This short story was the result of an exercise this morning which allowed 10 minutes to write a story in response to the PROMPTS below. It's loosely based on an experience I had in the 70s.
- Depression
- Window
- Better
My dad was scarcely speaking to me because he had forbidden me to go out with Jonesy, who was a Gentile, as anyone could see from the cross he wore around his neck. My mother had saved the day by insisting that stopping me from seeing him would only end in me sneaking around and not telling them much.
I was in seventh heaven, such a handsome blond boyfriend, and that afternoon I sat by the window watching for Jonesy to arrive. I was sure he was going to invite me to his house for Christmas dinner. He hadn’t stopped talking about it. All his cousins, even the ones from other cities, would be there. It would be wild. It would be delicious. He’d get great presents.
Finally he arrived, almost two hours late. I had fallen into a depression, afraid that he wasn’t going to come at all, but little did I know he was bringing bad news along with a pretty, wrapped box.
“Sorry,” he said, “you’re not invited. My parents said it wouldn’t be right to have a Jew at the table during Christmas. That it would piss off Santa and that Jesus would never have allowed it.”
“But, but, Jesus himself was Jewish!” I said.
Jonesy’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell kind of thing is that to say?! Why are you insulting our Lord?”
“No, really, Jonesy, it’s true.”
He grabbed back the colorful box – I hadn’t even had time to open it – and asked me, “So tell me, why did you people kill Christ, anyway?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just stomped out, shouting, "Never mind. Merry Christmas!”
Oh, Lordy, as we said in the South. Not a boyfriend, but I did have people, come up to me and say “Why did you kill our Lord.”
Posted by: Frieda Werden | 24 December 2021 at 07:51
Ooof! Religious ignorance...wait, is that a tautology?
Posted by: Marj | 25 December 2021 at 09:06