JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW
I make sure to take the route that’s the farthest from the ghettos because even though it’s snowing, and people wear hats and scarves to protect themselves from the cold wind and snow, I don’t want to drive around that place and risk seeing him, seeing them, and to be extra careful, I keep my eyes on the road, avoiding to look on the sidewalk or at other drivers, afraid that I’ll see them hand in hand... or...
“God, I’ll go crazy here!” I exclaim as I realize just how paranoid I am, but still do not look around.
The phone rings in the speakers of my car, and I see that it’s mom, but I’m not in the mood to talk to her right now, so I ignore it.
Yes, she helped me tremendously during college, sending me at least five hundred dollars monthly, and giving me thirty thousand dollars when I finished so I could start my company, but that doesn’t mean that I forgot all those years of abuse, all the cold nights, the hunger, or the guys that she brought home, and some beat me around, one almost raped me, and when I told her, she told me that I’m a brat that seeks attention.
I give her more money than she can spend as a thank you for the help that she gave me, but that was most probably because she knew that someday I'd get rich because I really didn’t and still don't buy that ‘I felt guilty and wanted to redeem myself’ bullshit.
I turn the radio on to keep my mind occupied and stop the thoughts that I can’t seem to be able to control, and out of goddamn nowhere, a black Santa appears in the front of my car at not even 7 feet away, and I quickly push the breaks and swerve right so I wouldn’t hit him.
The car stops together with my racing heart and breath, and I look around to see if he is ok and panic when I can’t see him.
I quickly get out of the car, and almost fall due to my shaking legs, but I’m caught by two arms that belong to none other than my reckless Santa.
“Are you ok?” He asks in a gentle voice, as he comes and stands in front of me, looking at me worried with a pair of cerulean green eyes that stand out due to his dark skin tone, and I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t. I’m too shaken up, and also angry, and I don’t want to say something that I might regret.
He’s just an old man, Jamal.
I tell myself in order to calm down.
Even though he wears a Santa hat, I can see that his hair is winter-white, just like his beard, and his wrinkles look as if they were made from laughter, which hints that he’s a cheerful, good person.
“I’m sorry, I was not looking--” He tries to apologize, but I interrupt him as I see that he holds his left arm with his right one.
“Are you ok?” I point at his arms, and he nods.
“Yes, I think I’ll have a bruise, but I’m ok. But your tire, on the other hand...” He trails off as he gestures to my tire, which seems to be deflating.
“It’s just a tire. It will keep me going a few more miles until I find a service.” I say reassuringly, and he nods, smiling, and I want to yell, scream, tell him that because of him, the chances that I’ll encounter the two people that I despise most in the world increased tenfold and that he shouldn’t smile... but I don’t.
He’s just an old man.
“How much will it cost?” He asks, probably wanting to pay for it.
“It’s ok, I’ll manage. You just look where you’re going because maybe next time you won’t be so lucky,” My voice is scolding but also worried, and he waves me off and smiles even bigger, an action that accentuates his wrinkles.
“There is no such thing as luck. There is just destiny because everything happens for a reason.” He states the cheesy and untrue sentences as a fact, and without even realizing it, I roll my eyes.
“You don’t believe in destiny?” He asks, still with that small smile on his face, looking at me as if he knows something that I don’t.
“No, I don’t. Now, if you’re sure you’re ok, I would like to go before my tire gets totally flat,” I point at the deflating tire and turn to go, but I’m stopped by his aged voice.
“I know a shop not very far from here, and they have the best mechanics in town. If you want, I could come with you and give you directions. I’m heading that way anyway. And as a gift for your kindness, I’ll make your biggest wish come true.” His voice is cheery, and I sigh heavily and turn back to look at him, just to see him beaming at me.
I think he’s a little off.
“Can you teleport me from here? In any other city? Another country? Even a deserted island, anywhere but here?” I ask sarcastically, and he chuckles softly and shakes his head.
“No.” He answers in an amused tone of voice, and before I got to reply with some sarcastic comment, he continues.
“But that’s just because that’s not your biggest wish.” He states again, as a fact, as if he'd never been more sure of anything in his life.
“Oh, trust me, it is!” I exclaim, and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow as if I can’t fool him.
Ok, he’s definitely off.
“Now, I really, really, need to get going--”
“Ok, let’s go then.” He says and walks to the passenger side of the car, opens the door and gets up, then gestures for me to hurry up.
God... what did I do wrong?
I think for a few seconds what to do because the old guy is certainly crazy, but he’s the harmless kind of crazy, and I need to fix my tire so I can go, and he could help, so, what the Hell?
What’s the worst that could happen, right?
“Ok, Santa, please guide me to the shop,” I say trying to enter his mind and loosen the mood, and he laughs a peal of wholehearted laughter that fills the car and even manages to make me smile, but it faded when I noticed that a warning light popped up on my dashboard. But seeing that I can still drive the car without any problems, I don’t think that it’s something serious.
At least I hope so.
“I’m not Santa. Santa Claus doesn’t exist.” He says as if I didn’t already know that, making me forget about my worry, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“I know that, but outside you said that you'd make my biggest wish come true, and you’re dressed as a Santa, so...” I explain, even though I’m sure that it’s useless.
“Yes, I said that and I’ll keep my promise, but that doesn’t mean that I’m Santa. Now, take a left turn.” I decide not to comment and just drive, hoping and praying that we get there soon, and after fifteen minutes of slow driving due to the snow that covers the roads, I take the last turn to reach the auto service.
The place looks decent, not really professional like a Rolls-Royce service, but good enough.
I park the car in their parking lot, then get out, and Santa... or whoever he thinks he is, follows, with an even bigger smile on his face.
“My job here is done. Now I have to go and help someone else,” He says in a very satisfied tone of voice, with a very satisfied look on his face.
“Yes, my biggest wish is to go to a workshop. I always dreamed of doing that in a city that I hate two days before Christmas.” The comment escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I immediately regretted it.
“Sorry, it’s just--” I want to explain myself, but he laughs softly as if he’s amused by my disbelief.
“It’s ok, I’m used to it.” I want to say that I believe him, seeing how crazy he is... but this time I manage to hold back.
“Are you sure you’re ok? And are you sure that you don’t need me to help you find your way home?” I ask, a little worried that he’ll get lost because of his... mental state.
“You should embrace yourself for when you’ll find your way home, not worry about me, kid.” He says and winks at me, again, as if he knows something that I don’t.
“Ok. I wish you a Merry Christmas, and please take care.” I say, and he nods.
“I will not wish you a Merry Christmas because I already know that you’ll have a very Merry Christmas.” I almost roll my eyes at him but contain myself, and return the smile that he’s giving me.
He turns and goes, and I do the same, then open the door where is written Reception.
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW“Hello, sir, what can I help you with?” A tiny guy, not taller than 5 ft 6, and not heavier than 110 pounds, with brown curls that fall over his brown eyes, asks me with a smile on his freckled face.“I have a flat tire, and some warning light popped up on the dashboard. I have to drive to Massachusetts, and I don’t want to--” I don’t get to say what my problem is because the guy’s eyes went wide, and interrupted me with a squeal and a high-pitched tone of voice.“You’re Jamal Jones! The billionaire, with the apps and games!” He exclaims enthusiastically, and on a normal basis I wouldn’t mind talking to him, but I’m in New fucking Jersey, and every minute spent here means more chances to see them, and I already had more delays than I wished for.“Yes, I am. Now please, I’m in a hurry.” I plead, trying to remain polite and not blow up because the poor guy did nothing to me, but as I said... gotta get out of here.“Yes, sorry. Bring the car in, and we’ll take care
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW The pain I felt when I heard Dee's name can’t be put into words. My eyes haven’t stung like this since the day I caught them. My insides, which were already broken, feel like they are put in a blender, which destroys me all over again, this time even worse if that’s even possible. I see Dee, or a blurred image of him, fact that tells me that I’m about to cry, and I bite my cheek hard in order not to and focus on the pain and the metallic taste of blood that floods my mouth, then close my eyes shut for a second to push the tears away, and without wanting, my eyes land on him again, examining him, trying to see what he has that I don’t, trying to figure out why Tristan chose him. We look different, but he’s also black, just a darker shade than me, he has a buzz cut, he's taller than me and even Tristan, and bigger, he always was. He's about 6 ft 6 and has around three hundred pounds of muscle. Maybe
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEWWe barely managed to carry him. Dee is way stronger than me, so he didn't have a problem, but I lost my breath, and my back hurt by the time we reached the destination. It's a decent-looking room that has a dark wooden table for six surrounded by six chairs, and a few feet away there’s a dark green sofa, where we lay him, and I, -unfortunately-, reluctantly let go of him, let go of his arm, which falls, touching the ground.For reasons I do not wish to discuss, I took his arm to place it on his broad chest, which moved as he breathed, and something got my attention.A tattoo that goes along the inside of his forearm.The date when we first met, when he rescued me from those bullies, is written in beautiful calligraphic numbers, which is followed by regular, strong heartbeats, then the date when I caught them together, but these numbers are ugly written and broken, and they are followed by erratic heartbeats which get further apart and smaller by every half an in
“You want to say how much he loved me,” I emphasize the word ‘loved’, and my heart stops again, my eyes land on Tristan, then I look back at Dee, hoping that he’ll contradict me.Is it possible that he still loves me?“J.J., he never touched anyone since then. I’m no doctor, but I think he developed a phobia because except for his kid, well, brother, his adoptive kid, who is Sean’s boyfriend, and me, he doesn’t even shake hands with anyone.” He explains, and I don’t even bother to hide the smile or the tears that are still rolling down my face to my neck, wetting my shirt.But Dee’s expression changed into a remorseful one as he continued talking.“I’m sorry... but it was so hard to see him crumble day by day, and after one year, I tried to convince him to try and get over you, go on dates, but I got myself a black eye. The second year, on my birthday, I managed t
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEWI rub my eyes to see if I’m seeing things, but the watch, money, and Santa's hat are still there, nicely placed on the seat. But to really be sure that the watch is mine, I turn it, and my eyes get even wider when I see my initials.J.J.Am I going crazy?But I know that I gave my watch and money to the homeless guy... but he was white... Santa was black... how?I get out of the car and run outside, even though I know that the possibility of seeing either of them is non-existent, but my brain needs answers. Logical answers, not fairy freaking answers.As expected, no one was there, or at least none of the men... with that thought, their eyes came into my mind. Cerulean green.But it can’t be... right? I mean, one was white and the other black... but the eyes... then the conversations...“I will, but first, I need to help someone that helped me.” Was the homeless guy talking about me?“I’ll make your biggest wish come true.” Santa’s voice echoes in my head over a
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW“Sir... I...” The shaky voice of the woman makes me turn, and out of nowhere, I get another hug, which I reciprocate with a smile.God, I got hugged today more than in the last five years. I hope I’ll get another hug... the most important of them all...“I wasn’t actually going to work...” The woman says as she pulls back and barely looks at me.“Ok...” I trail off, confused about why she’s telling me this, and after she wipes the rest of her tears, she continues with a guilty voice and guilty eyes.“I switched shifts with a coworker, that’s why I wouldn’t have been able to spend Christmas at home... and today... now... I should have gone to... God...” She trails off as she looks away nervously, fidgeting with her hands, then she opens her mouth to continue, but nothing comes out, and she looks at me apologetically as if she’s sorry that she can’t finish the sentence.“You don’t have to tell me if--”“No. I want to. I want you to know what you did today...” I loo
TRISTAN'S POINT OF VIEWI wake up with the familiar headache and the excruciating heartache that for ten years only increases.“Hey, T., are you ok?” Dee asks with a smile on his face while sitting on the end of the sofa, and I shake my head as in no but regret it as soon as I do because my brain feels like it’s stabbed with each shake.“Do I look ok?” I ask rhetorically while trying to sit up, hardly succeeding.“Well, you look like shit, but... don’t you remember anything?”“Oh, God, Dee... your honesty is...” I trail off trying but failing to find the right words, and he chuckles.I love him, I don't know what I would have done without him all these years, but sometimes... sometimes...“I know, I know, I’m special. But enough about the awesome moi, well, not enough because what we’re going to talk about is gonna involve me as well, and once you hear me out, you’ll make me a statue and worship me until the end of your daaaayssssssssss.” He prolonged the words and changed his voice i
TRISTAN'S POINT OF VIEWThe way home is endless, and I’m not sure if I want the time to fly or to freeze because I don’t know what his intentions are.Will I survive if he’ll just come, get his answers, and leave?As I scrub my skin almost raw due to the nerves that don’t seem to give me a fucking break, I remember that he has someone, and my heart sinks so fucking low that I think that no one will ever find it again, and tears fell so effortlessly that I didn’t even realize that I’m in so much pain that I can’t even stand until I was sobbing on the shower floor.He just wants answers... he doesn’t want me... he never will... and why would he? He's a gorgeous, brilliant, businessman, and I'm a struggling mechanic with two kids.My airways clog again, and I manage to turn the water ice cold before I pass out, and slowly, very slowly, focusing on the coldness that envelops my body, I manage to breathe again, but it’s as hard and as painful as the day I lost him because now I don’t even
TRISTAN'S POINT OF VIEWThe way home is endless, and I’m not sure if I want the time to fly or to freeze because I don’t know what his intentions are.Will I survive if he’ll just come, get his answers, and leave?As I scrub my skin almost raw due to the nerves that don’t seem to give me a fucking break, I remember that he has someone, and my heart sinks so fucking low that I think that no one will ever find it again, and tears fell so effortlessly that I didn’t even realize that I’m in so much pain that I can’t even stand until I was sobbing on the shower floor.He just wants answers... he doesn’t want me... he never will... and why would he? He's a gorgeous, brilliant, businessman, and I'm a struggling mechanic with two kids.My airways clog again, and I manage to turn the water ice cold before I pass out, and slowly, very slowly, focusing on the coldness that envelops my body, I manage to breathe again, but it’s as hard and as painful as the day I lost him because now I don’t even
TRISTAN'S POINT OF VIEWI wake up with the familiar headache and the excruciating heartache that for ten years only increases.“Hey, T., are you ok?” Dee asks with a smile on his face while sitting on the end of the sofa, and I shake my head as in no but regret it as soon as I do because my brain feels like it’s stabbed with each shake.“Do I look ok?” I ask rhetorically while trying to sit up, hardly succeeding.“Well, you look like shit, but... don’t you remember anything?”“Oh, God, Dee... your honesty is...” I trail off trying but failing to find the right words, and he chuckles.I love him, I don't know what I would have done without him all these years, but sometimes... sometimes...“I know, I know, I’m special. But enough about the awesome moi, well, not enough because what we’re going to talk about is gonna involve me as well, and once you hear me out, you’ll make me a statue and worship me until the end of your daaaayssssssssss.” He prolonged the words and changed his voice i
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW“Sir... I...” The shaky voice of the woman makes me turn, and out of nowhere, I get another hug, which I reciprocate with a smile.God, I got hugged today more than in the last five years. I hope I’ll get another hug... the most important of them all...“I wasn’t actually going to work...” The woman says as she pulls back and barely looks at me.“Ok...” I trail off, confused about why she’s telling me this, and after she wipes the rest of her tears, she continues with a guilty voice and guilty eyes.“I switched shifts with a coworker, that’s why I wouldn’t have been able to spend Christmas at home... and today... now... I should have gone to... God...” She trails off as she looks away nervously, fidgeting with her hands, then she opens her mouth to continue, but nothing comes out, and she looks at me apologetically as if she’s sorry that she can’t finish the sentence.“You don’t have to tell me if--”“No. I want to. I want you to know what you did today...” I loo
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEWI rub my eyes to see if I’m seeing things, but the watch, money, and Santa's hat are still there, nicely placed on the seat. But to really be sure that the watch is mine, I turn it, and my eyes get even wider when I see my initials.J.J.Am I going crazy?But I know that I gave my watch and money to the homeless guy... but he was white... Santa was black... how?I get out of the car and run outside, even though I know that the possibility of seeing either of them is non-existent, but my brain needs answers. Logical answers, not fairy freaking answers.As expected, no one was there, or at least none of the men... with that thought, their eyes came into my mind. Cerulean green.But it can’t be... right? I mean, one was white and the other black... but the eyes... then the conversations...“I will, but first, I need to help someone that helped me.” Was the homeless guy talking about me?“I’ll make your biggest wish come true.” Santa’s voice echoes in my head over a
“You want to say how much he loved me,” I emphasize the word ‘loved’, and my heart stops again, my eyes land on Tristan, then I look back at Dee, hoping that he’ll contradict me.Is it possible that he still loves me?“J.J., he never touched anyone since then. I’m no doctor, but I think he developed a phobia because except for his kid, well, brother, his adoptive kid, who is Sean’s boyfriend, and me, he doesn’t even shake hands with anyone.” He explains, and I don’t even bother to hide the smile or the tears that are still rolling down my face to my neck, wetting my shirt.But Dee’s expression changed into a remorseful one as he continued talking.“I’m sorry... but it was so hard to see him crumble day by day, and after one year, I tried to convince him to try and get over you, go on dates, but I got myself a black eye. The second year, on my birthday, I managed t
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEWWe barely managed to carry him. Dee is way stronger than me, so he didn't have a problem, but I lost my breath, and my back hurt by the time we reached the destination. It's a decent-looking room that has a dark wooden table for six surrounded by six chairs, and a few feet away there’s a dark green sofa, where we lay him, and I, -unfortunately-, reluctantly let go of him, let go of his arm, which falls, touching the ground.For reasons I do not wish to discuss, I took his arm to place it on his broad chest, which moved as he breathed, and something got my attention.A tattoo that goes along the inside of his forearm.The date when we first met, when he rescued me from those bullies, is written in beautiful calligraphic numbers, which is followed by regular, strong heartbeats, then the date when I caught them together, but these numbers are ugly written and broken, and they are followed by erratic heartbeats which get further apart and smaller by every half an in
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW The pain I felt when I heard Dee's name can’t be put into words. My eyes haven’t stung like this since the day I caught them. My insides, which were already broken, feel like they are put in a blender, which destroys me all over again, this time even worse if that’s even possible. I see Dee, or a blurred image of him, fact that tells me that I’m about to cry, and I bite my cheek hard in order not to and focus on the pain and the metallic taste of blood that floods my mouth, then close my eyes shut for a second to push the tears away, and without wanting, my eyes land on him again, examining him, trying to see what he has that I don’t, trying to figure out why Tristan chose him. We look different, but he’s also black, just a darker shade than me, he has a buzz cut, he's taller than me and even Tristan, and bigger, he always was. He's about 6 ft 6 and has around three hundred pounds of muscle. Maybe
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW“Hello, sir, what can I help you with?” A tiny guy, not taller than 5 ft 6, and not heavier than 110 pounds, with brown curls that fall over his brown eyes, asks me with a smile on his freckled face.“I have a flat tire, and some warning light popped up on the dashboard. I have to drive to Massachusetts, and I don’t want to--” I don’t get to say what my problem is because the guy’s eyes went wide, and interrupted me with a squeal and a high-pitched tone of voice.“You’re Jamal Jones! The billionaire, with the apps and games!” He exclaims enthusiastically, and on a normal basis I wouldn’t mind talking to him, but I’m in New fucking Jersey, and every minute spent here means more chances to see them, and I already had more delays than I wished for.“Yes, I am. Now please, I’m in a hurry.” I plead, trying to remain polite and not blow up because the poor guy did nothing to me, but as I said... gotta get out of here.“Yes, sorry. Bring the car in, and we’ll take care
JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEWI make sure to take the route that’s the farthest from the ghettos because even though it’s snowing, and people wear hats and scarves to protect themselves from the cold wind and snow, I don’t want to drive around that place and risk seeing him, seeing them, and to be extra careful, I keep my eyes on the road, avoiding to look on the sidewalk or at other drivers, afraid that I’ll see them hand in hand... or...“God, I’ll go crazy here!” I exclaim as I realize just how paranoid I am, but still do not look around.The phone rings in the speakers of my car, and I see that it’s mom, but I’m not in the mood to talk to her right now, so I ignore it.Yes, she helped me tremendously during college, sending me at least five hundred dollars monthly, and giving me thirty thousand dollars when I finished so I could start my company, but that doesn’t mean that I forgot all those years of abuse, all the cold nights, the hunger, or the guys that she brought home, and some beat