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“It’s wonderful how people help each other during the holiday season. Now why can’t it be like this all year round? You did a wonderful thing helping this injured man, do you know that?” The woman glared at Tanya with bulbous eyes. Her voice reached above the dull drone of the busy shopping area. Tanya opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a waspish, small individual who joined their tight little group. “What happened, is someone hurt?” asked the thin elderly woman. “Why don’t you call the manager.” She spoke in a quick, staccato manner. “You should really have that hand taken care of,” the fat woman yelled at the man, who dumbfoundedly stared from his wrapped finger to the round face of the speaker. “What’s going on? You people can’t form a club here, other people wanna look at the merchandise too!” A tall, hefty woman pushed her way into the group. “Hey, mister, you got a problem?” she addressed herself to the man with the tissued finger. “He’s got an injury and this lady helped him. Isn’t this the real spirit of Christmas?” The fat woman gushed with enthusiasm. “An injury? My God, he don’t look so good. Did anyone call an ambulance?” The hefty woman looked over the heads of the group as if one was standing just to the side. At this point Tanya started to shake her head. She wanted to explain that this was all nothing, but she could hardly move, being backed against the shelves and confronted with the growing group of curious onlookers. She heard words such as “kindness”, “helpful”, “goodness”, mingled with phrases like “good Samaritan” and “Christmas spirit” thrown around the eag erly chatting group. Bewildered, Tanya sought to locate the man with the hurt finger. He too, was backed against some shelves, surrounded by curious women. Don’t go away, we'll call the manager and he’ll help the poor guy,” the fat woman again confronted Tanya. “Don’t go away, they should know that you’re a good person and you really showed what the holiday spirit is all about." The fat woman wheezed and her face got red with the effort of such enthusiasm. “Please ladies, ladies,” the man with the tissue-wrapped finger raised his voice. “I’m not injured, it’s just a little cut and the young woman there was kind enough to give me a tissue. Nothing serious happened. I’m fine. Please, ladies, I’m okay.” The group fell silent, and the busy hum of the store reminded them of reality, perhaps of disappointment. The man searched out Tanya and smiled at her. In a victory sign he waved his injured finger in her direction and eased himself away from the group. “Thank God it was nothing serious,” the shrewish, small woman said. “Well, back to shopping. Have a Merry Christmas everyone.” She smiled and propelled herself toward a rack of ties. The rest of the group responded with a return greeting, and the echo of “Merry Christmas” seemed to bounce over the heads of the shoppers adding a special luster and brilliance to the splendid decorations. Tanya blinked her eyes and somehow she sensed a change, yet nothing really had changed. The hustle, the bustle, the pushing and shoving, the craziness of last minute shop ping was still there, and yet, something had changed. Nothing had been taken away, but something had been added. Tanya felt a need to linger. “Merry Christmas,” she said to the fat woman, who still stood near her. The woman smiled, her eyes hiding in the folds of her brow and rising cheeks. “Have a very nice holiday, honey,” she spoke softly and touched Tanya’s arm. “Thank you, same to you,” replied Tanya very graciously and covered the woman’s hand with her own. She stood for a moment contemplating the change which she realized was within her. Then peacefully and with great care she proceeded to choose a shirt and a tie for her brother-in-law John. MARTA BACZYNSKY "НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ГРУДЕНЬ 1986 29
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