An Artificial Christmas by James O. Youngcliff

Author:James O. Youngcliff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: James O. Youngcliff
Published: 2022-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Without a doubt, the white truck parked in front of him was the same as his toy—but bigger, a lot bigger! It even had three minor scratches on the driver’s side like his, along with the paint chips on the hood! Miguelito brushed the snow away from one step and sat down, because he felt his knees giving out.

“Dios mío...” he whispered. “It’s not possible....”

“What’s not possible?” Sanaa asked, opening the entrance door, and stepping down on the landing to join Miguelito.

“Go away!”

“My, aren’t you grumpy today?” she teased. “Why are you shaking so?”

“Can’t you see it’s wintertime? People get the shivers in cold weather.”

“Yes, they do, but your hands are trembling a lot—so what’s really wrong? Are you having another asthma attack?”

“No, I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“So, what then?” she insisted.

Sanaa Bello’s questions irritated him. Miguelito got up, went over to the truck, and tried the door handle. It opened right up.

“Is that your father’s new truck?” she asked, coming up right behind him.

“Hey, back off, give me some room,” he complained. He spotted the key on the bench. “My father forgot his keys; I’m here to get them. And no, that’s not his truck. It’s a loaner from work.”

“Work? I thought construction workers were off for the winter months?”

“Well, not him. Besides, why the questions again? You forgot our deal of two questions per visit. You’ve had one too many,” he added.

“If you’re counting, it’s seven questions, but I only agreed to two questions when practicing jump rope. This is different. I think you’re hiding something from me. I have gotten to know when you’re up to something now. You’re a very secretive person.”

“I am? No way, I just don’t like nosey girls poking into my business, that’s all.”

“You forget who helped you with the lamp.”

“And if you ask me, and please don’t, I think we’re even. Besides, you got the better part of the deal, so you shouldn’t whine.”

“Okay, Michael Arijona, be that way; I will never talk to you again!” Sanaa went back to the stoop and sat down.

Miguelito shut the truck door, locked it, turned, and walked over to his friend. “Hey, look, Sanaa, I’m sorry. Sundays are not my favorite day of the week. I’m hungry and tired from church. I’d like to tell you what’s going on, but I can’t. Trust me, you wouldn’t understand, anyway.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t understand what’s happening myself. You see... things started getting crazy after... No, I can’t say any more.”

“Things started happening after you found the nasty, smelly tree in the trash. Isn’t that right?”

“How did you know? I’ve said too much.... Sorry, I got to go to lunch.... I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, Miguelito, please tell me what’s wrong. It’ll help you share things with another person.”

“I said no.” With that, he climbed the stairs slowly, wondering what to do or say before he faced his parents.

Stopping at the door before knocking, he considered not having shared what he knew with Sanaa.

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