One little wet lonely crab

One + little + wet + lonely + crab… Small pieces of metal with random meaning. Katie laid them out again and again on the white, dusty radiator. Mom gave her this Word Magnet Set for her eight birthday two years ago. She was born like in a fairy-tale – just on the Christmas Eve.  And every year she waited eagerly for this holiday full of wonders and presents. She wanted to grow up as tall and beautiful as their Christmas tree decorated with sparkling silver balls and little candy canes. When it got dark and white flakes were slowly covering every building in Denver, her mom lighted the tree and their room turned into the wonderland. Katie closed her eyes very tight. When mom let her look, she always had something marvelous in her hands, something that Katie dreamed about. To be honest, Katie was sure that her mom knew some magic. Otherwise, how did she guess what Katie wanted to have?

 But the real magic always arrived when Katie having her teeth briefly brushed hurried up to her bed. That was time for a Christmas fairy-tale she waited for during the whole year. It was a special story not like the others that mom read her in the evenings. The Christmas tale was about fat and fickle kings and poor princes, about lonely ducklings and speaking bottlenecks, about smart and brave tin soldiers and silly princess. Everything was possible in this enchanting world…

The headache was unbearable. There was nothing to do but look at the frozen hospital yard through the small window warmed up by her hot forehead. And wait. Katie knew how to wait. Nevertheless, today was the third day in a row that Marie hasn’t showed up. Snow at the hospital yard remained fresh-fallen, without any tracks. Meant that she wouldn’t come today, she wouldn’t smile Hello, Miss Katie! with little wrinkles in the corners of her tender eyes. Nobody ever called Katie Miss and it was so pleasant that this adult woman (well, Katie would even say old woman) addressed her so respectfully.

She met Marie, a kind Mexican woman with soft, swarthy hands, accidentally. At that time she didn’t have headaches every day and spent her evenings leafing through a big, beautiful book that mom gave her for her last birthday. It had amazing paintings of emerald sea and gold, sunny beaches, of fearless captains and morning, transparent haze, of beautiful women and bustling seaside cities. Of course, Katie’s favorite painting was the one with the sea. But it looked different from other paintings. This sea wasn’t scary dark as it becomes during the storm or sparkling and green as it becomes during the calm. There was the morning sea. It was carefree and playful; it was kissing a fresh wind and mirrored the waking up sun. The same carefree tenderness colored the delicate dress of a girl standing near the water and greeting the sun. The same silly tenderness was in the eyes of a big, white dog that was looking at the girl…

 She is so pretty, huh? – Katie heard a hoarse woman’s voice from behind, - Interesting, what she thinks about? You know, I also like pictures. Sometimes I go to museums and watch some pictures and statues for hours. Everything is so beautiful there, in museums. When I was kid, I liked watch my brother painted… He was really good!

They got into a conversation. Marie turned out to be a wonderful story-teller. She made up exciting stories about people on the paintings. She told Katie about poor, beautiful girls who were in love with poor but well-mannered boys and their greedy fathers who wanted to marry their daughters to old, ugly merchants. She told Katie about white sailing boats fighting the storm on the horizon; and brave captains who always came back home after violent tempests.

That evening Marie left the hospital very late when Katie had to go to bed. But for a long time after she left Katie’s imagination painted on the silent hospital walls battles and kisses, sea wind and scorching sand.

Next day Marie came to Katie’s room again and they spent the whole day talking about people who speak different languages, about different countries all over the world and certainly, about ocean. Marie grew up in Mexico, in a city next to Hermosillo with a beautiful name “The City of Sun” (La Ciudad del Sol). Most of all she liked reading. She read all the books that she found in the library of a priest in their local church who was very kind to her and often invited her to his home. She had a big family. All her relatives wanted her to marry an old man and to live as all other women in her family which meant having a lot of children, cooking and looking after the house the whole day long. But Marie was born very stubborn so after graduating from the middle school she ran away from home and went to America, right to the ocean, to Florida.

She told Katie how wonderful was to meet a rising sun every morning and to wander on the wet sand every evening. Unfortunately, life in Florida was way too expensive for her tiny salary which was usually all spent up on apartment rent fee and some food. She stayed in Florida for about ten years so it was very sad for her to leave it. Nevertheless, one day she packed her little suitcase and took the bus to Denver. Her apartment owner had a friend there who can help Marie to find a job in a hospital.

Her apartment owner in Florida was a very kind woman and they became great friends with Marie. In the evenings she made a soup and put a big pot on the darkened of time, wooden table in the kitchen.  They talked about their work, life and men while fishing out big pieces of potatoes and cabbage from the pot. They decorated together a bushy Christmas tree in December and planted flowers in the old, lopsided flowerbeds in March. When Marie was leaving her apartment owner gave her a very beautiful (and most probably, very expensive) jewelry with a silver chain. She said it would help Marie if everything falls apart. Since then every time when she had problems, Marie took it out of her suitcase, stroked it and asked it to help a bit. It always worked!

Katie was catching each word of Marie’s story with enthusiasm. It sounded so much like her Christmas tale…

But Marie had no idea about Christmas story! So Katie told her everything about a tall tree glittering with hundreds of lights, about lovely presents from mom, about her birthday and how one day she would become beautiful and slender like their Christmas tree. She also told her about magical Christmas story. Finally, she got a great idea.

-          You should come to my birthday! I’m inviting you. I’ll ask mom and she’ll let you listen to a Christmas story too.

Marie smiled and said that she would be glad to come and to meet Katie’s mom.

But then everything went bad. The closer Christmas was, the worse Katie felt. She had headache every day and doctors were saying such ugly words as meningitis and puncture. These words were unfamiliar to Katie but according to doctors’ faces they didn’t promise anything good. Talking to mom was allowed only by phone. Sometimes she came to hospital yard and Katie waved to her while hiding tears. The whole day long Katie lied on the bed looking at the snowflakes sparkling in the sun and dreamed about warm summer and sea waves. She cheered up a little only when Marie passed by.

One evening the headache was especially unbearable despite of Katie’s efforts to obey all doctors’ prescriptions. She wished she could just take the head off and put it somewhere on the top shelf. When Marie looked into the room and said her usual Good evening, Miss Katie, Katie broke down and cried. She told Marie that there wouldn’t be wonders anymore, that there were only three days left till Christmas, that there wouldn’t be any candies and there wouldn’t be a Christmas tree. Her mom wouldn’t kiss her saying Happy Birthday and wouldn’t tell her Christmas story.

-          Will I die like the girl with matches from this sad tale my mom once told me? She froze to death just on New Year’s Eve. 

Marie stroked her head without saying anything. Then she turned off the lights, told Katie to muffle up properly and to listen to Marie’s Christmas tale.

One nice, warm evening my mom told me that story, - started she. – There live not only beautiful girls and brave captains at the sea. There also live tiny creatures that we rarely notice because they hide in the sand or swim in the water. I want to tell you about red Little Crab who lived at the ocean, right on the water edge. He was a very brave and kind crab. But he was very lonely: in the mornings he met the rising sun, cleaned up in his hole, smoothed out the sand near the water, drew flowers on the sand, and decorated it with little seashells and starfishes. But he didn’t have anyone to enjoy the sunset sitting at the flat, wet pebbles; he didn’t have anyone to show his treasures that he found in the ocean; he didn’t have anyone to tell jokes and to splash each other in the breaking wave.

Once, after the storm Little Crab was strolling home along the shore pulling out his tired legs from the algae. Suddenly, he noticed a big grey seashell in a damp pit that breathed with effort opening and closing her valves. Little Crab had met seashells before but he had never seen them with opened valves. At that moment he realized that the seashell was just dying without water. So he asked her politely if she needed some help. The seashell suddenly opened her doors and a pretty, tiny Pearl looked out of it. She whispered confusedly: “If you don’t mind… I’d be very thankful…” The heart of Little Crab began to beat of happiness.

The seashell was very big and heavy for the Little Crab and he was dragging it to the water through sand and algae. It took him the whole three days. Though, these three days were the happiest in his life. At first, the Pearl was very timid and worried about Little Crab spending so much energy. She gingerly looked out of the seashell, said hello and hid inside again. But hour-by-hour she got used to Little Crab and they started discussing everything in the world when Little Crab had a respite. They laughed and joked around; Little Crab brought her little flowers from the shore and even sang her pirates’ songs that he heard from his father-traveler.

One day Little Crab completed his mission and the time to say goodbye had come. That evening the setting sun seeing off they talked for a long time and kept silent even for a longer time. Finally, the Pearl confusedly looking aside kissed Little Crab and slid into the water.

First time in his life he didn’t want to go home. He spent the whole night on the wet pebbles without even shaking off the splashes from his legs. When the morning came he decided to find his Pearl at all costs and to tell her words that he didn’t dare to say the night before. And he gamely rushed into the deep water…

“Marie, where are you? I’m locking the entrance” – heard they the voice from the hall.

“I’m sorry, Miss Katie, I gotta go. I finish story next time, ok?” – Marie bent and kissed Katie on the forehead.

One + little + wet + lonely + crab. Silly magnets don’t have any sense. After that evening Marie didn’t come any more. And today was Christmas Eve. Katie turned to the wall and pulled knees to her chin. A blizzard was raging outside, and the wind was throwing snowballs onto the windows. Sea was rocking Little Crab from side to side; and he wearily paddled with all his legs…

Katie woke up from the rustle in the room. It became completely dark outside so it was dark in the room as well. But in the opposite from her bed corner shone hundreds of little lights. “Miss Katie” – heard she. There was a little tree with colorful candies, tiny toys and bright garlands on its branches. And near the tree there was Maris in her big, baggy hospital gown. She approached Katie, took her in warm and smelling the snow arms, and whispered: “Happy birthday, Little Crab! And happy Christmas!”

The hospital room suddenly turned into the fairyland with wonders, enchanting shadows and kind kings, brave captains and amorous princess. Even the artificial tree seemed to smell like the dark forest and Katie heard toys on the table whispering to each other about a kind fairy that came to Katie tonight.

-          I came to finish my story.

-          Did he find her? – This question disturbed Katie for last days.

-          Close your eyes…

Katie closed her eyes as tight as possible and suddenly felt a small, cool ball being placed at her palm. She opened her eyes and saw a tiny pearl in her hand.

-          He found her and told her everything he had to say. Every little crab if he is not afraid of storms finds his pearl. This one is yours…

Long time after that night Katie believed that Marie was her Christmas fairy from the Christmas tale. She never met Marie again. Next morning she woke up from the telephone ringing. It was her mom asking Katie to look out of the window. She ran to the window and saw a dear figure on the white, snow canvas. Her mom waved her and screamed in the phone “I love you, sweetie! Happy birthday, my little girl! Happy Christmas!” Holding her breath, Katie took a list of paper and quickly scribbled a couple of words. She made a paper plane and sent it to the middle of the hospital yard. The woman downstairs dragged off her fluffy gloves and hastily unfolded the plane. There were big, clumsy letters inside “Mom, don’t worry, I’ll get better soon! I love you. Your Little Crab”.

On her way to the bus stop, the woman in the grey, winter coat stopped by the little café to buy coffee and fresh New York Times. She unfolded the newspaper only in the warm bus. She tried to read but her thoughts were far away from there, somewhere next to a small paper plane diving from the hospital window. She absently followed newspaper’s lines. The article talked about the results of 2011. Fiscal 2011 saw 396, 906 deportations, the largest number in the history of the USA. Most of the illegal immigrants in the States are from Latin American countries, including 6,7 million from Mexico, 530 thousand from El Salvador, 480 thousand from Guatemala and 320 thousand from Honduras.

Sometimes when Katie feels snowed under with work or just has a bad day, she takes out a little pearl. She strokes her and remembers tender brown eyes. And it’s amazing how all the problems just fade away…