Took my breath away

CHAPTER-13

We'll have a small tree and a few gifts-something that all of them

can share. "You're welcome to visit Christmas Eve. . . ."

After we said our good-byes, Amelia and I walked in silence

without saying anything. I could tell she was sad. The more I hung

around Amelia, the more I realized she had lots of different

emotions-she wasn't always cheerful and happy. Believe it or not,

that was the first time I recognized that in some ways she was

just like the rest of us.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," I said softly.

"I am, too."

She had that faraway look in her eyes again, and it was a moment

before she went on.

"I just wanted to do something different for them this year.

Something special that they would remember forever. I thought

for sure this was it. . . ." She sighed. "The Lord seems to have a

plan that I just don't know about yet."

She was quiet for a long time, and I looked at her. Seeing Amelia

feeling bad was almost worse than feeling bad because of her.

Unlike Amelia, I deserved to feel bad about myself-I knew what

kind of person I was. But with her . . .

"While we're here, do you want to stop in to see the kids?" I asked

into the silence. It was the only thing I could think to do that

might make her feel better. "I could wait out here while you talk

to them, or go to the car if you want."

"Would you visit them with me?" she asked suddenly.

To be honest, I wasn't sure I could handle it, but I knew she really

wanted me there. And she was feeling so down that the words

came out automatically.

"Sure, I'll go."

"They'll be in the rec room now. That's where they usually are at

this time," she said.

We walked down the corridors to the end of the hall, where two

doors opened into a good-size room. Perched in the far corner

was a small television with about thirty metal folding chairs

placed all around it. The kids were sitting in the chairs, crowded

around it, and you could tell that only the ones in the front row

had a good view of the thing.

I glanced around. In the corner was an old Ping-Pong table. The

surface was cracked and dusty, the net nowhere to be seen. A

couple of empty Styrofoam cups sat on top of it, and I knew it

hadn't been used in months, maybe years. Along the wall next to

the Ping-Pong table were a set of shelves, with a few toys here

and there-blocks and puzzles, a couple of games. There weren't

too many, and the few that were there looked as if they'd been in

this room for a long time. Along the near walls were small

individual desks piled with newspapers, scribbled on with

crayons.

We stood in the doorway for just a second. We hadn't been

noticed yet, and I asked what the newspapers were for.

"They don't have coloring books," she whispered, "so they use

newspapers." She didn't look at me as she spoke-instead her

attention was directed at the kids. She'd begun to smile again.

"Are these all the toys they have?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes, except for the stuffed animals. They're allowed

to keep those in their rooms. This is where the rest of the things

are kept."

I guess she was used to it. To me, though, the sparseness of the

room made the whole thing depressing. I couldn't imagine

growing up in a place like this.

Amelia and I finally walked into the room, and one of the kids

turned around at the sound of our steps. He was about eight or

so, with red hair and freckles, his two front teeth missing.

"AMELIA!" he shouted happily when he saw her, and all of a sudden

all the other heads turned. The kids ranged in age from about five to twelve, more boys than girls. After twelve they had to be sent

to live with foster parents, I later learned.

"Hey, Roger," Amelia said in response, "how are you?"

With that, Roger and some of the others began to crowd around

us. A few of the other kids ignored us and moved closer to the

television now that there were free seats in the front row. Amelia

introduced me to one of the older kids who'd come up and asked

if I was her boyfriend. By his tone, I think that he had the same

opinion of Amelia that most of the kids in our high school had.

"He's just a friend," she said. "But he's very nice."

Over the next hour, we visited with the children. I got a lot of

questions about where I lived and whether my house was big or

what kind of car I owned, and when we finally had to leave, Amelia

promised that she'd be back soon. I noticed that she didn't

promise I would be with her. While we were walking back to the

car, I said, "They're a nice bunch of kids." I shrugged awkwardly.

"I'm glad that you want to help them."

Amelia turned to me and smiled. She knew there wasn't much to

add after that, but I could tell she was still wondering what she

was going to do for them that Christmas.

Afterall our show was near the corner and after that there won't be much time to prepare something big for the children.