Chris Mysz

Chris Mysz stood transfixed by the chaotic beauty of the bustling street as people were either heading this way or that in search of last minute Christmas gifts; it was Christmas eve and the last minute preparations for jolly old St. Nick’s visit were reaching their apex. Chris enjoyed the view. He knew that tensions were running high, and frustration was the only course on the menu but, and of this he was sure, when everybody was asleep, and they’ve rid themselves of all that stress, that fat man would come and leave a little reason to smile.

Smiles are contagious, his mother told him when he was younger, but frowns are twice as contagious; so he smiled all day, every day-no matter the situation. This philosophy garnered him odd looks and the occasional concerned brow, but for the most part, his smile spread. Even now, as he stood on the corner of this busy street being lightly sprinkled by the new snow, his small frame aglow from the abundant ambient lighting, his little, dry and cracked lips wore his loving smile, and he offered this simple gift to everybody.

A glowing clock on display in one of the many stores warned him to hurry off, he was en route to the library for their Christmas story time; he never missed it. Not once in his short eight years had he ever missed it. He wasn’t far, so he began to jog off.

He could see his mother jogging right beside him. Well, her spirit at least, she had gone off to heaven a couple of years ago. Her body was gone, but her spirit was with him, jogging along to catch the story time. It was his mother who took him every year, and since she passed away, it was her spirit that kept him warm along the journey, and he was convinced that she cleared the path as well. It was always a clean walk from his house to the library.

He turned the corner and the library seemed to grow out of the ground to tower over everybody. He loved this effect, as far back as he could remember, this was his favorite part of the journey. His father had told him it was a trick of the eye; the building was always there, but the hill, and the buildings which blocked it from the street all made it seem to grow. His mother whispered in his ear right after that, “It’s a magical building; your father just won’t admit it.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him tight. Chris preferred the magical building theory. He had slowed his pace after the magical corner and could feel his mother’s arms wrapped around him. He continued his way to the library.

The stone facade of the library was glowing from the lights in the windows, and wreaths adorned the spaces in between those gigantic windows. There were a few kids in the courtyard running around and playing as their parents lined the stone staircase pleading them to come in. This made Chris smile, it was exactly the same scene every time, only the faces changed. He slowed his pace some more, and was now barely walking. As he got closer to the stairs, the other kids noticed him. He was wearing a tattered coat that he had found a couple of months back. It was black and red, and the stuffing was slowly making its way out. A skull cap that was way too large for his small head was wrapped up several times so it would fit. He was wearing several pairs of pants, but each had a rip or tear, so it gave the impression that he was wearing a rodeo clowns overalls. His boots were the only articles of clothing that were new, and that was thanks to the Salvation Army’s drop off bin.

Last year the looks gave him a scare, but he had a year to grow accustomed to them. Chris simply smiled, and continued at his slow pace towards the stairs. The stairs were almost completely full, but with the advantage of being little, Chris wiggled his way past the smokers and found the entrance to the library. As he entered the foyer, a security officer grabbed him by the shoulder. Shocked, Chris looked back. He didn’t know this security guard. He knew the rest of the officers who worked here, but this guy was new. Chris smiled at him, but the only response was a huff, and a frown. The officer was white, and had a reddish mustache that seemed to be consuming his upper lip. The officers ruddy cheeks were coated with quarter inch of stubble.

Chris maintained his smile, and the officer maintained his frown.

With his hand still on Chris’s shoulder, the unnamed officer brought him to the doorway and stopped in front of an older lady. The lady was wearing a large, red, cashmere coat that covered her from neck to ankle. She had long jet-black hair that seemed to sparkle, and a pair of large Dolce & Gabbana glasses rested awkwardly on her aquiline nose. Chris smiled at her. She put her hand on her hip and tucked her chin into her chest. “Huh,” she puffed out, “Give it back, and I won’t have them arrest you.”

She said it as if she knew he had whatever “it” was, and so this confused Chris. He looked back at the officer, then quickly back to the lady.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I don’t have anything.” Chris felt the officer squeeze his shoulder as he finished talking, but he maintained his smile.

The lady leaned down and removed her glasses with speed and with an angry look across her face said; “Look Oliver; that watch you took is worth more than your little life, so give it back.”

“Oh,” Chris started in a moment of realization, “I’m Chris, not Oliver. I can help you find...”

“Just search him.” she interrupted him, “And then call the Police and have him put in jail.”

“Arms up!” barked the security officer. All of these angry voices at once scared Chris, and he felt he was in danger of losing his smile when suddenly another hand grabbed his shoulder; only this hand was attached to a friendly voice.

“Hey, Chris, what’s all this?”

Chris turned around and saw Jose, one of the security guards he knew. Upon seeing a friendly face, his smile regained its original luster.

“This little punk stole this lady’s watch.” said the unnamed officer.

“Chris? Stealing a watch? Nah, that’s impossible.” he said as he wrapped his arm Chris’s shoulder, “This kid’s about as good as they come.”

“Yeah, he’s good, he’s a good thief.” replied the unnamed officer.

Jose, unfazed by that remark, simply began his investigation.

“So when did Chris steal your watch?” he asked the lady.

“Well, I was outside, on your entryway having a cigarette when this little thief came rushing past me. He had bumped into me, and that’s when I decided to check my pockets and such.”

“Are you sure you had your watch on?”

Chris was watching this exchange, and listening closely to every word they said.

“Yes, moments before Oliver here bumped into me, I checked the time. I didn’t want to be late to the meeting.”

“What kinda watch is this?”

“It’s a 17th century, eighteen carat gold Waltham pocket watch.” She replied with her hands palm up as if displaying the watch

“And where were you on the entryway?”

“I was a couple of feet from the door, close to the handicap ramp.”

Chris had been paying attention, but the watch had him confused, so he spoke up.

“What’s a pocket watch?” he blurted out.

“It’s a watch that has a case and has a chain attached to it. They’re pretty fancy.” Jose answered him.

“A chain? I think I know where her watch is!” he said as he began to bounce up and down. Jose grabbed him and calmed him down.

“How do you know where it is, buddy?”

“The railing! It always grabs my keys if I run past it, I bet it took her fancy watch as well.”

Jose got up and asked the lady to accompany him to check. Chris stayed inside with the still nameless officer. When they returned, the lady looked ashamed of herself, and Jose had snow on his knees. Jose walked right up to Chris with his hand out. Chris shook it with a smile.

“Fine work Officer Chris; you’ll be better than Dupin in no time.”

The lady wrapped the chain around her hand and with the watch dangling; she kneeled in front of Chris:

“Young man, I’m terribly sorry for my accusations. I’d like to thank you. You see, this watch has been in my family for a very long time, and I guess when I lost it, and then saw you scurrying off, I forgot my manners. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Chris maintained his smile. “I’m glad you got your watch back, and I hope you can find Oliver. But I really want to get to the story time, okay”

“Of course you do, go on young man, enjoy.”

And with that, Chris took off in the direction of the stairs that lead further down into the library, down into the Kids Corner.

He sat down on the floor, he was a lot further from the readers than usual, but he also never had to solve a mystery before, so the bad seat was worth it this time. There was somebody reading the “The Grinch who Stole Christmas” in the front, so Chris began his ritualistic zone out. That was what he did here every story time; he would zone out to the words and try not to think of everything around him.

Chris didn’t want to remember the way his mother looked on that hospital bed, it wasn’t her. His parents had been in an accident. His father was driving, and he’d been drinking. Chris was left at his neighbor’s house. The accident was pretty bad, and the trauma to his mother’s head had caused her brain to swell, which in turn, caused her face to swell. When Chris was taken to her bedside, he refused to believe that she was his mother. But even on the hospital bed, his mother wore a smile. He refused to believe it was her, but in his heart he knew it was. They kept her on life support for a month, and for that whole month, Chris would bring a book to her bedside, and even though he couldn’t read, he tried as best he could. He did this every day, and with his unshakable smile, he quickly became a favorite of all the nurses. On occasion, the nurses would read the books he brought in, and some nurses would bring in books from their own homes just to read to him. When they pulled the plug on his mother, Chris waved goodbye to his mother, and smiled. One of the nurses knelt down beside him and asked; “How can you smile, aren’t you going to miss her?”

Chris wiped a tear away from his eye. He grabbed the nurse’s hand with his small, clammy hand, and with a smile, replied; “I missed her for a month. I think she’s with god, so I smile.”

The nurse looked over for the father, she was afraid she would break down crying. She saw him standing by the window with an odd look in his eyes.

Chris’s father took the accident and her death too hard.

With his mother’s passing, Chris was left on his own. It was a difficult two years as his father was consistently drunk, drinking away his wife’s insurance money. Chris watched his father collapse, and after a few months of trying to keep him happy, Chris saw it was better simply to stay out of his way. For the poor, food is often available, but for a kid, it’s that much easier. School was set-up before his mother died, so Chris had only to show up and learn. Such a self-maintaining educational system kept Chris fed during the school year, and in summer, food was free at the park. Clothing was always available at the food pantry and such, so as Chris outgrew his clothes, the people at the pantry gave him new garb. Chris had no use for a father, which was a good thing since his father had no use for a son.

As Chris grew up in this environment, one would imagine he would become jaded, and adopt a tough exterior, alas, Chris had no use for that. The nurses were always kind to him at the hospital and having that natural maternal instinct, they would scold him when needed, and praise him when needed. Then, when he found the food pantry, the people who worked there quickly took to his kind disposition and the ladies played the role of mother, while the men who worked there played his makeshift father. The advantage of this place was, everybody who worked here did so out of love for the community, and kind work tends to attract kind people. After a while of Chris’s visits at the pantry, they asked him if he would like to help out, to which he quickly agreed. This built up his work ethic, and taught him some discipline. They would help him with his homework, and one of the guys took to teaching Chris baseball. Yes, here, he had no use for his father.

Another home he had was the library. This was his favorite place because he had the luxuries here that most of his classmates had. He had access to the internet, movies, and all the books he could read. The librarians, and the security officers, as well as volunteers, were all quickly attracted to him, and thus another makeshift family was born.

This was Chris, living solely on the good in the world, and smiling the whole way through.

Story time was over, and Chris had enjoyed every minute of it. As he left, he said goodbye to everybody working, and they wished him a Merry Christmas. When he got outside, he looked for his house key, but he couldn’t find it. He checked behind the railing, but it wasn’t there either. He searched the courtyard for his keys, but nothing. Maybe, he thought, they were inside, but as he looked back, the lights were out. Oh well, it was still early, so maybe when he got home, his father would still be awake.

Chris headed home, out the courtyard, and up the hill. He walked past one of his mother’s old friends, who offered him some hot chocolate and a cookie. He took the cookie, but said he had to get home, so he passed on the hot chocolate. She sent him off with a cookie and a kiss. He continued his way home making it downtown. All the stores were closed, and the street was empty, but this seemed to magnify the beauty of the season. He slowed his pace so he could absorb the luminescent street. The glow was giving all of the snowflakes a strange little aura. Chris tried to catch a few flakes on his tongue. He walked past a window that was filled with toys. He looked at some of them, but decided he shouldn’t. He made it home, but the knocks he gave the door remained unanswered. He banged on the door, but still nothing. There was a gas meter under the only window into his apartment, so he thought it worth a chance. He stepped on the gas meter, and tried to open the window, but it was locked. He could see his father passed out on the floor. He banged on the window, but nothing. He went around to the back door, hoping his father might have left it unlocked, but again, no luck. There was no window in the back, but there was a flue pipe sticking out. Chris put his hand on it, and could feel the warm air. Out of options, he decided to sleep under the flue pipe and worry about getting in tomorrow.

He decided to lie down on the dirt and placed his face right in front of the pipe. The dirt underneath his face was still warm. As Chris laid there in the dirt, tucked into himself for warmth, and the flue pipes warm breath blowing gently on his cheek, he thought of his mother’s smile. Lately, it seemed that her face was losing definition; the smile was there, but the rest of her features were fading. He wished he could see her again, although he knew he couldn’t. He wished he knew his father, who was simply a stranger he lived with now. He looked up into the sky and saw a shooting star streaking its way across the dark canvas; he made his wish, to see his mother again. He quickly grew tired, and very soon, he drifted off to sleep with a big smile across his lips; even the black hand of death was incapable of stealing away his smile.