Fiction
A PAINTING AT CHRISTMAS Blake sighed with each book he threw into his locker. His eyes ached and his shoulders burned. He spent last night washing dishes at his job, the dinner crowd ran over late which meant he had to work even later. He barely woke up in time for school, much less even concentrate in geometry. “We’re going to have to move,” his mother said this morning as she poured cereal for Blake, then herself. “We can’t afford this place.” Blake looked over to his fatherÕ s chair, already empty. His dad lost his job, sixteen months ago to be exact and since then has spent every waking hour trying to find a new job. Lately, he would stand at the corner, four blocks over in hopes that a construction manager would hire him for the day for general labor. He was once so proud of his job, working as a Production supervisor. The company often threw family picnics and dinners for their employees, Blake remembered one picnic in particular. It was where he met Kerri. He mulled over that thought as he stood in front of his locker. He could take his books home with him and attempt
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to finish his geometry homework. But who was he kidding? He would head home, change into his uniform and head straight to work. Most of the time, he would collapse in bed after work, too tired to even open his books. Everyday Blake hoped that his father could find a job again, so that he wouldnÕ t have to work. Blake’s paychecks went to buy groceries; his mother didn’t make much at her waitress job. Her tips barely covered the bills. Blake checked his watch; Kerri would just be getting out of school. She lived 20 minutes away from Blake and attended a private girlsÕ school. Just about now, her driver would be picking her up from school to take her to her tennis lessons. Blake smiled as he remembered the faces Kerri would make when her driver picked her up. Kerri was different from most girls that lived on that side of town. While she could have anything she desired, she didnÕ t desire much. She was content with a sketchbook and pencils, which she would fill with artwork. It never seemed to bother her to visit Blake’s one bedroom apartment where he
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slept on the couch. When the company folded and Blake’s father lost his job, Kerri’s father was quickly able to find another job largely in part to his buddy that he golfed with on the weekends. Unfortunately, the company did not have any positions for Blake’s father. Blake headed home, hoping that Kerri would call there. “I found the most perfect gift for you,” Kerri gushed on the phone, Ò you are going to love it, but I wonÕ t give you any hints.” Blake smiled; he knew Kerri had something perfect for him. “No hints?” Blake replied as he pulled his uniform over his head, Ò Well I guess IÕ ll have to wait.” With a quick look at his watch, he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. He needed to catch the bus to head to his work. Blake spent most of his time on the bus thinking of how he could earn extra money to buy Kerri a Christmas present. Over washing dishes, he realized that he would only be able to make an extra twenty dollars if he picked up a shift. Twenty dollars didnÕ t amount to much, what could he find for that amount?