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***
Connor
I'm not a cruel man, but the cool reception I receive from Ginger and several players gives me pause. I wouldn't steal a Dirty Santa gift from someone for the sheer pleasure of it. And I'm not about to let a bossy player dictate how the game is played. Ginger clearly laid out the rules and confirmed them when questioned. Though the warmth in her eyes faded to cold hard emeralds when I caught her eye.
I have some explaining to do to get back in her good graces. I’m sure she’ll understand when I tell her about Christopher, the young boy I mentor. He’s had a rough life for someone so young, and it’s taken its toll on him. He’s lost his voice. The only joy that's brightened his spirits in the last months is the cartoon musical about a family, each member burdened by their unique talents. It gives him hope, and I'd like to foster that hope and help him find his voice in a world so loud it drowns out its weakest members.
The game ends abruptly when we play full circle to the number one player. She keeps her original gift, a candy cane onesie sleep set with a matching furry eye mask. Maybe she loves it, but I assume it's a tactic to quash the tension.
Many grab their coats and make a hasty retreat to the exit. I hang back and pick up torn gift wrap and ribbons with a few others. Ginger thanks people for coming and graciously offers the building block set to the woman who originally opened it. It’s a kind thing to do.
“I insist. I want you to be happy with what you take home this evening.” Ginger offers the colorful box to the woman. “Your niece will be so happy to unwrap it Christmas morning.”
“I can’t accept it like this,” the woman shakes her head. “Rules are rules. You won that fair and square.”
“But I only stole it back to trade with you. It should go to a child, not me.” Ginger insists, but the woman remains firm, sacrificing herself on principle.
“I’m perfectly fine with my parting gift.”
She says it as if it’s a trinket consolation prize, but it’s every bit as valuable as the block set, if not more so. Who wouldn’t want a tabletop s’mores fire pit? It’s something she can enjoywithher niece.
Ginger’s shoulders slump when the woman leaves. She tosses the refused building block set on the table by the door and shoots me a glare that could freeze lava.
I wait until the last stragglers leave before approaching her with an explanation. It’s the least I can do and will hopefully keep me in her good graces. She handled herself with such poise and grace this evening amid the tension.
“Thanks for coming. I hope you had a good time.” Ginger turns on the charm, mustering her hostess persona for the last guest to leave.
“I had a lovely time. Thanks for doing this, Ginger. See you around.” The woman air kisses Ginger and gives her arm a squeeze before stealing a glance in my direction. “Sure, you don't want me to stay?"
“I’ve got everything under control.” Ginger opens the door to let the woman out.
The woman exits, and the door closes with a harsh snap. Ginger waits by the door, arms folded and green eyes smoldering.
“Closing time.” She tempers her voice, but the gritty edge of irritation swells to the surface when she bites out the words.
“Look, Ginger, I didn’t mean to cause a problem tonight.”
“But you did, and look what happened.” She works her tight jaw. “I didn’t want to be here tonight, but at least I tried to make the best of it.”
“You’re a great hostess. The game is just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
She leans back on the door, opening it to the cold night air. It’s cold enough for a person to get frostbite, but her fiery temper must heat her through and through because she doesn’t back down.
A few people mill about in the dimly lit parking lot. Trading phone numbers or making connections, perhaps. Doing what I’d like to do with Ginger, revisit the connection we had earlier when the sparks flying weren’t combat missiles.
How did things go so wrong?
"Misunderstanding? You ruined that woman's evening." She spreads her arms in an expansive gesture. "Over what? A toy?"
"She's not the only one who wanted it." My heart pounds against my chest as irritation swells in my gut. "There were plenty of people who wanted it, but that woman tried to shame us all into cowering to her will. I'm not the kind of person to shrink back like that."
“I’d hardly call it cowering. Even so, no one else was so greedy to take a gift meant for a child, were they?”
She places her hands around her body, clearly shivering with the cold wind blowing in.
“I didn’t take it out of greed.” I shake my head as I rub my hand along my jaw. “You don’t understand. I need it.”
Not personally, but for Christopher. It’s exactly what he needs.
