Madhu didn’t want to trivialize Christmas through his persistent questioning. Nor did he want to contend with our beliefs. Rather, he genuinely wanted to know why Christmas was so important to us and how Santa fits into the picture, given that the stated cause for the celebration was the birth of Jesus Christ.
As the two older boys sat analyzing what the other had said, it dawned on me that there was, perhaps, a potential connection between the modern-day Santa and baby Jesus.
“Hey, I got it!” I shouted.
“Got what?” asked Madhu.
“I think I know why Santa is part of Christmas and why he gives gifts. Maybe he was a wise guy!”
“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked.
“You know, the three wise guys! He was probably one of them that brought Jesus gifts when he was born.”
“Those were the wise
men
,” Aaron snorted. “They followed the star from the east to Bethlehem. Why would he be one of them?”
“I was just thinking that maybe after bringing baby Jesus a special gift, he decided to keep giving gifts to children every year as a way for us all to remember.”
“Well, I’m not very familiar with the story,” said Madhu thoughtfully. He was rubbing his chin with his index finger as he stared at me. “But if what you say is true, it would make more sense than anything else I’ve heard tonight about Santa Claus.” He winked and smiled at Aaron.
“Well, if you think his idea is so interesting, you should join the Christmas pageant with us.” Aaron sounded only slightly miffed that Madhu favored my explanation of Santa Claus more than his own. “I bet they’d let you be one of the wise men, and that way you could learn all you want about them.”
“Yes, most definitely! That is a wonderful suggestion Aaron. I would very much like to learn about the men from the east who were wise.”
That settled it. Madhu would join us in the pageant.
The only other mention of Christmas during our time with him that night was when we asked him about his Christmas list. To our surprise, he’d already ripped up the infamous red paper and thrown it away in the garbage, claiming that the thing he wanted most in the world was not within Santa Claus’s power to give. He also said that even if Santa
could
give him what he wanted, he probably wouldn’t because Madhu is not Christian. I didn’t think that was right but didn’t press the matter.
When it came time to end our visit with Madhu, I secretly wished we could stay there and listen to him chatter away just a little bit longer, partly because I was dreading our final stop of the evening. I knew from experience that Katrina was nothing like Madhu. Whereas he had been happy, she would be sad. Where he found the positive, she positively would not.
“Hello,” I said quietly as I knocked on Katrina’s door, half hoping I wouldn’t be heard. “Katrina, it’s Molar, the elf from the other night. Are you in there?”
“Don’t come in!” she shouted loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “I don’t want visitors!”
“Wow,” said Aaron under his breath. “She’s got some serious lungs. At least we know she’s here.”
“I can
hear
you, you know! And of course I’m here. Where else would I be? I’m not dead yet!”
This was already starting off worse than I’d feared. “Dr. Ringle lied,” I whispered softly back to my brother. “He said this would go fine. She doesn’t seem too . . .”
“Hey! I can still hear you! If you’re going to talk about me, at least do it to my face, you no good, clumsy servant of Santa!”
We stood there for a few awkward moments, not sure whether to run and hide or just keep trying. Were it not for a promise made to Dr. Ringle that I would retrieve her Christmas list, I probably would have turned and walked back to Madhu’s room right then and forgotten all about Miss Katrina Barlow. But a promise is a promise.
“Uh, okay,” I ventured. “Is that an invitation to come in?”
“What?” she retorted sharply.
“You said to come say it to your face. Can we . . . ummm . . . come in and talk to you then?”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant you should just be quiet.”
“I know,” I admitted. “But can we come in anyway? My brother is here with me this time, and we really want to talk to you.”
It was silent for a few minutes. Then we head some soft ruffling noises followed by some shuffling and squeaks. I knew from my first visit that those noises were a good sign that she was getting ready for us, but I didn’t dare tell Aaron, lest she hear me and change her mind. After another minute or two of silence, she finally spoke again, this time in a much nicer tone.
“Okay. You may come in—but only for a minute.”
Because I’d already met Katrina before, if only long enough to make her cry, Aaron insisted that I lead the way into the room. With every ounce of caution I possessed, I carefully pulled the extra-large candy cane from the inside pocket of my coat and held it high in front of me, like a torch lighting my way. Then I gently pressed the door open and inched forward.
“I’ve uh . . . I’ve brought you something, Katrina,” I said as my hand crossed the threshold, each finger holding tightly to the red and white striped peace offering I carried. “It’s bigger than the other candy . . .” My words cut off mid-sentence and my feet froze in place as I looked up and saw Katrina standing where she had the last time, against the opposite wall. Gone were the red pajamas wrapped in toilet paper, but she was still wearing the white paper bag over her head. I swallowed hard. “Katrina, is that a . . . another costume?”
“You mean the bag? No, you dope!” she fired. “It wasn’t part of my candy cane costume either!”
“Then why are you wearing it?” asked Aaron as he stepped to my side.
“Are you serious? I guess my grandpa was right. He always used to say, ‘There’s no such thing as a dumb question, only dumb people.’ How about you take a guess, Mr. Genius?” Much to my relief, she was looking at Aaron. “Why do you suppose I have a bag on my head?”
I couldn’t see the expression on her face because the bag covered it up, but her tone made it clear that this was a touchy subject.
“Umm . . . ,” Aaron muttered, “maybe because your hair was messed up and you couldn’t find a hat to cover it?”
“Wrong-o! How about you, Candy Man?” Now she was glaring at me.
I lowered the candy cane as I weighed what I might say, but there were no good options. I knew full well that whatever I said would be wrong.
“You . . . you probably have some bandages you don’t want us to see until they heal. Right?”
“Wrong again! You want to know why I have a bag on my head?”
It was a rhetorical question that required no formal response, but we both nodded our heads anyway while Katrina took a long pause. I could see through the eye holes in the bag that she was no longer looking at us but was staring down at the ground. She let out a big sigh, perhaps to release some anger before she exploded.
“It’s,” she started again as her shoulders slumped forward. Her voice was barely audible. “It’s because I’m ugly. I wasn’t ugly before the cancer and all the treatments and stuff, you know. Now nobody would want to look at me without the bag. I don’t even like to look at me.”
I wanted to say something that would help her feel better, but I couldn’t come up with a single word. Later that night in bed, as I lay awake replaying the scene over and over in my head, I would fire off countless perfect things I should’ve said to Katrina, but in the heat of the moment my mind was shooting blanks. Aaron and I both just stood there, watching the girl cry behind the wrinkled white paper bag.
Once is bad enough, I thought. Now I’m two for two at making this girl cry! What kind of elf am I?
After what felt like an eternity, Katrina finally lifted up her eyes and said the words I desperately wanted to hear.
“Please go,” she sobbed.
We went.
Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.
—Laura Ingalls Wilder
F
riday night, December 5th, was the designated evening for assigning parts in the annual Christmas pageant, and most of the children were noticeably chipper when we arrived. Many of them now knew us by name and greeted us as we made our way through the hallway to Madhu’s room.
His door swung open just as we were about to knock.
“Hello elves!” he said when he saw us. “You are here fetching me for the pageant, are you not?”
“Yes,” chuckled Aaron. “We are
fetching
. Ready to go?”
“Oh my, yes. Very much so. I can’t wait to learn more about the wise guys . . . er . . . men from the east. I have been studying a little on my own.”
“That’s great,” said Aaron as he and Madhu turned to head back up the hallway toward the designated rehearsal room.
As they walked away, a thought crept into my head that kept me firmly planted in place. “Hey guys,” I called after them. “I wonder if . . . well, should we invite Katrina to come?”
“You mean Katrina with the paper bag?” asked Aaron.
As much as I dreaded facing the girl again, something inside me said it wouldn’t be right if we didn’t at least try.
“Well, yeah. It’s just, I don’t want her to feel left out. You know?”
“That would be splendid,” said Madhu, and he sounded like he genuinely meant it. “I’ve met this girl of which you speak. I’m sure she would be happy to join us.”
Aaron laughed again. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?”
The three of us walked down the hall to Katrina’s door and then democratically decided that Madhu should be the spokesperson.
Madhu smiled brightly as he knocked on the door. “Hello Katrina, it’s your Indian neighbor from just several meters down the hall. I’m the boy who is from India, not the girl who is Native American but who everyone refers to as the Indian. Remember me?”
As usual Madhu was talking at breakneck speed, and I wondered whether Katrina would be able to understand what he was saying. He didn’t pause or take a break between thoughts. It was more like a gushing stream of consciousness.
“But of course you remember me,” he continued without waiting for a response. “Yes, most definitely! How can you forget the only boy in the entire hospital who does not celebrate Christmas? Katrina, are you there? May we come in? Hello?”
“Are the two boys with you?” she said without her normal silent pause. “The elf boys?”
“Oh yes, yes! Absolutely. The elves have returned again, from the North Pole, I think.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard a small giggle from somewhere behind the door. “They are standing here beside me and are interested in how you are doing. May we come in?”
“Yes, just give me a second.”
Aaron and I were shocked at the warm reception. It only took a few moments of shuffling sounds before she shouted that we could enter. As I moved through the doorway my eyes fell again on the crayon-drawn sign below Katrina’s nameplate.
“Hi Katrina. What does this mean?” I asked before the question slipped my mind. “E.D.—twelve seventy-nine,” I said, reading the inscription aloud. “Is that a special date or something?”
“Sort of,” she said through her bag as she walked around from the other side of the bed. “It’s when I was supposed to die, last December. The E.D. stands for estimated death.”
“Oh,” I said, wishing I hadn’t been so nosey. “Sorry.”
“That’s alright. It just helps me remember to be thankful for every day. The doctors all told me I probably wouldn’t live to see last Christmas and I’m still here.”
I didn’t like to hear about dying so I changed the subject as fast as I could.
“Do you still have the red Christmas list from Dr. Ringle?” I blurted out. “I’m supposed to get it back for him.”
“Oh, I already gave it to him,” she said.
“You did?” I was more than a bit surprised to hear that. “But he told me to come get it from you. When did you give it to him?”
“On the night we met. I was pretty mad that night because, well, you know, what with the candy cane and all. Once you were gone he gave me the paper and I wrote down what I wanted. Then I wadded it up in a ball and threw it right back at him. It hit him square in the nose!”
“Perhaps,” Madhu interjected, “Dr. Ringle misplaced your list, Katrina. That is certainly a possibility.”
“Right,” added Aaron. “He probably lost it. How about you write it down again for us?”
“No way. You’ll look at it! I don’t want anyone but Santa to see my list. Besides, I already gave it to him once, and that should be good enough.”
“Suit yourself, but don’t blame us elves if you don’t get what you want for Christmas,” I said jokingly. She didn’t think it was very funny.
Crossing her arms, she shot back at me in a voice that was closer to her usual self. “I
know
I’m not getting it for Christmas anyway! Santa can’t give me what I want. I shouldn’t have even bothered writing it down on that stupid paper.”
Madhu didn’t seem bothered by Katrina’s quick change in temperament. In his typical upbeat way he squelched the fire that was starting to burn with a few speedy words.
“Well then,” he said, “that makes two of us who are definitely not getting anything for Christmas. Your list is lost, maybe in one of Dr. Ringle’s nostrils if you threw it hard enough, while mine was ripped to shreds by a crazy Indian boy and sent out with the trash.”
Katrina laughed at that. It was probably the first time in a long time that laughter had escaped her white paper disguise.
“Katrina,” I said as the chuckles subsided. “We didn’t just come here to get your list. We’re going tonight to get parts in the Christmas pageant and were wondering if you’d like to come? It’s gonna be fun to be—”
“No,” she said before I even finished speaking. Her tone and body language had changed again without warning.
“But Katrina,” chimed Aaron. “We thought you might like—”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked nastily. “No means no.” Silence followed. I didn’t dare open my mouth again for fear of what Katrina might do or say if I did. Aaron, too, kept quiet while Madhu paced slowly around the room, seemingly in deep thought. Katrina stood firm, her eyes darting back and forth among the three of us.