The Past I part 1

The Past I
part 1

December 18, 1981

The snow was lightly falling as Dan Mangan trudged home on the last day of school before Christmas break. He carried his book bag over his left shoulder, and had both hands deep in the pockets of his down jacket. His dark head was bare, and his breath steamed as he moved around the other pedestrians. New York City rule number one: Be alert. Rule number two: Never make eye contact. He hung a left, and moved down a less crowded street toward the brownstone apartment where he and his mother had lived for the last nine months.

Ducking around the plastic reindeer which guarded the steps leading to the front door, Dan entered the back yard and retrieved his door key from the chain around his neck. Letting himself in through the back entrance, he wiped his feet and hung his bag and jacket on the hallway hooks before entering the apartment.

He could hear his mother’s sweet voice singing,

“The holly green, the ivy green
The prettiest picture you've ever seen
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home

It's nice, you know, to kiss your beau
While cuddling under the mistletoe
And Santa Claus you know, of course
Is one of the boys from home

The door is always open
The neighbors pay a call
And Father John before he's gone
Will bless the house and all

How grand it feels to click your heels
And join in the fun of the jigs and reels
I'm handing you no blarney
The likes you've never known
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home”

“Mum,” he called. “I’m home.”

“In here, Danny.” The answering voice came from the living area. Dan entered and saw his mother sitting in her wheelchair. Her long red hair was braided in a single plait and hung over her shoulder. She was wearing a dark green velour robe, and her bright blue-green eyes lit up as he walked in the room.

He knelt at her side and kissed her cheek. “You look pretty today,” he said. “I like this robe.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She smiled. “I’m rather fond of it myself. How was school?”

“Dull.” Dan shrugged and gave his mother a lopsided grin. “But at least there wasn’t any homework. Now I have two whole weeks of freedom.”

“Do we still have a date for Boxing Day?” Saraid Mangan ran a frail hand through her son’s thick hair.

“Skating at Rockefeller Center.” Dan leaned his head against her knee. “I’m up for it, but only if it’s not too much for you.”

Saraid smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be skating this year, but I’m up to sitting all bundled in my chair and watching you skate. Kelly has agreed to come along as my nurse, and I was thinking that maybe we could invite our new neighbor.”

“Kelly’s fine,” Dan said, wrinkling his nose. “Shirley’s the one I don’t like.” His mother’s words registered and he asked, “We have a new neighbor?”

“Upstairs,” Saraid confirmed. “Mrs. Kawolski has a new foster child; a girl, about your age. Tina, Theresa, something like that. Poor child lost her mother a few days ago. I’d like to do something to make her feel...welcome.”

“Does she know how to skate?” Dan asked.

“I really don’t know,” his mother answered. “I only met her briefly. She was polite, but very quiet. Then Archie came caterwauling by and Mrs. K took the child back upstairs.” Saraid scowled in distaste at the memory of her landlady’s loudmouthed son. Dan mirrored her disdain with his own scowl.

“I don’t know how someone as nice as Mrs. K can have such a creep for a son,” Dan stated.

“I agree.” Saraid stifled a yawn. “I’m getting tired, Danny, my boy. Shirley the Hun should be here any minute. Would you mind helping me into bed?”

“Sure, Mum.” Dan pushed the chair into his mother’s bedroom, and helped her into the hospital bed. Arranging the blankets so she was tucked in securely, he said, “I wish we could get rid of Shirley. The other nurses have been great, but she...she kinda creeps me out. Half the time she’s late, and she’s always looking at me funny.”

“I’ve noticed,” Saraid sighed. “I’ve spoken to the service, but right now she’s the only one available for the 4 to 12 shift. They’ve promised to replace her as soon as someone else is available.” She squeezed Dan’s hand. “Now why don’t you go up and meet the new neighbor while I have a nap.”

Dan squeezed back, and tenderly kissed his mother’s cheek. It was hard to see her so weak. It hurt to watch her dying, wondering what he would do after she was gone. He felt tears well up in his eyes, and turned away before she noticed. He left her to her nap.

Dan took the back stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs he turned to the right, passed through the arch and into Mrs. Kawolski’s painfully bright yellow dining room. Following his nose, he sniffed his way into the kitchen. Sure enough, a tray of peanut butter cookies sat cooling on the stove. He contemplated snitching one, but good manners won out over hunger.

“Mrs. K?” he called. “Mrs. K!”

Paula Kawolski poked her dyed red head into the kitchen. “Danny!” she exclaimed. “Grab yourself a snack and come meet Tessa.”

Dan followed her instructions, helping himself to two cookies and a glass of milk before taking himself into what Mrs. K called the “lounge”. It had once been the sitting room, long ago before the brownstone had been broken into three apartments. Now it served as the central, communal living space. The television, stereo, desk and comfortable furniture situated near a cozy fireplace made an inviting area shared by the owner and her tenants.

Currently, a girl with long sun-streaked brown braids occupied Dan’s favorite overstuffed chair. She was curled up in the chair, a cookie in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other. She looked at Dan cautiously. Not afraid, exactly; more as if she were uncertain. Dan suddenly felt an overwhelming need to reassure this unknown girl. It took him by surprise, and he smiled and moved toward her.

Mrs. Kawolski hastened over to introduce them. “Dan, this is my new foster daughter, Tessa Hart. Tessa, this is Dan. He and his mother live downstairs.” She bustled toward the kitchen. “You two get acquainted while I start supper.”

The girl, Tessa, set down her cup and cookie and rose from the chair, extending her hand and asking, “The pretty lady downstairs is your mother?”

“Yes.” Dan shifted his snack and took the hand gently. She had a strong grip for someone who appeared so fragile. “I guess that makes us neighbors.”

“Have you lived here long?” Tessa let go his hand and sat down in the chair.

Dan sat down on the ottoman. “About nine months. Before that we lived for a couple of years in what my mum calls a ‘less desirable neighborhood’. Before that we lived in base housing.”

“Base housing?”

“Yeah. My dad was a soldier.” Dan smiled a little. “We lived in Texas, California and Germany, too. But we lived here in New York from the time I was nine.”

“Where’s your dad now?” Tessa asked.

Dan’s smile faded. “In a cemetery in New Jersey.” He explained, “He was killed while on assignment in Korea almost three years ago. Car blew up.”

“Oh.” Tessa fell silent. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I know from experience how little that helps.” She looked at her empty teacup.

“Yeah. Mum said your mother died recently.”

“Nine days ago.” Tess lifted her eyes to his. They were an odd mix of golden brown and streaky green. “My family seems to have bad luck with cars. My dad, grandma and older brother were killed last summer in a car accident, and my Mom got run over by a taxicab. Nine days ago.” Tears glinted, but did not fall.

It was Dan’s turn to be at a loss for words. He stared at her face, struggling for something to say, and then blurted, “Do you know how to ice skate?”

Startled by the sudden change of subject, Tessa laughed. “Not really,” she said. “I live in Hawaii, and there isn’t a lot of ice. I know how to roller skate, roller blade and surf though. Why?”

Dan blushed. “Mum and I go every year to the rink at Rockefeller Center. We used to go as a family, the day after Christmas. Boxing Day, Mum calls it. It’s our family tradition. We kept doing it even after...after Dad died. We thought maybe you’d like to come with us this year.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Tessa asked. “I mean, you and your mom seem really nice and all, but we just met. Do you really want a stranger butting in on your tradition?”

“Yes.” Dan was a bit surprised at how forcefully the word came forth. “Look,” he said. “This will probably be the last time Mum and I do this. It would be nice to have someone along to...” he paused, searching for the words, “...someone who could help me remember.”

“Your mother is very sick, isn’t she?” Tessa’s voice was quiet.

“She’s dying.” Dan said the words with little emotion. He had to practice in front of the bathroom mirror for days before he could say the words without wanting to scream with rage and pain. “She only has a few weeks left.”

Tessa reached out and touched his hand. “That must be hard for you, knowing and not being able to change anything.”

Dan felt hot tears flash behind his eyelids. His carefully controlled emotions roiled behind the wall he had built--a wall this girl he’d barely met had managed to breach with a touch and a few words of honest understanding. He averted his gaze and blinked hard.

“Yeah.” His voice felt raspy. He took a deep breath and continued, “Yeah. It’s tough, but at least this time I have the chance to say goodbye.”

This time it was the girl’s eyes that filled. Dan noticed the tears spilling down her cheeks, and panicked. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t cry. Whatever I said, I’m sorry!”

“You didn’t say anything wrong.” Tessa wiped at her face. “What you said was right. It would have been nice to say goodbye. I didn’t get the chance. Not once.”

“That’s tough.” Dan patted the hand that was still atop his. They sat there, touching but not speaking for several minutes. Finally, Dan broke the silence. “So, do you want to come skating with Mum and me?”

“I’d like that very much.” Tessa squeezed his hand and removed her own. “If you’re sure I won’t be intruding, and if my uncle hasn’t come for me yet.”

“Your uncle?” Dan asked.

“Yes. My Uncle Andy. He’s my mom’s younger brother. I only met him a month ago, but he’s my only known relative on the mainland. I mean, he’s the only one I know. The problem is, no one seems to know where he is right now. The last time I saw him was Thanksgiving weekend. In Chicago.”

“I know what you mean.” Dan leaned toward her. “This is so weird. I only have one relative left, too. My mom’s little brother, my Uncle Liam. The problem is, she hasn’t seen him in twelve years.”

“Twelve years is a long time.” Tessa grinned. “It sounds like quite a story.”

Dan couldn’t help but return her grin. “I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. I’d love to hear about Hawaii, and how you got all the way to New York.”

Tessa held out her hand again. “It’s a deal. But you go first.”

Dan shook her hand and said, “Deal. You see, my Mum lost her parents when she was thirteen. She and her two brothers--her older brother, Denny, was fifteen, and Liam, the baby was almost four--went to this Catholic Children’s Home...”

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