Collision Part 2
The Past
Chapter 1
December 18, 1981
The snow was lightly falling as Dan Mangan trudged home on the last day of school before Christmas break. He carried his book bag over his left shoulder, and had both hands deep in the pockets of his down jacket. His dark head was bare, and his breath steamed as he moved around the other pedestrians. New York City rule number one: Be alert. Rule number two: Never make eye contact. He hung a left, and moved down a less crowded street toward the brownstone apartment where he and his mother had lived for the last nine months.
Ducking around the plastic reindeer which guarded the steps leading to the front door, Dan entered the back yard and retrieved his door key from the chain around his neck. Letting himself in through the back entrance, he wiped his feet and hung his bag and jacket on the hallway hooks before entering the apartment.
He could hear his mother’s sweet voice singing,
“The holly green, the ivy green
The prettiest picture you've ever seen
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home"
“Mom,” he called. “I’m home.”
“In here, Danny.” The answering voice came from the living area. Dan entered and saw his mother sitting in her wheelchair. Her long red hair was braided in a single plait and hung over her shoulder. She was wearing a dark green velour robe, and her bright blue-green eyes lit up as he walked in the room.
He knelt at her side and kissed her cheek. “You look pretty today,” he said. “I like this robe.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She smiled. “I’m rather fond of it myself. How was school?”
“Dull.” Dan shrugged and gave his mother a lopsided grin. “But at least there wasn’t any homework. Now I have two whole weeks of freedom.”
“Do we still have a date for Boxing Day?” Saraid Mangan ran a frail hand through her son’s thick hair.
“Skating at Rockefeller Center.” Dan leaned his head against her knee. “I’m up for it, but only if it’s not too much for you.”
Saraid smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be skating this year, but I’m up to sitting all bundled in my chair and watching you skate. Kelly has agreed to come along as my nurse, and I was thinking that maybe we could invite our new neighbor.”
“Kelly’s fine,” Dan said. “Shirley’s the one I don’t like.” His mother’s words registered and he asked, “We have a new neighbor?”
“Upstairs,” Saraid confirmed. “Mrs. Kawolski has a new foster child; a girl, about your age. Tina, Theresa, something like that. Poor child lost her mother a few days ago. I’d like to do something to make her feel ... welcome.”
“Does she know how to skate?” Dan asked.
“I really don’t know,” his mother answered. “I only met her briefly. She was polite, but very quiet. Then Archie came caterwauling by and Mrs. K took the child back upstairs.” Saraid scowled in distaste at the memory of her landlady’s loudmouthed son. Dan mirrored her disdain with his own scowl.
“I don’t know how someone as nice as Mrs. K can have such a creep for a son,” Dan stated.
“I agree.” Saraid stifled a yawn. “I’m getting tired, Danny, my boy. Shirley the Hun should be here any minute. Would you mind helping me into bed?”
“Sure, Mum.” Dan pushed the chair into his mother’s bedroom, and helped her into the hospital bed. Arranging the blankets so she was tucked in securely, he said, “I wish we could get rid of Shirley. The other nurses have been great, but she ... she really creeps me out. Half the time she’s late, and she always looks at me kind of funny.”
“I’ve noticed,” Saraid sighed. “I have spoken to the service, but right now she’s the only one available for the 4 to 12 shift. They’ve promised to replace her as soon as someone else is available.” She squeezed Dan’s hand. “Now why don’t you go up and meet the new neighbor while I have a nap.”
Dan squeezed back, and tenderly kissed his mother’s cheek. It was hard to see her so weak. It hurt to watch her dying, wondering what he would do after she was gone. He felt tears well up in his eyes, and turned away before she noticed. He left her to her nap.
Dan took the back stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs he turned to the right, passed through the arch and into Mrs. Kawolski’s painfully bright yellow dining room. Following his nose, he sniffed his way into the kitchen. Sure enough, a tray of peanut butter cookies sat cooling on the stove. He contemplated snitching one, but good manners won out over hunger.
“Mrs. K?” he called. “Mrs. K!”
Paula Kawolski poked her dyed red head into the kitchen. “Danny!” she exclaimed. “Grab yourself a snack and come meet Tessa.”
Dan followed her instructions, helping himself to two cookies and a glass of milk before taking himself into what Mrs. K called the “lounge”. It had once been the sitting room, long ago before the brownstone had been broken into three apartments. Now it served as the central, communal living space. The television, stereo, desk and comfortable furniture situated near a cozy fireplace made an inviting area shared by the owner and her tenants.
Currently, a girl with long sun-streaked brown braids occupied Dan’s favorite overstuffed chair. She was curled up in the chair, a cookie in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other. She looked at Dan cautiously. Not afraid, exactly; more as if she were uncertain. Dan suddenly felt an overwhelming need to reassure this unknown girl. It took him by surprise, and he smiled and moved toward her.
Mrs. Kawolski hastened over to introduce them. “Dan, this is my new foster daughter, Tessa Hart. Tessa, this is Dan. He and his mother live downstairs.” She bustled toward the kitchen. “You two get acquainted while I start supper.”
The girl, Tessa, set down her cup and cookie and rose from the chair, extending her hand and asking, “The pretty lady downstairs is your mother?”
“Yes.” Dan shifted his snack and took the hand gently. She had a strong grip for someone who appeared so fragile. “I guess that makes us neighbors.”
“Have you lived here long?” Tessa let go his hand and sat down in the chair.
Dan sat down on the ottoman. “About nine months. Before that we lived for a couple of years in what my mom calls a ‘less desirable neighborhood’. Before that we lived in base housing.”
“Base housing?”
“Yeah. My dad was a soldier.” Dan smiled a little. “We lived in Texas, California and Germany, too. But we lived here in New York from the time I was nine.”
“Where is your dad now?” Tessa asked.
Dan’s smile faded. “In a cemetery in New Jersey.” He explained, “He was killed while on assignment in Korea almost three years ago. Car blew up.”
“Oh.” Tessa fell silent. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I know from experience how little that helps.” She looked at her empty teacup.
“Yeah. Mom said your mother died recently.”
“Nine days ago.” Tess lifted her eyes to his. They were an odd mix of golden brown and streaky green. “My family seems to have bad luck with cars. My dad, grandma and older brother were killed last summer in a car accident, and my Mom got run over by a taxicab. Nine days ago.” Tears glinted, but did not fall.
It was Dan’s turn to be at a loss for words. He stared at her face, struggling for something to say, and then blurted, “Do you know how to ice skate?”
Startled by the sudden change of subject, Tessa laughed. “Not really,” she said. “I live in Hawaii, and we don’t skate on ice a whole lot. I know how to roller skate, roller blade and surf though. Why?”
Dan blushed. “Mom and I go every year to the rink at Rockefeller Center. We used to go as a family, the day after Christmas. Boxing Day, Mom calls it. It is our family tradition. We kept doing it even after... after Dad died. We thought maybe you’d like to come with us this year.”
“Are you sure you want me to?” Tessa asked. “I mean, you and your mom seem really nice and all, but we just met. Do you really want a stranger butting in on your tradition?”
“Yes.” Dan was a bit surprised at how forcefully the word came forth. “Look,” he said. “This will probably be the last time Mom and I do this. It would be nice to have someone along to...” he paused, searching for the words, “...someone who could help me remember.”
“Your mother is very sick, isn’t she?” Tessa’s voice was quiet.
“She’s dying.” Dan said the words with little emotion. He had practiced in front of the bathroom mirror for days before he could say the words without wanting to scream with rage and pain. “She only has a few weeks left.”
Tessa reached out and touched his hand. “That must be hard for you, knowing and not being able to change anything.”
Dan felt hot tears flash behind his eyelids. His carefully controlled emotions roiled behind the wall he had built -- a wall this girl he’d barely met had managed to breach with a touch and a few words of honest understanding. He averted his gaze and blinked hard.
“Yeah.” His voice felt raspy. He took a deep breath and continued, “Yeah. It’s tough, but at least this time I have the chance to say goodbye.”
This time it was the girl’s eyes that filled. Dan noticed the tears spilling down her cheeks, and panicked. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t cry. Whatever I said, I’m sorry!”
“You didn’t say anything wrong.” Tessa wiped at her face. “What you said was right. It would have been nice to say goodbye. I didn’t get the chance. Not once.”
“That’s tough.” Dan patted the hand that was still atop his. They sat there, touching but not speaking for several minutes. Finally, Dan broke the silence. “So, do you want to come skating with Mom and me?”
“I’d like that very much.” Tessa squeezed his hand and removed her own. “If you are sure I won’t be intruding, and if my uncle hasn’t come for me yet.”
“Your uncle?” Dan asked.
“Yes. My Uncle Andy. He’s my mom’s younger brother. I only met him a month ago, but he’s my only known relative. I mean, he’s the only one I know. The problem is, no one seems to know where he is right now. The last time I saw him was Thanksgiving weekend. In Chicago.”
“I know what you mean.” Dan leaned toward her. “This is so weird. I only have one relative left. My mom’s little brother, my Uncle Liam. The problem is, she hasn’t seen him in twelve years.”
“Twelve years is a long time.” Tessa grinned. “It sounds like quite a story.”
Dan couldn’t help but return her grin. “I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. I’d love to hear about Hawaii, and how you got all the way to New York.”
Tessa held out her hand again. “It’s a deal. But you go first.”
Dan shook her hand and said, “Deal. You see, my Mom lost her parents when she was thirteen. She and her two brothers -- her older brother, Denny, was fifteen, and Liam, the baby was almost four -- went to this Catholic Children’s Home...”
Chapter 2
Tess and Dan became fast friends. Kindred spirits were they; children forced to assume adult qualities at too early an age. In one another they found comfort and strength. Tessa could tell Dan about her family, her home, and her discomfort with the unfamiliarity of New York in the winter. Dan found in Tessa a sounding board. To her, he could talk about the mistakes he had made. He told her how bad he’d felt after his mother picked him up at the police station when he was arrested for joy riding. How at that moment, he had vowed not to make her cry with disappointment ever again, and about his mother’s illness and impending death. Tessa did not judge his past, and she understood, as none of his so-called friends did, his fear of being left alone. After all, she was already experiencing it.
Three days before Christmas, Saraid Mangan woke up with her mind set on a mission. She had watched her son opening up to the little girl upstairs. Dan smiled more now, seemed less guarded. Saraid knew well the fate of foster children at Christmastime. The agency would send clothes. A charity or two might send a book or a toy. For the most part, the child would go unnoticed outside of the foster family. Tessa would have more. Saraid was determined.
Dan dutifully pushed his mother through Bloomingdale’s, grinning as she directed Nurse Kelly to hand her this or that along her way. They had spent two hours shopping for Tessa. Normally, it would have been torture, but Dan hadn’t seen his mother so animated in a very long time. Anything pink, lacy or flowered had been carefully inspected. A substantial pile of sweaters, blouses and shoes waited behind the counter, and Saraid was currently checking out makeup mirrors and blush brushes.
“What was the scent Tessa likes so much, Danny?”
“Jasmine,” Dan told her, reaching for a bottle of jasmine scented body spray. She says it reminds her of home.”
“Get two of them, then.” Dan complied, adding the bottles to the pile.
“Now for some lingerie,” Saraid said.
Dan stopped short. “Mum,” he said in a horrified whisper. “I can’t go in there!”
Saraid laughed. “No. I don’t suppose you should.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of bills. “Here,” she said. “You go find something you think she’ll like from you. Meet Kelly and me here in about forty minutes.”
“Thanks Mum.” Dan took the money, a little surprised at the amount, and kissed his mother’s cheek. Tucking the cash into his front pocket he quickly made his escape from the rows of silky scanties.
Dan wandered out of the store and down the street. Christmas in New York City, especially with money in his pocket, was complete sensory overload. Vendors and store windows beckoned from every direction. Suddenly, Dan felt sad. Flattening himself against a building, out of the crowd, he thought back to Christmas past. There hadn’t been a lot of money, but he had been part of a family, a whole and healthy family, full of laughter and love. Now there was money and love, but the healthy family was fast disappearing. For the second time in less than a week, Dan felt tears stinging his eyes. He blinked hard and sucked in a lung full of cold air. He wasn’t completely alone yet. Tessa was. He still had a mother, and she wanted to make this Christmas special for him, and for Tess. The least he could do was help.
Emotions under control, Dan ducked into a small storefront. The air was thick with incense, the crowded counters loaded with funky and unusual items. Some of them were vintage, like the Etch-a-Sketch leaning up against a plastic cactus shaped like a ... Dan looked closer, and blushed. The cactus was tagged “Frisky Fred”, and supposedly he vibrated. Turning away quickly, Dan’s attention was drawn to an item tagged Genuine Lava Lamp. Red wax floated lazily in clear liquid, lit from below. Dan picked it up, surprised at the weight. It was a quirky piece and it made him smile. Setting it down, he wandered to a display of woven blankets. One of them depicted a beach scene, complete with palm trees and coconuts. The browns and greens of the weaving reminded Dan of the old maps that hung on the walls of their quarters in California. Tessa was always cold. Maybe a blanket would be a better gift. Chewing on his lower lip, Dan tried to decide.
Chapter 3
Saraid had tried hard to make this Christmas -- her last Christmas on earth -- memorable for her son. She succeeded beyond even her wildest dreams. Dan knew that for all his life he would remember this Christmas.
The apartment was cluttered with every decoration ever collected by the Mangan family. The tree, while not overly large, was hung with tinsel and bubble lights. Ornaments made from framed photos chronicling Dan’s Christmases hung from the branches, as did every ornament he had ever made. Saraid was most fond of the reindeer made from a candy cane and pipe cleaners. Dan laughed at the single googley eye dangling from the silly thing, but he enjoyed recounting memories with his mother as they decorated the tree.
“I remember this outfit,” Saraid said softly, holding out a picture of Tim Mangan holding Dan, who was wearing a red velvet Santa suit. “We had just moved to Germany. It was your very first Christmas. You were only ten months old, and already a little charmer like your daddy. All the ladies on base just loved to pinch your cheeks.”
“Well, they certainly were big enough,” Dan said. “Man, I was a fat baby.”
“You were adorably chubby,” his mother corrected, holding out another photo. “Here you are with Dad the following Christmas. You loved the snow.”
Dan took the picture. He was wearing a blue snowsuit and clinging tightly to his father’s hand. Tim Mangan was smiling down at his son, whose tongue was sticking out, catching snowflakes. Behind them was a blurry red neon sign. Dan handed the photo back to his mother and asked, “What does that sign say?”
Saraid looked, and then laughed. “Santa kommt aber einmal pro Jahr,” she said. “It means Santa comes but once a year. I remember that the Santa Claus face on the sign kept flashing and ruining my shot.”
The memories continued each evening as Dan curled up at his mother’s feet and they reminisced. Saraid hoped that the memories they created during this last Christmas would sustain her son throughout his life.
Christmas morning dawned cold and clear. Dan awoke late to the smells of soda bread and sausage. Stumbling from his bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of his mother, dressed in a cheery green and white sweater and long red skirt, instructing her nurse Maryam in the art of soft cooked eggs.
After a tasty Irish breakfast of eggs, sausage, soda bread and tea, the upstairs neighbors joined Saraid and Dan. Tessa and Mrs. K arrived bearing Christmas cookies and spiced cider. Archie, to Dan’s great relief, had developed a bad cold and stayed in his own apartment.
Wheeling Saraid into the living room, both Dan and Tess gasped at the sight of the tree, fully lit and overflowing with gifts and treats. Dan leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “You were busy,” he whispered.
“I wanted you to have happy things to remember. Your friend as well,” she whispered back. “Now light the candles and we’ll get to the fun.” He smiled at her with love in his eyes and did as she asked. The room filled with the scents of cinnamon and spice.
Saraid presided over the distribution of the gifts, her sallow cheeks flushed with excitement. As each carefully chosen gift was opened, she seemed to gather energy from the recipient’s pleasure. Tessa’s surprise and delight at each article of clothing brought a giggle to Saraid’s lips, and the look in her Danny’s eyes as he opened an entire set of Encyclopedia Americana, a new clock radio and the complete collection of leather bound Cosmo McNaught books brought tears of joy to her eyes.
Dan waited patiently as Mrs. K opened the basket of bath salts and body lotions he had selected for her. Tessa was holding the gifts he had selected, peeling the wrapping back slowly. As she pulled the blanket out of its paper she rubbed it against her cheek. “It’s beautiful!” she said. “It’s so soft and warm, and the pictures are of home.”
“I know how cold you get,” Dan told her. “I thought that might help. Look underneath it.”
“There’s more? I thought it was awfully heavy for a blanket.” Tessa’s eyes opened wide as she pulled the lava lamp from the bottom of the box. “I love it!” she exclaimed. “My daddy had one just like this when he was in college. Thank you, Danny.”
Dan blushed. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.
“Here.” Tess held out a small, gaily wrapped package to Dan, and another to Saraid. “I didn’t have any money, but Mrs. K let me raid her craft closet.”
Dan unwrapped a scarf, knitted from very soft black and red yarn. “Wow!” he exclaimed, wrapping it around his neck. “You made this?” Tess nodded.
“And these?” Saraid had unwrapped a pair of crocheted bed socks in shades of green and gold. “These are lovely. Thank you.”
“I guess I get so cold here, I could only think about keeping everybody else warm,” Tessa joked. “I’m glad you like them.”
After all the packages had been opened and the remnants of wrappings cleaned up, Saraid asked Maryam to wheel her into her room for a nap. Dan followed to kiss her before she slept. He knew that the morning activity had drained her scant reserves of energy. Then he went upstairs with Tessa to play board games and watch Frosty the Snowman on Mrs. K’s new VCR.
When Dan returned home after a Christmas dinner with Mrs. K, Tessa, and a wheezing, sniffling Archie, his mother was waiting for him in front of the fireplace.
“How was dinner?” she asked quietly.
“The turkey was dry, the stuffing was wet, and Archie sneezed on the pecan pie. Other than that, it was excellent.”
“Did you remember your manners?”
“Yes ma’am,” Dan quipped. “I cleaned my plate, used my napkin, chewed with my mouth closed, and complimented my hostess. Just like my Mama taught me.”
“That’s my good boy,” Saraid said. “Manners will take you farther in life than either good looks or money.”
Dan knelt in front of her chair. “I have something for you,” he said. “I didn’t want to give it to you until it was quieter.” He handed her a box, wrapped in pale silver tissue paper. “I made it for you.”
Saraid opened the package and gasped, tears filling her eyes as she pulled the rosary from the box. Made up of amethyst glass and rosewood beads, a beautifully carved Celtic cross hung from the center. Saraid clasped it in her hands and whispered, “It’s lovely. I love the beads. Amethyst is your birthstone.”
“I know. I wanted you to have something of me to... take with you,” Dan said nervously. “Father Paul helped me find the beads, and he showed me how to get the carving right on the cross. I hope... I hope you like it.”
“I love it, and I love you too, my Danny.” She leaned forward and hugged him close to her. Sitting upright she said, “I have something for you as well. It is in the closet.”
Dan retrieved a plain white box from the closet. Opening it, he pulled out a familiar looking black leather jacket. “Dad’s jacket,” he said.
“Your father was wearing this jacket when we met,” Saraid told him. “I had it cleaned for you. I know it is a little big, but I thought you might want it... and this,” she reached in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a silver locket on a long chain. “Your father gave this to me when you were born. Open it.”
Dan flicked open the oval and saw two pictures. The one on the left side was of himself and his parents when he was only a few weeks old. On the right, the last family picture they had had taken, just before his father had shipped out for the last time. Tears welled in his eyes.
“I wanted you to remember that no matter what, your father and I love you and are always with you.” Saraid wiped Dan’s tears with her fingertips. “We are a part of you, and you a part of us, in this life and in the next. Always remember, mé toil cion thú go ceann tráth.” She cradled her son’s head on her lap and began to sing softly to him, of lullabies and leprechauns.
Author Notes
Thanks, as always to my dear editors, Vivian and Dianafan (MaryN)! Thank you for keeping me honest and on track.
A few little things. Vivian was worried that Saraid was squandering money that she should be saving for Dan. Lest anyone think that Saraid was being irresponsible (which I can totally see), let me assure you that she was not. It will be explained later, I promise. (Much later, but later, indeed)
Depending on which Book #8 you read, Tim Mangan either died in a car accident, or in Korea. I decided he died in a car accident, in Korea. That is my story, and I am sticking to it.
The Past will be on hiatus during the month of March. It will be back sometime during the first week in April. I tried very hard to not leave a cliffhanger. I hope you generous readers will find this to be so.
Part 2 of Collision Course (aka The Past part I) is a CWP #9 (2003 Holiday) It was actually the story I first wrote when I was thinking about trying to be a Jix Author. Then I decided to hold it back until the right time. Thank heavens I finally got to the "right time" In red are my use of the required elements:
This story should take place, at least in part, during ANY holiday from January 1 through December 31 and include the following elements:
• A non-traditional holiday song (Christmas in Kilarney)
• An ornament or decoration made by a character in elementary school (Dan’s Candy cane reindeer)
• A cold (Archie has one)
• A holiday drink (Mrs. K brought Spiced Cider)
• A baby in a Santa Suit (Dan)
• A holiday TV show or movie (This can be a quote, a title or a mention of the program) (Frosty the Snowman)
• A reindeer, plastic or real (Plastic, outside the house)
• Creative use of a candy cane (The reindeer)
• A holiday scented candle (Dan lit them on Christmas Day)
• A flashing Santa saying "Santa comes but once a year."
(The sign in Germany)
• A carryover item from a previous CWP or a carryover item from EACH of the previous CWPs.
#8 Porno cacti (Frisky Fred)
#7 Etch-a-Sketch (Leaning up against Frisky Fred)
#6 The word "frisky" used in any context (Frisky Fred)
#5 *Pecan Pie (Archie sneezed on it)
#4 People putting up decorations (Dan and Saraid)
#3 A vibrator (Frisky Fred)
#2 A makeup mirror (At Bloomingdales)
#1 A bright yellow room (Mrs. K’s dining room)
*****
