A Christmas Miracle

Christine Cacciatore

“It’s his fault, you know,” Ronni proclaimed.

“What’s his fault, exactly? The divorce? Or the fact that he stopped paying child support?” Candace Mahoney juggled her three year old son and her purse.

“How about both?”

The two young women laughed.

“I like both. Both is good.”  Candace kissed little Ben on the cheek.  “But even if I can’t blame my job loss on him, Christmas is going to be rough.  Not to mention that big heating bill’s coming up. How could one tiny apartment generate such a high bill?”

 “I’m keeping him in daycare with you, Ronni.  Next to me, you’re the most stable thing he’s got.  I’ll find a job soon, and I’ll still have my spot.”  They said their goodbyes for the night. 

Candace did have a tiny bit of money set aside.  It would be helpful if her ex would pay child support, though.  He bounced from job to job.  The second he knew his pay was being garnished for child support; he’d quit and find a new one. 

A prince among men, that one.   What she needed was a Christmas miracle.

***

“That’ll be $15.21.”

Gah.  Well, she had to have milk. And laundry soap. And toilet paper, for God’s sake.  She handed over the cash.  It left her just enough to put gas in her car—guess she and Ben would be eating at her mother’s house this week for dinner.

Candace put away the meager supplies when they got home.  After their light supper Ben played in her room with his toy cash register as Candace cleaned her closet out.  She was making a pile of what could go to the consignment shop.  She figured while she waited on responses from the slew of resumes she had sent out, she could sell some of her unused clothing, accessories and shoes; perhaps she could make a few dollars that way.

With a sigh, she tossed a dressy gold lame’ dress on the “to go” pile.  She thought for a minute, fingered the material, and then grabbed it back out of the pile.

No, she thought.  It’s the one thing I have in my closet that I would wear if I ever go on a date.

As an out -of-work single mother, she wasn’t quite date material.

But she could feel attractive, right?

Grabbing the dress, she said, “BenBen, Mommy’s going to try this dress on, ok? I’ll be right back.  Just keep playing with your toys.”

“I’m playing bank, mommy.”

“I know,” she called from the bathroom.  She shucked off her flannel shirt and leggings and slid the thin gold dress over her head.