At least that was the plan. At the time, I didn’t see it so much a plan as destiny.

I was going to be a famous writer. I would attend wine and cheese parties held in my honor at a wealthy patron’s house, drink too much, make inappropriate comments and tell tasteless jokes. People would laugh at my witticisms and embrace my boorish ways because I was a great artist. Just a little eccentric, they’d say.

During this period of self delusion in my late teens and early 20s I wrote short stories. Mostly, they were filled with angst and dry humor. One was actually published in a magazine and I received a check for $200.

I guess I figured I’d made my point because I decided to pursue a real career, knowing I would have been a great and famous writer if I’d really wanted.

This week I decided I’d hunt down a Christmas story I wrote back in the day. I figured I’d post it here as evidence I wasn’t afraid to embarrass myself. I expected it to be a bit painful, reading what I’d written back when youthful over-confidence and naiveté were my defining personality traits.

It took some effort to find the story, buried deep in a box long forgotten, I had to fight mightily my impulse to edit and rewrite as I typed it here.

When I read the story over, I found myself kind of liking it. Maybe because it was a mostly true story. Maybe because it wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be.

So, here it is. Have a great Christmas.

The Greatest Gift

The snow began to fall harder as Jason neared the end of his paper route. He pulled his scarf tighter on his collar to keep the cold flakes off his neck. He had been delivering papers for almost two hours now, a job that took him less than 45 minutes when he could ride his bike. He knew his mother would be waiting by the window when he got back home and his little brother, Tommy, would be complaining about having to wait dinner for him. His father had offered to drive him on his route this evening but Jason had insisted on doing it himself.

It was with a great amount of pride that Jason had taken this job. He had tried for several weeks before he could convince the route supervisor that he was capable of the task, though, at 11-years-old he was the youngest boy in town delivering papers.

He had gone to the doors of all his customers, introduced himself, and written down where each wanted their papers left at night.

The people on his route were, for the most part, very friendly and Jason looked forward to bringing them their papers. There was, however, one exception and that exception stood directly before Jason as he brushed the snow off his paper bag. It was the Garden Hallow Convalescent Center, the last stop on his route.

As he walked inside the building his nostrils were once again burned by the sickly smell of the place. The nurse at the front desk, as she always did, glanced up at him and nodded her head slightly. He walked down the halls quickly on his way to the four rooms where he had to leave papers.

It terrified Jason each time he was inside the building, to see the people who filled the hallways. Those in steel walkers who shuffled along without looking up, those who sat in chairs and stared blankly at him, and worst of all, the lady who sat strapped into a chair with a tray in front of her, like a baby. The withered old woman would babble over and over again “Ace, two, three, jack, queen, king.” She would wave her arms wildly and sometimes even try to grab Jason as he passed by. As he walked past her this night she screamed something he could not understand and gave him a look that Jason was sure meant murder.

After dropping off his first three papers, Jason went into the one place where he knew he could find some happiness in this horrible building. It was Mrs. Green’s room and she and Jason had developed a friendship. He would often stop to talk to her about school, his family and anything else about his life, all of which she seemed to find most fascinating.

But this evening, for the first time that he could remember, she was not in her room. He paused after seeing her empty and coverless bed and finally dropped the paper on her nightstand. As he left, however, he heard her roommate speak. It was the first time he had ever really noticed her and he was so surprised he hadn’t heard what she’d said.

“Pardon me?” Jason said.

“I said, young man, Mrs. Green passed away last night.”

Jason just stood there. He had never known anyone who had died before and he found himself wanting to laugh, as if it were some kind of joke.

“You may continue to leave the paper in this room,” the lady said in a toneless voice. “From now on you can bill it to me. My name is Mrs. Kronkite.”

Jason hated her. How could she be so uncaring? Didn’t she realize that of all the people in this awful place, Mrs. Green was the one who deserved to live? He turned and left quickly. He thought he might cry and he didn’t want her to see him.

Jason could not leave the building yet, however, as the old man who everyone called Archie was waiting for him in the hallway. As he did every night, Archie grabbed his arm to stop him, and then reached into a pocked in his housecoat and pulled out a carton of chocolate malt balls. He poured exactly three into his wrinkled hand and held them out until Jason took them. As he always did, Jason dropped the candies into the garbage can outside the building as he left.

As the days passed, Jason actually began taking a liking to Mrs. Kronkite. At first, she had been quiet, like the rest of his nursing home customers, but one day out of the blue, she said, “Do you think you’ll get that video game you’ve been wanting for Christmas?”

He had told Mrs. Green that he was saving his route money to buy a game for a video system he was hoping to get for Christmas. He hadn’t been aware that the quiet woman in the next bed had been paying attention.

“I don’t know,” Jason answered. “There is one gift under the tree that is the right size and shape.”

‘The things kids ask for these days,” Mrs. Kronkite sighed. “But I suppose if I were your age I would want one of those contraptions, too.”

Jason left with a feeling he may have found a new friend in this place.

As Christmas drew nearer, Jason discovered that Mrs. Kronkite loved nothing better than to talk about the holiday. She would tell him about Christmas as a child and Christmases with her own children. They both agreed that things hadn’t really changed too much when it came to not being able to wait to open gifts.

“I remember when I was your age,” she told him one day. “I saw a very beautiful Oriental doll in a store window and I wanted it more than anything in the world. It sat in a glass case and looked so fragile that I knew it needed mothering almost as much as a real baby.”

“Did you get it?” Jason asked.

“Oh, no,” she replied with a sad smile. “I received a new overcoat and, thinking back on it, I’m sure it was very hard on my parents not to be able to give me exactly what I wanted.”

On Christmas Eve, Jason delivered his papers in such a good mood that he completely forgot to be horrified when he walked into Garden Hallow. There weren’t as many people as usual in the hallways and those who were paid little attention to him. When he entered Mrs. Kronkite’s room, she greeted him with her usual smile and wished him luck with his Christmas gifts. As he prepared to leave, she held up her arm, signaling him to wait. She then reached inside her nightstand drawer and pulled out a plastic bag filled with Christmas cookies, the same kind Jason had seen earlier on the cafeteria tables. The bag was tied with a green ribbon.

“Merry Christmas,” she said before blushing and looking away. Jason took the cookies, and with tightness in his throat, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

When he got home, Jason took the cookies to his room rather than giving them to his mother, as he usually did with food gifts he received from his customers. After dinner, he asked his parents if he could go to the shopping mall to buy a gift. His mother looked at him with a surprised expression, as he had told her his shopping was finished several days earlier. But she smiled and told him not to be too late.

In the morning, Tommy was jumping on his bed at 5:30, telling him their parents had given the OK to start opening gifts. The first gift Jason opened was the one shaped like a video game player and he was not disappointed. He spent most of the day playing the game that had come with the system, and his father asked him how many games he was going to buy with the money he’d saved. “I may wait a while,” Jason said to his surprised parents. “This game is pretty fun and there’s no big hurry.”

As was tradition, his family would be going to his aunt and uncle’s house for a visit that evening. Jason, however, asked his mother if he could be dropped off at Garden Hallow instead. She kissed him on the cheek and said “You’ve changed a lot in the past few weeks, Jason, and I think the change has been for the better. Certainly we’ll drop you off. I’m sure your Aunt Bonnie will understand.”

As his dad pulled the car in front of the building, Tommy suddenly decided that he, too, would like to go inside. “That’s up to Jason,” his mother told him. Jason saw no way around it, so he agreed to let his little brother tag along.

The halls were even quieter than they’d been the night before. When they walked into Mrs. Kronkite’s room her eyes opened wide in surprise.

“I thought there was no paper this evening,” she said.

“There isn’t,” Jason replied. “I hope you don’t mind that me and my little brother came to visit you.”

“Of course not,” she said.

Tommy, meanwhile, had crawled up on the bed to get a better look. He sat there a minute before he finally said “Are you old?”

Jason wanted to shrink away, but Mrs. Kronkite let out a loud laugh. “Yes darling. I’m 87-years-old, and how old are you?”

“I’m almost 6, and I think I want to be 87 some day,” Tommy replied. She laughed again and the two of them began to talk like old friends, with Mrs. Kronkite giving Jason a big wink.

When it was almost time for their parents to pick them up, Jason cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Kronkite, I want to give you something.”

He then picked up the brown paper bag he’d brought and pulled out a package wrapped with about a mile of Christmas paper and almost as much tape. “I’m sorry about the wrapping job,” Jason said.

Mrs. Kronkite held the package and said in a quiet voice it was the most beautiful wrapping job she’d ever seen.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Tommy asked, not understanding how anyone could receive a gift without immediately tearing off all the paper.

Mrs. Kronkits looked at Jason with tears forming in the corners of her eyes and started to say something, but stopped and reached out and squeezed his hand. When she opened the package and saw the Oriental doll in the glass case she held it to her chest and began to sob quietly.

“Aren’t you too old for dolls?” Tommy asked.

Mrs. Kronkite smiled at him through her tears and said, “I think I’m just the right age.”

Jason knew his parents were waiting outside by now so he wished Mrs. Kronkite a Merry Christmas and helped Tommy on with his coat.

“Just a moment, Jason,” she said. “She pulled his head close to her lips. “I want you to know you have given me the greatest gift of my life,” she whispered. “And I think you know I’m not just talking about the doll.” Jason found tears coming to his own eyes as he left with Tommy in tow.

As they neared the front door, Archie came around the corner. He looked at the two of them in surprise, then signaled them over. He poured exactly three chocolate malt balls into his hand and gave them to Jason. He then repeated the action with Tommy, who immediately tossed all three into his mouth.

“Look at me, Jason, I’m a squirrel,” he said.

As they left the building, Jason put one of the candies into his own mouth, and to his surprise, it was the sweetest treat he’d ever tasted.