It was Christmas Eve and Danny Jones and Lori Garcia sat together on their padded chairs at the Riverside Mennonite Church, their shoulders touching. It was the night of the annual Christmas program, which adults and children alike shared in. The chairs had been slid into a semi-circle so that everyone had a good view of the manger scene towards the back of the small stage in the middle of the room.
The church bought cheap land on the poor side of town in the 1960s, not long after it was officially organized. They built a simply constructed all-purpose room which continued to be, decades later, the heart of the church. Members of the church, many of them having found their way to Riverside from the farmlands of the San Joaquin Valley or the Midwest, went all out for the Christmas program. For Christmas Eve the entire room had been tastefully decorated with festive greenery, silver bows, and poinsettias. The advent wreath was beautiful with its four candles burning bright.
This was the church that had nurtured Danny when he was a boy. Riverside Mennonite held a Vacation Bible School every summer. Danny's parents split when he was very young and so his mom would send him to VBS as a way to help make it through the summer. That's where Danny met Mr. Hostetler and Mr. Karber, who gave him rides, taught his classes, and played catch with him. When he was in high school they taught his Sunday School class often embellishing the Bibles stories with their own special exegesis. They frequently made reference to their Voluntary Service days, recounting colorful tales of their varied experiences. Mr. Hostetler was especially fond of remembering, always with a twinkle in his eye, how it was in the VS unit house in Miami that he met Susan from Saskatchewan, who became his wife.
The room was dark and Lori leaned over to whisper in his ear, ``who is that?'' He noticed her hand brush the outside of his knee. Lori's fingernails were painted bright red, with specks of silver sprinkled in, like distant stars against a crimson sun, setting on the horizon. The impact was dazzling, each tiny silver dot so perfectly positioned. He wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, especially on a night like this, but he slid his hand into hers, their fingers interlocking. ``I think it's Bob Kraybill, the science teacher,'' he said.
He had known Lori for a long time, all the way back to high school. Her family owned a restaurant, El Sombrero Rojo, which was the classiest Mexican restaurant in town. Lori was working as a hostess the summer after they graduated from high school when he got a job as a busboy at the restaurant. He had no master plan, no grand scheme, but he did work hard cleaning tables. As he worked he couldn't help but notice Lori glide by, statuesque, her hair pulled back, her earrings dangling.
While bussing tables Danny was often within ear shot of Lori's mom. Mrs. Garcia loved to mingle with her customers, especially the regulars. She had the special gift of being able to find something interesting to talk about with everybody. If someone had just visited their children on the East Coast she was ready with stories from her trip to New York and Washington DC in the summer of 2004. If the conversation turned to sports she offered her opinion on the lack of an NFL team in Los Angeles. When the subject was education she could tell the heart-breaking story of how her parents began school not knowing a word of English. ``But it was the best thing that ever happened to them,'' she would often say, ``this bi-lingual education stuff doesn't really help kids at all!''
Danny's friends couldn't believe their ears when he told them he was hanging out with Lori Garcia after work. ``How can this be?'' they exclaimed as one. ``Look at her,'' they said, ``isn't she going to UCLA next year?'' they wondered. ``And you,'' his friends loved to pile it on, ``you look like you've been tanning in an icebox.''
Actually, it seemed to be true, everything they said. Lori breezed through UCLA, receiving her BA in business right on schedule, after four years. Danny, meanwhile, couldn't seem to find any direction. After four years he had barely finished junior college, and still wasn't sure what to major in. The last year he had gone to Dallas, Texas, where his dad had relocated. He took a few classes at a local junior college and worked some odd jobs. His favorite was a part-time job at a local community center. He was hired as an aide and spent most of time out on the playground supervising the kids. He didn't know what it was, but they seemed to like him. There were the black kids, all the Latinos, quite a few whites, a sprinkling of Asians, everyone was there, the entire rainbow. ``Danny, Danny,'' they would shout in their high-pitched voices, ``watch, me, please watch me!'' He would always watch, whoever it was, and then try to have something good to say. He loved those kids. Sometimes he thought he saw some of himself in them.
While he was in Texas he kept up with Lori, by phone, email and text messages. There was always this electricity between them even though, they both knew, they came from different worlds. They figured there was something special between them though they refused to try to define it.
It was probably Irma who threatened their relationship more than anyone else. Irma managed the community center. She was in her 40s, roundish, and passionately Latina. She worked every day to jog Danny's memory as to what he had learned in high school Spanish. She liked to call him her muchacho and she regaled him with stories of what the kids in the center, and beyond the walls of the community center, were going through.
She pushed him all the time. ``Learn about their families,'' she would say, ``and what their parents do.´ ``Ask them to read to you. Find out what they want to do when they get older. Try to see the world like they see it. Imagine what it would be like to be in their shoes. Really, Danny,'' she would often say, ``you've got to get inside of their heads.''
Irma forever took the side of her kids at the community center. To listen to Irma it seemed they could do no wrong. There were always forces out there, somewhere beyond, conspiring against them. The government was adding more regulations. The higher-ups were making them raise prices and some parents could not afford the higher rates. Salaries for the workers were stagnant, and this made Irma furious. She was forever angry at people she couldn't quite reach.
Danny felt Lori's thin, smooth fingers within his. He looked up and saw some familiar people, and some new ones too, move to the center of the church. They seemed a motley crew, and called themselves the Ragamuffins. The piano played a few bars and then they began to sing Mary's song, the Magnificat. A young woman sang a solo part, My soul is filled with joy, she said, putting to melody the words of Mary. They they all joined in on the chorus, and holy is your name through all generations they sang, the men arching their voices towards the high notes, the women folding their voices together, glancing at the music, then looking up and out into the dark room. Danny always marveled at how the people at Riverside Mennonite could sing in parts, and he found himself, as the song continued, more and more, lost in the words, and in the sincerity of the voices harmonizing as one.
Danny stole a glance at Lori. She was staring intently at the singers too, studying them. Danny listened carefully to the words. Then, late in the song, the young woman sang: To the hungry you give food, send the rich away empty.
In your mercy you are mindful of the people you have chosen. Danny felt something burning within. Yes, he found his soul crying out, breathing the words with the soprano. To the hungry you give food, send the rich away empty. Yes, a thousand times, yes, he found himself shouting inside, the words reverberating through his heart.
Danny looked at Lori again. He thought he saw a tear forming while the ensemble sang the chorus again: and holy is your name, through all generations! When it was all over Danny and Lori mingled with the people of the Riverside Mennonite Church. There were cookies, fruit, and coffee, more than enough for everyone. Mr. Hostetler, Mr. Karber, and Mr Kraybill, all made a point of greeting them. They asked him how he was doing and if he liked Texas. Searching for a way to include her, Mr. Karber told Lori how much he liked the carne asada at ElSombrero Rojo, but that his wife preferred the plain cheese enchiladas. She nodded politely and said she hoped to see him there in the near future.
``Are you still a hostess at the restaurant, now that you have your BA'' Mr. Kraybill asked.
``I still do that, but actually kind of everything because I'm part of the management team now,'' she answered.
``Wow, you must be busy. But you must be glad at least that you are done with school.''
``I guess I like to stay busy, and actually, I'm starting a MBA program at UCLA, but very part-time,'' she said.
``So what's next for you?'' Mr. Hostetler asked Danny. ``Oh, I've got some ideas,'' he said, not really wanting to talk about it.
``Well, keep us posted.''
``I'll be sure to do that.''
When it was all over at the church they decided to go to a coffee shop just around the corner from Lori's place. They ordered some hot drinks and found a place over in the corner that was relatively private. Lori tried to look into Danny's eyes. It seemed that something was going on there.
``How did you like the program?'' Danny finally asked, not really knowing how to start.
``It was beautiful, I thought. Your church is different, somehow, I can't quite put my finger on it.''
``They sure know how to sing, that's for sure, I don't know how they do it,'' Danny offered. ``I wish I could sing with them, but I can't so I just listen. It's beautiful.''
``The people are sort of different too, kind of simple in a way, but they are very nice,'' Lori said.
``Yeah, that's true,'' said Danny, remembering all the times Mr. Hostetler had given him a ride somewhere.
They sat silently, looking down at their coffee cups. Danny looked out the window, through the winter scene painted on the glass window. Outside, an older man was opening the car door for his wife. ``Why did it have to come to this,'' he thought to himself, especially on Christmas Eve.
While he was still in Texas he read an advice columnist who said that when you break-up with someone it is best to do so decisively and cleanly. Yes, it's going to hurt, but it's the best way. Danny didn't know if this could be defined precisely as a break-up, but he assumed the advice was solid. So he figured now was the moment.
``Lori,'' he began, ``I've got to tell you about what I'm thinking.''
``Sure, go ahead.''
``Well, you know, you are so good at everything you do, and I just haven't found my way yet, I guess. School doesn't seem to be it for me, so what I want to do is to go away for awhile, maybe for a couple of years. I talked to some people that Mr. Karber knew, he gave me a phone number a few years ago, and they found a place for me.''
``And where is that?'' Lori asked coldly.
``Actually, in Miami, just like Mr. Hostetler. I'm going to work at a welcome center for new immigrants. These people are really destitute, and, I don't know, I just want to throw myself into that world for awhile. I feel like if I go there I can really take their side. They've got a lot stacked against them.''
Danny couldn't look up.
``And when do you leave?''
``On January 6th.''
``So what am I supposed to make of this? Aren't there immigrants right here in Riverside?''
``Of course there are but I need, you know, to sort of find myself. I need some space, Lori, I need to get away from everything. It's like I'm feeling something inside of me, pushing me. I've got to obey that voice. I know that means I won't see you but, maybe it's best we just sort of, you know, let go.''
``So we are officially breaking-up, and this is where we say `let's just be friends,' right?''
``Ýeah, that's about it, I guess.''
And that was it. They didn't say another word to each other. In silence they split the tab fifty-fifty. They walked out the door and into the Christmas Eve night, going their separate ways.
A week later, on New Year's Eve, Danny saw a familiar name pop up in his in-box: Lori Garcia. His fingers shook as he double clicked on the message title, ``hello.'' It read.
Danny, This may be the last email you get from me. But I've been thinking and I have to tell you this. You can go to Miami and work with immigrants and all that is good. I've got no problem. Go ahead, ``obey the voice,'' as you say. But be careful what you think about me, and about my family, and about people like us. Don't think we have no heart, that we don't' care about immigrants and other people like that, people who don't have much. You don't know the half of it, Danny. You don't know what we've seen. You don't know how hard it is to be in our shoes. You really don't. Still, I wish you the best. Good luck. Lori.
On the first Sunday of January Danny went back to the Riverside Mennonite Church. During the sharing time he stood up and told everyone how he was going to Miami in VS. After he spoke there was applause, then first Mr. Karber, and then others, came over to him and gave him a hugs, one after the other. The pastor walked over and put her hand on his shoulder and prayed that God would bless him. The room was filled with joy.
Soon it was the 6th. Danny got all his belongings into one big duffle bag. His mom took him to the train station. He got in line, waiting to confirm his ticket. Returning to his mom he found Mr. Karber, Mr. Hostetler, and Mr Kraybill, all standing by his mom. They greeted him with hearty hugs and wished him well again.
``Be sure to keep us posted, they said, and God bless you.''
``Thanks, I'll be sure to do that.''
Then they walked away.
``You can go too, mom,'' Danny said.
``I'll just wait," she said, "I'm going to miss you.''
When it was time to board Danny said good-bye to his mom and began to walk towards the train.
That's when he saw her, over to the side, a bag over her shoulder. She stepped out of the crowd towards him.
``Hi Danny,'' she said.
``Hi Lori,'' he answered.
``Here's something to eat on the train, it should stay warm,'' she said.
He noticed her fingernails were painted a deep purple as she handed him the bag from El Sombrero Rojo.
``Thanks, Lori,'' this means a lot to me, his voice starting to crack.
``I wanted to do it,'' she said, touching his elbow lightly.
Then she turned to walk away. He watched her. She took a few steps then turned, a slight smile on her face.
