers on the doors. As Janaica passed these houses, she saw the decorations on the gates and doors. Colorful ribbons, holly, beautiful Christmas trees and tiny cribs.

     Janaica smirked. ‘Celebrating Christmas eh?’ she thought. ‘How lovely.’

     She suddenly felt very jealous of these people. Not a care in the world, lots of money to spend…. ”Time to move on Jan” she told herself. “These scumbags are not your type.” She kept walking down the road, chewing on the cigarette when she noticed the brightly decorated front yard of Door No 52. A tiny sign on the gate read ‘Joy To The World’.

      Janaica  laughed.

     “Yeah.. Joy to pigs!” she guffawed. And on a sudden impulse she tore down the sign. She pulled off the holly hanging neatly on the spikes of the gate. “Joy to pigs!!” And she ran all the way down the road chortling.  Tired, she stopped and caught her breath. Her frost-bitten ears were stinging. But she felt exhilarated from the experience of destroying someones hard work. 

     The houses grew smaller and smaller till they were replaced by smelly, dark alleys where stray cats hissed and scratched and dirty, young men passed lewd comments  at the passing girls. Janaica crossed the tiny marketplace that was now closed and entered the small alley next to it. Five houses down the lane was her home. No decoration, no Christmas.

      She put out the cigarette and got into the house. Thankfully her father was nowhere in sight. It was dark outside by the time she had fixed herself a greasy hamburger and soda for dinner. She went to sleep, her stomach still growling loudly.

     The next day, as she was passing the row of neat houses again, and rubbing her palms together to keep warm, she saw Door no.52 had the sign back on. ‘Joy To The World’. New holly hung on the gate.

     She pulled it down again, this time breaking the plastic sign in two. And she ran off laughing madly.

     By the next evening a new sign was up. Janaica turned red with infuriation. “I love this game!!” she yelled, pulling down the sign and bursting some balloons that had been put up on the hinge. “You’ll get tired! But I wont!” she spat and set off on a mad run.

     But to her annoyance the sign was back again the next evening. This time she opened the gate, ran up the slippery path and rang the doorbell five times.  Then chuckling with glee, she sprinted back again. At the gate, she wreaked her usual havoc with the holly and looked up at the house. An old lady with crinkly blue eyes was looking at her from the window.

     “My name’s Janaica” she screamed, still laughing. “Catch me if you can!”

     The face at the window disappeared. But nobody came to meet her. “What is it?” she yelled “Looking for your scarf and gloves? Look at me! I haven’t any scarf or gloves!”

     Still nobody. Irritated by the old woman’s lack of response, she kicked the gate and walked back quietly.

     On Christmas eve as she passed Door no.52 Janaica was surprised. There was no sign on the gate. No balloons or ribbons. There was only one holly on the gate. Janaica gloated triumphantly and reached out to grab it, when she saw someone walk around the house, towards her. It was a young lady , a few years older to her. Janaica took a step backward and turned to run when the lady spoke.

     “Wait! Are you Janaica?” she said.

     Janaica hesitated.

     “I maybe. Why?” she replied defiantly.

      ”Wait a moment please.” said the girl with perfect manners and walked back to the house.

     Bewildered Janaica waited for the young lady to return. She had a box in her hands.

     “I am Amanda Jones. I live down the lane. This is Mrs. Blackfeather’s house. She left this Christmas gift for you.” She handed Janaica the box. Her name was written on the cover.

     Janaica was utterly confused.  “Where is she? Why did she leave this for me? Doesn’t she have any family to give gifts to?”

     “No” replied Amanda shortly.

     “So where is she? Can I talk to her?” Janaica asked awkwardly.

      “She died last night. She had cancer.” said Amanda quietly.

     Janaica stared.

      She tried to take in the news. After several moments she opened the box. Inside was a red scarf with a green border, and thick red woollen gloves. And underneath a small note.

     “To my Vandal- With Love. I knew you would come. Merry Christmas.”

     Janaica looked up. There was a tear in her eye. Soft, white snowflakes were falling from the sky. She turned around and set off towards her home carrying the box in her hands.