A Christmas Miracle, part 2

When we left off, I was secure in my conviction that I was a much more interesting person than any of the Christmas Judgers could ever hope to be.  I was correct, and things were about to get a lot more interesting.

Upon arriving home, I heaed straight out again to take Ricky for his nightly walk.  We returned and, I thought, settled in for the night.  It was about 11pm, and I was getting set-up for a Christmas Skype date with The Fam.  Ricky, who had other ideas, got it into his head that he needed to go out one last time.  Not only was his insistent pawing at the back door going to distract from my skyping-ing, but he was looking at me with those big googly eyes...

And how can you be expected to resist big googly eyes on Christmas?  So I caved.  I opened the door.  He looked at me with googly eyes again.  Talking to myself as much as Ricky, I mumbled, "Fiiiiiiine, I'll throw something for you, but I'm only throwing it once, and then I am going straight back to that warm couch, and you are going to stop looking at my with those googly eyes.  My Christmas cheer only extends so far."

So as not to waste the house's precious heat, I stepped out.  And pulled the door shut.

I quickly located a half-chewed dog treat and gave it a toss down the home-made mini golf course.  Shivering, I quickly turned to avoid potential googly eyes.  I grabbed the door handle.

It wouldn't budge.

"DO. NOT. PANIC."  flashed like lightening, illuminating the worst-case-scenarios lurking in the corners of my head.  I took a deep breath.  I pointedly ignored visions of cold hours spent waiting for daybreak.  Heading straight for the warm-embrace of  Denial, I reached for the door again, willing it to be open.

It was not.

Okay.  Okay.  Deep breath.

I didn't even see The Panic coming.  It hit me hard and fast with the undeniable reality of the situation:  I didn't have shoes.  I didn't have a coat.  It was cold.  I didn't have a phone.  I didn't have ID or even a 1yen coin in a pocket somewhere.  It was 11:30 on Christmas night.

Fending off the impending breakdown, I started to move.  I circle the house checking every first floor window and anything I could climb to reach the second floor.  Ricky was barking like I had done this on purpose.  There was nothing.  The house was sealed.  I stood for a moment on the sidewalk, looking at the house.  The lights were on inside.  It looked so cozy.

I turned and walked toward the train station, the only place I had any hope of finding people awake.

About three blocks from the house, I noticed that the mechanic shop was open.  A small shop, the front parking area was crowded with bits and pieces of various automobiles.  I considered my options: Mystery Mechanics vs. Convenience Store Zombies... I picked the mechanics and picked my way to the open door.

I can only imagine what they must have been thinking when I walked through the door, a shoeless foreigner apologizing in broken Japanese.  The whole family, in the process of dismantling a shelving system, stopped in their tracks.  I asked if there was a police station nearby.  Having previously been locked out of my own apartment after dropping my keys between the apartment stairs and a wall, I knew some key vocabulary.  "Ehhhhh, the keys, inside the house..."  I mimed the unforgiving door handle.  Dad was on his cellphone before I finished my pantomime.  Everyone else was still staring at me.  "What's your address miss?"  "Oh, well, it's a friend's house.  I don't know the address.  They went on vacation.  The dog... ummm.... sorry... I'm alone."  

 I couldn't help it.  I started to cry.  I asked for a tissue, and Mom snapped into action procuring tissues and insisting I come in and sit by the heater.  What is it about the universal look of concern mothers get that just makes me crumble?  As she sat me in the chair and settled a coat around my shoulders I lost it.  Thankfully, everyone else had returned their attention to the partly dismantled shelves.  Dad said the police were on their way, and Mom brought out a hot towel and a cup of hot coffee before they, too, went back to business.

When the police arrived 5 minutes later, my breathing had mostly returned to normal, and I smiled a watery thanks at the strangers who had rescued me without hesitation.

The policeman did not look nearly as pleased to see me as I was to see him.  He asked where the house was.  About five minutes, I said, gesturing up the street.  And so we walked as his partner in the cruiser drove at a crawl about 10 feet behind us, lights flashing the whole time.  It was the single, strangest 5 minute walk I have ever taken.

Whether the policeman walking with me actually couldn't speak a single word of English or just didn't want to, I am not sure, but whatever the reason, we communicated about as well as North and South Korea.  I tried to answer his questions, but to his great frustration, I could only understand about 10% of what he was saying.  When we got to the house, his frustration became more and more apparent as he sucked every breath through his teeth.  I worried he might end up inhaling a few.

As his partner tried to get someone on the phone who could speak English, I formulated a plan.  The Rogers had given me the phone number of nearby friends to call if I needed anything.  I just needed to get to a computer and find that email.  Though I wasn't looking forward to waking a stranger up at midnight to come rescue me, it was the only option.  I had a plan.  It was going to suck.  But I had a plan.

Just then, the neighbors front door opened, and out walked a man embodying everything that was familiar and comforting.  He was white, middle-aged, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and when he spoke, I lost it for the second time that night.   

"Hey, is everything alright?"
"Oh my God, yeah, I'm f-fine, oh, I'm gonna cry ag-gain, but really, I'm fine,"  I managed between sobs.  "Um, my name is M-Maggie.  I know the R-Rogers from Minnesota and, I'm locked, locked out of the house."  More sobs.  "I'm w-watching Ricky, and just, just let him out the back door and closed it, and, and, it was l-locked."  

Eventually I managed to somewhat coherently get out that I was a friend from Minnesota, living in Kanazawa, and staying in Tokyo for Christmas.  My New Favorite Person On The Planet explained that the school would have a set of spare keys, but that it would be difficult to get them tonight and did I want to just sleep on his couch and get the keys in the morning?  Yes.  Yes yes yes.  Uh huh.  That's exactly what I wanted to do.

About this time the police got someone on the phone who spoke English. "Thank you, but it's okay.  I am okay.  The neighbor will help me get keys tomorrow.  I will stay with him tonight.  Oh, well, my name is Margaret McCarron, but it's okay.  I'm okay.  The neighbor will help me get keys tomorrow.  Okay, yes, well, my birthday is December 27th, 1986.  But really, it's okay.  I'm fine."  After about 5 minutes I could no longer deal with any of it, handed the phone back to the cop, mumbled some Japanese about being fine and thank you thank you, sorry, thank you, sorry.  And I turned around and walked into the house.

I was indoor again.  There was a fluffy comforter on the couch.  "I turned the heat on, so it should warm up in a few minutes."  Tears threatened again.   

"Do you want something to drink?"
"Y-yeah, th-thanks.  Can I have a glass of w-water?"
"No, I mean, do you want a beer or a glass of wine or something?"
"Oh.  Yes.  Yeah.  Thanks."

We sat at the kitchen table.  It turned out his wife and kids were back home in the States, but he had stuck around out of some sort of good luck conspiracy.  He asked all the right questions you ask people who need an easy distraction.  We talked about where I live and what I do and Japanese junior high schools and weather.  And I finally got it together.  And when I went to sleep, I was on a couch not a dog bed, in a warm room not a cold backyard, under a comforter.

In the morning, he made coffee, called the necessary people, got the keys, and then Ricky and I stayed inside alllll day.

THE END

 yes, that is Mt. Fuji in the background - I saw it from the train and had to duck down a few alleys and scramble up a couple private stairways to get to the top of a building, but it was worth it

AFTERWORD

I later made cookies for the pleasantly surprised mechanic family and saw my rescuer (Mark) and kids again when they came for dinner at the Rogers', and I got to hear his side of the story: first being woken up by Ricky's barking, then seeing police lights flashing, and  then coming out to find a shoeless, sobbing stranger from Minnesota who initially appeared to be alone in Tokyo on Christmas for no apparent reason.  It was certainly a Christmas to remember for everyone involved.