In was not snowing in the city today. Yellow taxis clogged the avenues lit with thousand-watt streetlamps, honking unceasingly as hot-dog cart vendors hailed down the bustling, jostling pedestrians on Wall Street, and clothing boutiques flung open their doors to eager shoppers. As Christmas Eve approached, everyone was thinking of their gift lists. Margaret has risen early that morning, before the first light of day had spilled over the floorboards of her bedroom, nestled high on the twenty-seventh floor of a Manhattan skyscraper. This Christmas was precious to her. Her father Henry, who worked on Wall Street, had promised her a very special doll: a hand-stitched doll dressed in fine velvet, with a New York-style hairdo, tied up in a bun with a part down the side. Margaret had been dreaming of going to pick out that doll for a month now. She would not use it to play with. She wouldn’t take it for walks, or bring it to the park, or make it sit around the little dinner table. That little doll would stay safe and warm. She’d put it on her bed, where she could touch and admire it only after school. But today, school was out. Today was no time to think about school, or to worry about the bustle of the city.
It was ten in the morning, and Margaret had arrived early to get in line with the other children and their families outside the FAO Schwartz toy shop. She took the time to admire the dolls displayed in the window, where there was something for everyone. A brunette, a blonde, a redhead – one with big, shy eyes, one who seemed to be daydreaming, and one whose lips curled into a wry grin. It was then that a doorman draped in a red and black cape swept out of the store, opening its big glass doors with pride. “Welcome to Fao Schwartz! Your favorite New York toy store is open for business!” A commotion rose up in the line. The children and their families pressed in to the store, bubbling with excitement. Margaret had come alone. Her father had given her a hundred-dollar bill to buy her gift. She held her fist closed tight, with serious intent. To lose her money would mean losing the doll she had been dreaming of, the wonderful doll her father had promised her!
Margaret walked in and explored the aisles, unsure which way to turn; here there were miniature cars – those were for boys – and then carnival costumes, construction toys and wooden swords. There was a miniature electric train running through a model of New York. All the children stopped to gaze at it. It was a splendid toy; you could even hear its little horn. It rolled along the rails tirelessly, shining like a new penny, but Margaret still hadn’t found the dolls. A saleswoman stopped her to ask if she needed help. “I’m looking for a doll!” murmured Margaret in a small voice. The lady pointed her to the third floor, promising she’d find the “very best gift she ever dreamed of” up there. Margaret ran quickly up the stairs. She found herself in paradise. There were dolls lining every wall from end to end, top to bottom, on shelves that seemed to extend as far as the eye could see.
She stood immersed in a fairy-tale world, where hundreds of dolls seemed to have come to life. They turned their heads and laughed and smiled at each other, chatting gaily and twirling in their pretty dresses. Margaret was spellbound. Then she got a fright when a huge ape tried to grab her by the arm. It was King Kong! But the ape merely bent over to kiss her on the cheek. Suddenly, the sales lady jolted Margaret from her reverie: “Did you find the doll you wanted, sweetie?”
Margaret held out her hundred-dollar bill to the lady at the registry. The wonderful gift was almost hers. She would not be able to admire or touch it until three days’ time, after supper on Christmas Eve. She emerged from FAO Schwartz and headed home, her face lit up with joy.
Alan Alfredo Geday