Blossom

Christmas can be murder

When Norman Pierce reached the Upper East Side well after midnight, the streets were practically deserted, except for the occasional couple that passed by arm in arm, and a few loners in need of some fresh air and a little solitude, despite the bitter winter chill….Red tinsel had been playfully strewn around nearby lampposts, so that they resembled gigantic candy canes, left out in the cold, lest people forget that the Holidays — along with the misery of forced intimacy — were in full swing.

He skulked, concealed by the darkness of a nearby street corner. Snow fell swiftly, silently, transforming the otherwise grimy streets into a pristine wonderland that radiated child-like wonder. Norman had a real knack for blending in with the shadows so well most people never noticed him until he pounced…Merry Fucking Christmas!

He really should have been home, sound asleep in the roach-infested two-bedroom apartment on Avenue A in the belly of the beast known as Alphabet City, but he was a light sleeper and his parents’ arguing kept him up most nights.

Norman would slam his bedroom door shut the second they started shouting; he still heard his father attack his mother with abusive insults through paper-thin, plaster walls. Norman closed his eyes and pictured the tragically comical scene.

“You’ve got a headache. Poor baby. Think I give a fuck?!” His father, shouted. Keith was a tall man with spiky brown hair, piercing bright blue eyes, and sinewy muscles, backed his mother, Doreen, a short doughy woman with jet-back hair and dull gray eyes, into a corner. She’d, cover her face the whole time with trembling hands, bracing herself for glancing blows that never came. Norman’s father didn’t have the cojones it took to hit a woman. He preferred to wield words like daggers, knowing his mother would feel their sting long after they were uttered. While a slap across the face only burned for a minute or two before being dismissed.

“Get over here. Let me kiss your head and make it better!” Keith touched her soft cheeks with the back of his hairy hand and kissed her roughly. When he did, Doreen would burst out laughing and tumbled clumsily into his meaty arms, relishing the belligerent attention.