"The Christmas Wish"

Chapter 2
Summer

Screeching his car to a halt, Daniel leapt out onto the pavement, cursing under his breath. The air was heavy and metallic from the evening’s drizzle as it steamed off the asphalt. He had accidently left his gym bag and apartment keys behind in the martial arts academy, and had been forced to wade thru a mile-long traffic jam to get back. Storming inside, he nearly missed the desultory small figure hugging his knees by the entrance.

“Tommy! It’s 8:30pm! What are you still doing here?”

“My pick-up didn’t come.” He looked utterly miserable.

“Do you want to borrow my phone to call your parents?”

“No, I already called. It’s okay, Master Feng will send me back later. She’s done it before.”

“But Master Feng gives private lessons until 10:30pm!” Daniel stared at the boy incredulously. “Look, I’ll give you a lift home tonight. Okay?”

Tommy dithered for a moment, then nodded and rose to his feet. “Thank you.” he said quietly.

They scrambled into the car, and Daniel meticulously keyed the destination address into his navigation system. “Oh…” he scratched his head absently as he turned back to Tommy. “Have you had your dinner?”

“No.”

“Let’s go get something to eat first then. What would you like?”

“Japanese.”

“What?! Are you sure?” Daniel stared at him in surprise.

“Yes. Is it okay with you?”

“Well, it is my favorite, but…” Daniel paused. He had been to nearly every Japanese restaurant in town multiple times, but had rarely seen any kids. He shuddered as he imagined ketchup being smothered on sushi. “Tommy, have you ever tried Japanese food before?”

“Well… I’ve seen it on TV. But I know I’ll like it.” he replied confidently.

Daniel shrugged and pulled his car out of the lot. I guess there must be something on the menu that’s kid friendly, he thought as he drove to one of his regular places. It was late, and most of the customers were slouched over the sushi bar nursing beers and chomping fried bits on a stick. They sat at a table and Tommy enthusiastically scanned the menu. “I want that one.” he pointed.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “That is a large bowl of rice topped with raw fish slices. Maybe you want to try the fried shrimp instead? Or the avocado roll?”

“No, I want that.” the boy insisted, and Daniel placed the order with some trepidation. I’ll just have to eat it myself if he won’t touch it, he thought to himself. But his worries were unfounded – when the food arrived, Tommy practically inhaled everything in front of him. His spirits lifted and he started to chat animatedly, sharing stories about his friends at elementary school, how proud he was about beating an older kid at basketball, the slimy banana slug he had seen on a field trip, his list of favorite mobile phone games, and on and on and on.

Daniel was enthralled – it was all very charming and he unexpectedly found himself thoroughly enjoying the boy’s company. Only a quick glance at his watch roused him from his trance, and he hurriedly paid and they clambered back into the car.

Tommy fell silent as they resumed their journey. The car wound thru a part of town that Daniel wasn’t familiar with, passing used car lots dotted with rusting hulks, derelict buildings with boarded up shopfronts, and the occasional tattoo parlor or payday loan center with neon lights blinking forlornly in the windows. Finally, they veered off onto a side road past a trailer park and continued down in pitch darkness until the navigation system alerted them to a gravel driveway hidden amidst a row of trees. Turning in and bouncing alarmingly over ankle-deep ruts, they finally lurched to a stop in front of a dimly lit porch.

A lady wearing butterfly glasses opened the door. Tommy immediately slunk in behind her and vanished down the corridor. “Are you Tommy’s mum?” Daniel asked.

“Are you a social worker?” she glared, taking him aback.

“No, I go to the same martial arts school that Tommy does.”

“Well, thanks for driving him back.” The door creaked shut and the woman’s footsteps faded away.

Climbing back into his car, Daniel reversed out of the driveway, and his headlights swept over a small weather-beaten sign at the entrance that he hadn’t noticed earlier. In faded Victorian lettering, it read “Rosewood Children’s Home”.