Bitter wind slashed me as I opened the car door. I struggled out into the tempest and slammed the door behind me. Wind and snow struck my face; for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Blinking, I made out the general form of Wal-mart, lowered my head, and shuffled forward, wary of ice. Tonight, of all nights, my wife insisted on some ingredient for some pie she planned to bake for the gathering tomorrow.
Through the whistling, moaning wind, I heard the bell, ringing, ringing, ringing.
I hated the bell ringers. No, I didn’t have any change, don’t look at me that way. No, I won’t feel guilty. It’s a blizzard. Give it up already.
The wind threatened to knock me over. My cheeks burned and my fingers ached. I needed new gloves.
Ring, ring, ring!
I could see her now through the curtains of snow, a red-cheeked, bright-eyed high school girl doing a little dance as she rang the bell. She saw me, too.
“Hey, mister!”
I ignored her and pressed forward.
“Hey! I just need to talk to you for–”
“No change!” I shouted.
“If I could just have a second of your–”
“No!” I screamed. No-no-no! How many times did I have to listen to people beg for money. Just a few dollars, they said. Imagine, for the price of a cup of coffee a week, they said.
I’d given my share. Enough was enough.
I stalked toward the girl, not quite rational, ready to give her a piece of my mind. I opened my mouth. A gust of wind stole my breath.
Smiling, the girl handed me her bell and ran inside.
A faint glimmer of music shimmered through the air as my hand dropped. I stood, nearly frostbitten, for ten seconds, flabbergasted, before slipping into her little red shelter. Back to the wind, I found a half-dozen mostly empty styrofoam cups of once-hot chocolate. I set the bell on the little shelf and turned to leave.
From inside the box, I could view the storm almost as through a window: the gray-blue swirl of snow, the parking lot lights floating like obscured suns above, a dark figure stumbling toward me. He was a lone shadow in a harsh world. I grabbed the bell, hesitated, then shook it. A peal of golden melody sprang forth. The figure looked in my direction. It was another harried husband, trying to rush past.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, too softly.
The automatic doors opened and he was inside.
A few minutes later the girl returned. “Thank you!” she said. Steam rose from the cup in her hands.
“You needed another cup of cocoa?”
“No, I really had to go to the bathroom. This is just a bonus.”
“You could have just left.” My anger had cooled to a few embers of annoyance.
“No way! You gotta keep ringing the bell. Especially on a night like tonight. It reminds people.”
I just looked at her. She grinned, snatched the bell from my hand, and rang it in my face. “Merry Christmas!” she said cheerfully.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
I stood a moment before the automatic doors as they opened, not quite ready to come in from the cold.
This story was originally published in the 4 County Mall on 12-7-15.