Icy Sparks (19 page)

“Did you say wise guy or wise man?” Delbert asked over his shoulder.

“We're having our first rehearsal tomorrow,” Maizy chimed in. “Be there!”

“I
hear Dr. Lambert's a tough critic,” Delbert said as he put his hands on my shoulders and positioned me before an imaginary Virgin Mary.

“Where's Wilma?” I asked. “Ain't she gonna rehearse with us, or is she counting on God to inspire her?”

“Icy!” I glanced over my shoulder. Maizy was frowning. “What's your problem? Poor Wilma can't seem to keep anything down. She's not feeling well, that's all.”

“Well, she best start,” I said matter-of-factly. “Now that she's eating for two.”

Maizy flinched. “How did you find out?” she asked.

“I've heard all of you whispering.”

“Ain't it amazing!” Delbert said, shaking his head.

I rolled back my eyes. “It's weird,” I said, rolling them again. “I didn't know the ole dirt dauber was married. She ain't nothing but a wasp with a sting. And she's got that nasty mustache kinda looks like a clump of dirt smeared clear across her face.”

Running his finger above his lip, Delbert grinned.

Maizy made a scene of stomping her foot. Then she tossed back her head and giggled. “Icy Sparks, without a doubt, the Christmas Spirit has passed you over.”

“How come you're always getting on me?” I pouted.

“Why do you think?” she asked.

“'Cause I say out loud what you might be thinking,” I said.

“Sometimes it's best to keep your thoughts to yourself,” Maizy replied.

“That don't cut no ice with me,” I argued.

“Well, it should,” she objected. “Your life would be easier if it did.”

“Well—” I began.

But Tiny intervened. Winking at me, he slapped Delbert's back. “We best get to work,” he said.

I was getting into my role, transforming myself into a wise old sage, when, ashen-faced and wobbly, Wilma appeared.

“Howdy,” Delbert and Tiny said.

“You don't look so good,” said Maizy in a concerned voice.

Wilma smiled weakly. “I want to go over my lines,” she said. “Just once, to make sure I know what to do.”

I attempted to smile back.

“Well,” Maizy said, cradling her arms. “It's not too much to remember. When the play begins, you'll be carrying a life-sized doll.” She looked at Wilma. “Just like this,” she said, rocking her arms. “When the three wise men come up, all you have to do is hold out your arms. ‘This is the baby Jesus,' you say. Right after the word
Jesus,
Icy, Tiny, and Gordie—”

Tiny interrupted, “I do the talkin' for Gordie.”

“Right.” Maizy nodded. “Then, they say their lines and end with ‘We Three Kings.' Last, you put baby Jesus in His manger and sing ‘Silent Night' with the rest of us.”

Wilma put her hands on her stomach. “That's easy enough,” she said.

I glanced over at Maizy, took one step forward, and in a loud voice said, “I'm the wise man bringing frankincense.”

“And I'll be singing ‘Silent Night,' too,” Maizy said.

“Dressed in a long white robe,” Delbert tossed in.

“Holding up a stick with a big silver star on top,” Maizy said.

“The eastern star,” I added proudly.

Wilma turned away from me. “What's your role?” she asked Tiny.

“I'm the wise man with the gold,” he said. “Plus I gotta watch out for Gordie. He's got the myrrh.”

“And I'm the wise man with the frankincense,” I stressed again.

“And what about you?” Wilma asked Delbert.

“I'm the peacekeeper,” he said. “I make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“Good,” Wilma said, gently rubbing her stomach, trying on sweetness for the moment.

T
he Sunshine Building buzzed. A joyful energy whipped through me, and I decided that if the Christmas spirit had been passing me over, it wasn't passing me over today. Even my fingertips tingled with possibility. Maizy and Delbert had hung an evergreen branch, sporting a big red ribbon, above the door to the dayroom. A white linen tablecloth covered the dining room table, and three red candles in glass lanterns were strategically placed along its top. To the left of the bookcase by the door, a spruce fir was decorated with lights, tinsel, and about two dozen red and gold ornaments. The sofas had been moved out and stored away so that Delbert and Tiny could transform the empty space into a stage. Hay, from Tiny's parents' farm in Winchester, was scattered across the floor, and the manger, an old antique flour bin which belonged to Tiny's aunt, stood in the center of the hay. On one side of the manger, cardboard cutouts of farm animals, which Ace had painted, were propped up.

At five in the afternoon, Maizy grabbed my hand. “Come on,” she ordered. “It's makeup time. I'm gonna make you look nice.”

“But I ain't supposed to look nice.”

“Authentic, then,” she said.

“Did you bring the yarn, the robe, everything?”

“Everything,” she said, pulling me along, through the door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. On the floor next to the sink was a brown paper bag which she put on the seat of an old metal chair pushed against the wall. Next she stuck her arm deep into the bag, jostled her hand around, and, with a flourish, pulled out the red satin robe.

“Maizy, we're wasting time,” I whined. “Remember, Delbert showed me my costume?”

She draped the robe over the back of the chair and stuck her hand in again. This time, she brought forth the golden, cone-shaped crown. “It's magic,” she said, holding the crown high above her head.

“Maizy, I've already seen it.” Impatiently, I tapped my left foot against the floor.

Unhurriedly, Maizy set the crown on the metal shelf above the sink and, before I could utter another word, dug her arm even farther into the bag. “Now, what do you think I've found?” she asked.

Nervously, I picked at my cuticles. “I don't know,” I said, peevishly, “but—”

She cut me off. “Abracadabra!” she squealed. Out came two crimson velvet slippers, the toes of which curled up. “Abracadabra!” she squealed again. Up rose a mass of black curly hair. “Royal slippers and a real, honest-to-goodness beard,” she exclaimed.

“Dag nab!” I said. “It's a miracle!”

O
utside, three inches of snow covered the earth. Tiny was inside, helping Gordie put on his costume; so I stood by myself in the cold, thirty-degree weather and waited for my cue.

For two days, I'd been rehearsing in front of my floor-length bathroom mirror. Because I wanted to know exactly what frankincense was, I'd looked it up in the dictionary. “Aromatic gum resin,” it said. I didn't just want to play a wise man; I wanted to be a wise man. When I walked upon the stage, I wanted everyone to smell the frankincense in the palm of my hand; and, when I sang “We Three Kings” with the others, I wanted my voice—alone—to be heard.

Jittery, I cracked the knuckles on my left hand, then on my right. I tugged at my beard and grabbed the lapels of my coat. The minute Delbert showed his head, I was ready to remove my coat and toss it into the box beside the door. I swallowed five mouthfuls of air, drew a circle in the snow with my red velvet slipper, and tried to get into character. “I'm a wise man from the Far East,” I whispered. “I'm a king of the Orient looking for the baby Jesus.” Edging my hand against my eyebrow, I pretended to be searching. “I have a gift for Him.” Like a flower blossoming, I unfolded my fingers. “Frankincense,” I said under my breath, “for the newborn—” Someone grunted loudly behind me. Abruptly, I turned around.

“Slow down, Gordie!” Tiny said, pulling on the boy's arm. “They ain't ready for us yet.”

“Land sakes!” I exclaimed. “I'm glad you're here!” My teeth chattered. “I've been rehearsing, getting nervous, thinking Delbert would poke out his head and you and Gordie wouldn't be here, and I'd have to do all three parts myself.” My toes tingled and burned. “I mean, my knees are knocking. And not just from the cold.” I stomped each foot into the snow. “From fear. Plain old stage fright.” I wrapped my arms around myself and hopped up and down. “Yessir, I was about to get wilder than a March hare in mating season.”

Tiny, still holding on to Gordie's arm, put his free index finger to his lips. “Calm down, Icy!” he said. “You're making Gordie nervous.”

My stomach grumbled. My feet felt numb. My hands shook. “You think Delbert forgot about us?” I asked.

“I doubt it,” Tiny said. “Any minute now, he'll poke his head out, and when he does, you best be ready to go.”

I rubbed my hands together. “I'm ready,” I said, wiggling my toes. I rolled back my shoulders, swallowed a mouthful of frost, and declared, “I'm as—”

“Ready!” Delbert said, his head flashing through the door.

This is it, I told myself, tossing my coat in the box. Tiny, with his arm laced through Gordie's, followed close behind. “You're a king of the Orient,” I said.

Inside, “We Three Kings” was playing softly. Arranged in a semicircle, the chairs in the dayroom were filled. Dr. Conroy, Dr. Lambert from Hickory Hall, and Dr. Parker, a guest from out of town, sat in the first row. Several kitchen staff members, who prepared our food in Hickory Hall, along with the driver of the van, occupied the remaining seats. Over the manger, Maizy held up the big silver star. Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light, I thought, my heart pounding, my thawed feet gliding across the stage to stop in front of the manger.

Gracefully, Wilma extended her arms. “This is the baby Jesus,” she said, on cue.

For the first time, it seemed, I saw her face. It was Wilma's face, all right, but somehow it had changed. In robes with a shawl over her head, her features were gleaming. Gone were her glasses. Gone was her mustache. Gone was her dead white skin. She had miraculously become the Virgin Mary, radiating only a mother's love.

Scrunching up my face, I transformed myself also. Sweeping forward, I was but one earthly king bowing before the King of Kings. “We, three kings of the Orient, have brought gifts to the Christ Child,” I said, rising. “Mine is the gift of frankincense!” I proclaimed.

Magnanimously, I held out my closed hand. My fingers uncurled, and a silver packet sparkled in my palm.

In robes the color of jade, Tiny, too, stretched out his hand. A bright gold nugget shimmered against his skin. “See! I've brought gold!” he said in a deep voice.

Then Gordie, wearing royal blue, stiffly extended his arm. “Myrrh!” Tiny said for him. “The sweetest smell on earth.”

In that instant, Delbert, who was in charge of the music, bowed slightly, and the measured, heavy tones of “We Three Kings” filled the air. Staring earnestly at the crowd, Tiny and I started to sing. But as we harmonized, something happened to my voice. Wondrously, it began to change. All of a sudden, it was rich and melodious, deep and hypnotic like the notes we were singing. The audience was spellbound. Not a peep could be heard.

When Delbert opened the double doors, the trance was finally broken. Then, to the strains of “Silent Night,” the other patients filed in, forming a semicircle around us.

Delicately, the Virgin Mary placed baby Jesus in His manger.

Gracefully, Maizy waved the silver star, sprinkling glitter across the stage.

Glancing around the room, I spotted the faces of the others. Ace, Reid, Rose, Stevie, Ruthie, Mary, and Deirdre. All of them were staring back at me, saying, “Icy, you're the star. You're the star with royal beauty bright. Go ahead, Icy. Sing.” And I, taking their cue, with arms outstretched, like Moses walking through the Red Sea, stepped magnificently forward. Breathing in deeply, I felt my lungs expand with loving, hot air; I felt my voice eager to take off and soar through the room. I inhaled again, readied my lips, and was about to begin “Silent Night” when my eyes fixated on Wilma.

Once the pious Virgin Mary, she now had changed. Her features were sharp and seething; her body was oozing hatred. So completely dark was her evil that like a magnet she drew me to her. Her intense eyes mesmerized me, and I was straitjacketed by her stare. Desperately, I tried to close my eyelids, but both were locked open. Next, I tried to step back, away from her, away from her eyes, but try as I might, I couldn't move. Some force held me in place. Trembling, I struggled to break free; but, like before, I stood frozen.

Frantic, I glanced down.

Wilma's battleship foot was anchored squarely on my red satin robe. Fury poured out of that foot. Rage flooded from that shoe. I winced, tugged at my robe, and attempted, once more, to go backward. But Wilma wouldn't let me. Leering at me, she bent over. Then, ever so swiftly, as though she were smoothing out a wrinkle in my robe, her fingers locked into my beard and savagely yanked it. Like an avalanche, the black mass slid downward only to dangle precipitously from my chin.