Fingerprints Across the Glass

Orange and black streamers spiraled downward from the ceiling of the small gymnasium, just one of many Halloween decorations that littered the space. In all honesty, Rosyln thought it was a bit excessive, but it was all worth it to see the look of wonder etched across the children’s faces. They were all dressed up in their Halloween costumes, an array of superheroes, monsters, and fairy tale princesses struggling to behave as they waited in line at each booth.

As the school’s resident art teacher, Rosyln was running the craft booth for the night, helping the younger children make pumpkins with their tiny painted fists and the older kids make masks out of glitter and paper plates. Though they were all eager to take part in the games and activities at the fall festival, it was painfully obvious that most of the kids were there solely for the candy. The children had a way of entertaining the other teachers by participating, but once they were offered that fistful of goodies, most kids were quick to take the candy and move onto the next booth to run the same game all over again.

Roslyn’s booth was the only exception.

Without fail, as soon as a child made his way up to the booth, his eyes would widen, almost as if they were going to fall out of his head. For a moment, he’d just stand there, his trick-or-treat bag clutched tightly in his grip, and stare, struggling to soak in and piece together the rarity before him. Occasionally, one of the little boys would get up the nerve to ask “Is that Jack Frost?”, but the parent that was with him would spout off something along the lines of “Don’t be silly, Billy. What would Jack Frost be doing at a Halloween carnival?”. The more harsh parents would sharply whisper “Now you know there’s no such thing as Jack Frost” before ushering their child away to the next booth.

Those were the parents that hurt Jack the most, the ones that urged their children not to believe. Roslyn had never stopped believing.

Nevertheless, he’d flash each child a mischievous grin and throw a wink his or her way, and the child would be smitten. With just that one gesture, they never questioned whether or not he was the real deal, they just simply knew.

Rosyln was applying orange paint to little Daisy Collins’s knuckles when she noticed the unexplained candy canes on the corner of the table.

She kept her voice low as she checked to make sure there weren’t any parents around. They’d have her fired and committed for sure if they caught her talking to something that was supposedly just a figment of her imagination. “What are these candy canes for, Jack?”

He shrugged. “Gosh Ros, they’re for the kids. I thought you were supposed to give out candy for Halloween. Kids dress up in costumes, go door-to-door, trick-or-treat, and all that?”

"Jack, you can't give candy canes out on Halloween! Those are for Christmas! Get your act together before I start giving you tricks instead of treats!" She found herself talking to him as if he were one of her students, constantly repeating his name in an effort to get her point across.

In the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop herself. He knew just how to push her buttons, and the fact that he did it on a rather regular basis irritated her more than anything. It was a difficult feat that she didn’t quite understand, how she could care for him so much when he was constantly getting under her skin.

Roslyn’s first encounter with Jack Frost had been when she was only four. On a cold winter night, her father sat her down and told her the story of Jack Frost, the guardian of the season, and although her father’s story wasn’t entirely true, ever since then, the little curly-haired girl had been obsessed.

That was the first night that she wrote to him in the frost on her bedroom window.

When she was at that young age, the relationship between them was merely that of a little girl and her favorite playmate. She’d write messages to Jack on her window, and every now and again, he’d come play with her. They were shallow messages at first, but as the bond between them strengthened, Roslyn began to rely on Jack Frost more. Once she outgrew his games, he became more of a confidant to her, the only person that understood her in the adult world of the nonbelievers. He’d been there for her through the thick and thin, all she’d had to do was write to him on her window, and he’d find his way to her.

“Oh all right,” he muttered to himself as he shoved the candy canes into his pocket. “I was just trying to have a little fun.”

“I know, I know,” she admitted, and while Daisy was still preoccupied making knuckle pumpkins across her page, Roslyn planted a soft kiss along his pale cheek. “But the candy canes will just have to wait until Christmas. Here’s some candy corn you can give to the kids.”

He seemed satisfied with the compromise, taking a fistful of the orange and white candies and slipping them into little Daisy’s bag. Roslyn couldn’t help but smile to herself as she watched the little girl blush and scamper away.

Sometime amongst all the finger-painting and mask-making, Jack Frost had disappeared, but as she walked back to her apartment, Roslyn could still feel him in the crisp, wintry air around her. Even though she kept her arms huddled cross her chest, she couldn’t deny the warmth she felt whenever she knew he was near.

When she reached her destination, Roslyn found a cup of hot cocoa waiting on the windowsill, a green and red candy cane jutting out of her favorite mug. Taking a sip, she could taste the warmth from the cocoa, but there was the underlying contrast of peppermint, like winter on her tongue.

With a smile, she wrote three simple words in the frost on her window, a little heart beneath the well-worn phrase. The heart glowed against the glass, and it was then that she realized she’d never be alone.