The cottage was lit with many candles all around; so many candles that I was afraid that the cottage would burn down in red hot flames before my own eyes. The house exploded with sounds of laughter and music. The violin, guitar, drums, and bells. The smell of cinnamon and raisins evaporated from the house. Yumm. I touched the door handle and twisted it with my left hand since my other hand was weighed down because of how much cheese I was holding for the Christmas Eve party I was about to attend. It must have weighed at least fifty tons. I held the cheese, remembering how my now now dead wife brought and shared cheese with everyone anytime we went to a party, or a sunrise drop-in. In these small actions, I feel her presence beside me and guiding me through the way. I rubbed my chin stubble with my free hand. My straw had was starting to accumulate sweat. So were my cheap overalls and ten dollar leather shoes. They were expensive.   

As I twisted the handle to open the door it made a tasch tasch sound, alerting everyone on the inside that I was about to come in. The door handle was being stubborn and wasn’t letting me turn in. It was locked from the inside.

I heard shuffled footsteps coming my way, and I stood waiting for the person on the other side of me to open the door. I tapped my foot and distracted myself from the growing ache in my hand. The sky turned purple pink, and the owls started to hoot as birds began to rest in their nests after their unyielding day. The door finally opened, and a little old lady with soft-looking brown hair creeped out, peaking her tiny head out the door. I assumed that she did that to know who was out the door. I started to introduce myself.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Hardy Howell, and I have been tutoring young Jackson." I tried to speak over the noise-filled background. It annoyed me so much.

“Yes," she said, “I know who you are. Come in. I’m Corina." Her striking blue eyes widened in surprise when she saw my bulged stomach. Everyone was always surprised how a farmer like me, who worked so hard day and night, could be so… Hefty! The surprising thing was that, even though I was hefty- I was not strong. My figure in the midst of midnight with the full moon out would be outlined as a circle, like a soccer ball.

Corina opened the door for me, and slowly I walked in with great caution. I barely fit through the tiny door. The cottage immediately felt smaller as I walked in. The music stopped, and everyone stayed quiet. The musicians were frozen in place and looked stunned. I looked around the small house. All eyes were on me, hazel, blue, green, and brown ghostly eyes that were strained and averted away from my stomach. Pale faces expressed with obvious fear. They were afraid of my rather large “masculine” figure. Bright blue striking eyes, with slick black hair, and gruff bushy beard. Chubby tomato colored face, small feet. I naturally looked like a troll, strolling through the woods for its prey. I was uncomfortable with so much attention; I wasn’t used to it.

“Hello everyone,” I said loudly, clearly uncomfortable by their unwavering eyes. I gripped the straps of my blue overalls tightly. My hands started turning a bluish shade of pink. My voice echoed into the pin drop silence filled house. A person cleared a voice; a code that everyone understood. Howdy, stop being rude to our guest- Andrew Jackson’s tutor. “My audience” understood, and everyone snapped back and smiles started to spread. A more lively, merry color returned to the faces and eyes. They now knew I wasn’t a danger. Infact, they obviously exactly knew who I was. I was Andrew Jackson’s charm. The man who turned the notorious, temper filled boy to study and think about becoming something in the future. The incorporeal beings of fear were erased from their faces that later shone with gratitude and respect.

“I understand that you all know who I am,” I said, my voice first to speak. “Sorry to scare you all,” I chimed in a low voice. Pale faces all around the room had blushed.

“Welcome, welcome,” said the person who cleared their voice earlier. “Come on in. Make yourself at home and have a tea.” That person's hand smoothly, in one graceful movement, had gestured to a brown uncomfortable looking chair. Not to seem rude, I sat down and laid the cheese near my feet. I barely fit into the chair. I had to wiggle into it so that I could fit.  And, because of this, my attention wavered to the uncomfortable chair instead of sharing the cheese with the “Jackson Clan.”

“Teresa,” that person called.

“Yes, Roderick?” a gentle voice replied. Someone’s voice who I had then assumed, but now knew belonged to Teresa.

Right then I guessed that Teresa and Roderick were Andrew’s extended family. Scot-Irish immigrants who live near the border of North and South Carolina. The rest of the people here were also part of the large family of Andrew Jackson. The poor boy lost his siblings and parents at a very young age. He was orphaned, and he crushed his mother's dreams of being a pedestrian judge before she died. This was because of his naughty pranks and street fights. His quick temper added to the list. But poor boy was also lucky. He got a decent inheritance from his grandfather, but it ran out. Now the only thing the boy could do to save himself was to finish his studies and get a decent job. And, that’s what Andrew did. He didn’t get anywhere though. He needed help with it, someone who would help him understand the law textbooks.

That’s where I came in. I was a farmer across from him who was very interested in law and studied law for a while before becoming a farmer. I saw him study outside all day long with a lot of dedication. I saw him be frustrated because he didn’t understand anything. That’s when I decided to help him. I walked myself over to his house and started helping him study. Soon he started becoming better in school.

“Get the tea please,” Rodrick asserted.

Whoever this was, I knew he was the head of the “Jackson Clan." What he said was the way around here. I knew I’d better be on his good side.

“No, No,” I piped in. “It’s fine honestly. I just dropped in to say hello to all of you, and wish Andrew a merry Christmas Eve. I should be on my way, actually." I started to get up, but  I was stopped by a thin but sturdy curt hand. Rodricks. He was a tall, sturdy man with big feet, while I looked like a muffin from a baker shop; you could tell that Roderick was an athlete. A very strong, authoritative person. His presence was mean and nonetheless demanded to be felt in every room that he walked into.

On the other hand, Teresa, who was currently pouring tea into a blue cup for me, was a gentle short woman with a brunette bun in her hair who looked like a weasel. A rat. Someone who would agree to every command, wish and need said by anyone. Authority or not. A soft spoken person,compassionate, who was loved and hated equally. She was calm, tranquil, but equally scared. You could find it in her body language. The way she walked, talked, moved. A very angelic and hypnotizing shadow that caved into terror and forceful authority. I wondered how young Jackson lived in this scary household.

Teresa handed me my tea and quickly scurried off into the kitchen. A few seconds later came a loud bang ting tong bang of, what I would assume, pots and spoons. I heard Rodick groan in disapproval. This is not how you show our house hold off Teresa.

I turned around with haste, addressed Rodrick and asked him, “Where is the lad? Young Jackson? I want to see him.”

“You see, Howell, he is upstairs in his room. All he does is study nowadays.”         

“Even on Christmas Eve?” I asked with sincere curiosity.

“Yes sir-ee, day and night, dawn to midnight. His nose is always in those law books you share with him. But he is doing mighty well in the one room classroom. The school as they say. He has a sense of future now. Thanks to you!” Rodrick said and smiled. The smile quickly faded. “But, I’m afraid that he is going to be depressed if he continues like this. He is not a studying machine. So much isn’t good. He never has fun, does anything like playing a sport, or with other kids like he used to. I am concerned for him. Studying is good. To a limit, just like everything else is.” He closed his eyes, then reopened them. They wandered to the cheese near my feet. I started to remember about why I bought the cheese.

“Oh yes,” I said, picking up my cheese. “This is for you, and your family. It’s not nice to drop by without anything to give you fine folks." I held out the cheese for Roderick to hold. My hand started to become familiar with the ache of the cheese. Just as I thought that I was about to drop the cheese, Roddick's rather strong hand took the cheese away from my hand. His face contorted in a slightly confused structure. I know, I act like a girl, I thought, I just wanted to be helpful.

The fireplace lit the room. Everyone was still, quiet, and listened to our conversation. They were bored and twiddled their thumbs with boredom, looking at their feet.

“Can I go see Andrew?” I asked, ruefully. “I haven't seen him all this week, or for the past month.”

“Yes, you may, he is upstairs, in the room to the right. You can help yourself up,” Rodrick  reported.  “But, before you go- can you please explain why you helped Andrew in the first place? What does it matter to you if an orphaned boy is struggling?” Rodrick asked. The question was easy to answer.

“I saw myself in that boy. I too was notorious, but as I grew up I wanted to study. Not just become a farmer. I never had the opportunity though. But Andrew does, and I want him to make the best out of it,” I said.

“Okay. Thanks.” Roddick's face brightened. “Can I ask you a favor? Can you please tell Andrew to come down, and lighten up. Have some fun. Tell him we made cinnamon strawberry cake. His favorite. Please, this is important to all of us,” he begged. “We want Andrew back, at least for a short while. His witty, short tempered, clever, young flare. He’s not listening to any of us. Even Evelyn, his favorite cousin. But, he’ll listen to you. You are his teacher. He respects you and loves you very much. I’ve honestly tried everything. EVERYTHING. I’ve yelled at him, grounded him, dragged him outside. But, he never reacts. I want  a REACTION from him. He’s not angry, he just walks back upstairs. Caves into his room and starts studying. All of us have tried different things. I beg of you, to get him down. I’m so worried that he’s depressed. That’s he’s going through something that he won’t share about. Please get him down."

“I agree. Yes, I will. Thank you for the tea, Rodrick,” I answered. I wiggled my way out of the chair, but my behind was stuck in it. With a final try, my whole body was out of the chair. I heard laughter being stifled. I turned beet red and started laughing too. I was relieved to be out of the chair.  Everyone else turned their heads. Rodrick included.

I made my way around the people and climbed upstairs. I kept hitting the wall in a thud thud rhythm, my feet synchronized with the rhythm. I finally reached the second floor hallway and walked into the room to the right. The space was small, and I felt oversized for this house.

Pindrop silence followed me. I wondered if the people downstairs were dead. Or maybe they were just eavesdropping. I knocked on Andrew's door and turned the door handle. I was hit by a wave of heat and sadness. The room was dark gray with one lamp. I looked over my shoulder and wondered if I was the wrong room. Perhaps a person passed away in this room. Then I saw that there was a desk with a lonely looking Andrew on it. A bed and a tiny open window were the only other furniture in the room. The lamp barely lit the room up. I closed the door and leaned on it. Again, I felt slightly oversized. A small breeze of cool air blew through the window and made the fire wave side to side.

“Hello, Andrew?” I asked. “I heard you are studying a lot.” I smiled a bit. Andrew turned around. His eyes expressed sadness behind his beaming face with one eyebrow raised. I heard murmurs downstairs, and the murmurs turned to noisy laughter. The noise down stairs started back up again. Music, talking, laughter. The family was back to normal. It must be the cinnamon cake.

“Yes,” he said and sighed. A great deep sigh, like he was a tired old lady with no hope. His voice had dropped a few octaves, making it hollow and low.

“Come on, Andrew,” I said as I lightened up my tone.“Studying is not everything. You got to have some fun. Your family is missing you. Evelyn too. They have some cinnamon cake made. Just get out of this studying shell. Have some fun, be a 15-year-old again. Not depressed like an old lady.”

“No, I just have to finish this essay for English. Give me a few hours,” he said as anger crept into his voice. He turned his hunched back back around. Silence filled the room and made it feel emptier than it was. By then, we lost our momentum in our conversation. I tried to get it back. The wind blew again, Woosh. Andrew and my hair blew in the breeze.

“No, Andrew!” I hissed, vexed. “Listen to me now. I mean it.” Andrew turned around. “If you hand in your work late, it’s okay. I will personally write a note to the teacher so that he can excuse you. I am asking you to lighten up for just a few hours. That’s all. Spend time with your family. Eat some cake. Just a few hours. Believe me. You need it. You deserve it. And, this is coming from a person who encouraged you to study. Too much of something isn’t good. You’re going to be sick. I can tell. This stress of studying is affecting you in such a huge, negative way," I said.

“How do you know, and why do you care even?” Andrew asked. I just stared at him;  I was stunned.

At least his temper was coming back, I thought. I walked further into the room and sat on his bed.   The bed creaked under my hefty weight. Hands on my knees and back hunched forward, I waited for him to think about his actions. I stared him down until his brows furrowed and he sighed again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know why you care; you told me. And, you aren’t even making me study. So, I shouldn't be rebelling,” he said, weary with resignation and guilt. A muscle in his cheeks twitched and hid a smile. I once told him that he would never apologize because his ego would get bruised, but he just did. I smiled too, knowing that our conflict was solved. I looked at the window; it was dark already. I knew I had to leave. Soon!

“Apology accepted. Now let’s get down there,” I said hurriedly. “Apology accepted,” something my daughter used to say.

I pointed at the door. He hadn’t moved. “No,” he whined like a little baby. I dragged him out of his chair and down the stairs by his elbow with great struggle. He was very stubborn. He pulled back toward his room and caught me off guard. His book and door were left open. At that point, I didn’t care; I wanted to see him enjoy his life. We were stuck in the hallway and had not moved anywhere.

“Don’t be a baby,” I said with mega seriousness. He stared at me hard and tried to solve his dilemma. I could see the work that happened in his brain, in his recently stormy eyes. I waited again, arms locked into his. I waited for him to make a decision. After a few minutes his concentrated eyes loosened their stare and tenseness, and I realized he made a decision. I tugged once more at his hand, and I was able to move him. Silently, I rejoiced and pulled him down the stairs. I kept hitting the wall, but I didn’t care.

When we reached the end of the stairs, the musicians stopped playing, and all the people started cheering. I lightly pushed Andrew near them, and they embraced him. I stood near the corner of the wall, enjoying the view. I was happy to see this family happy. Mine died a few years ago, but the pain remained. My heart and stomach was filled. And I saw the boy I loved so much give a break and enjoy himself. Just like I should’ve done a long time ago. He was with his family, doing what a normal 15-year-old boy does on Christmas Eve. I then smiled to myself and left without a word. No one noticed me, like they did before. No one heard me, but I knew Andrew did. I knew Andrew noticed. He looked thankful, and we shared a smile. I was thankful too for knowing such great people.

Quietly I left, walking into the endless night with no aim, smiling. I finally stopped stressing about my past and let go. The full moon was in full view, along with a few owls and bats. I didn’t have to hurry out of the house after all. I had nothing to do anyway. Awestruck, I looked around, seeing the beautiful nature that surrounded me.

-Vibha Thirunellayi Gopalakrishnan