I want to tell her that I’m not nearly as good as she’s making me out to be. I might be here with Gwen now, but I was pretty damn absent for the first few years of her life. But I’m selfish enough to want her to like me, so that maybe I’ll have an ally in whatever this thing with Kalli is.
Realizing I still haven’t introduced myself to her, I hold out my hand over the counter and say, “Wilder Bell.”
She takes it, giving my hand a surprisingly firm shake before adding, “Lennox Hastings. Does this mean I’ll be seeing you for Christmas?”
“Yeah. I think you will.”
Chapter Eleven
Mom's eyes meet mine from her perch on the couch. It's the first time I've seen her out of scrubs in weeks. Mom had been a nurse for nearly a decade, but she quit a few years back when Dad’s business started flourishing. Or when we thought it had anyway. She went from staying at home to working as many hours as she could pack in practically overnight. Out of scrubs, she wears a red holiday sweater, and it makes the paleness of her cheeks stand out even more. Gwen is on the floor in Dora the Explorer pajamas, tearing through the wrapping paper on her present.
We're doing something new this Christmas. Instead of opening all the presents in the morning, we've been spreading them out throughout the day. Mom and I thought it might make up for the fact that there aren't as many presents under the tree as there used to be.
Last year's Christmas had been even more extravagant than usual. Dad had gone on a crazy buying spree, which had included my SUV that was parked outside in the drive. He bought it outright. We probably should have known then that something was up, but Dad had just convinced us that business was good. We should have questioned how his investment business was flourishing at a time when everyone else in the market seemed to be struggling, but when things are good like that, you don't want to go searching for problems.
Me, especially. Dad wasn't on my back to go to college or get a real job or any of that kind of thing. Then it all went away in the blink of an eye. If the SUV hadn't been in my name, they would have taken that too. I'd tried to give it to Mom after news about Dad had come to light, and the bank had repossessed both their vehicles. But she wouldn't have it. She bought a beat up old Camry from a friend at the hospital, and refused to even think about taking the SUV.
“Your father gave you that,” she told me. “I don't know why he did what he did. Don't know how he could convince himself it wasn't wrong, but we've had enough taken from us. It might relieve a little stress to take that vehicle from you, but it wouldn't do a damn thing for the ache in my heart. The only thing that helps with that is having you back here. Having you and Gwen here makes me feel so full, I don't even notice what else is missing.”
Except it's impossible not to notice what's missing now.
Dad is gone. So is the old house.
No more giant Christmas tree with an abundance of decorations. Instead, we've got one of those fake half-size ones, covered not in expensive ornaments, but just the more personal ones. Things I made in school, a few things by Gwen, some candy canes.
But for all the changes, Gwen doesn't seem to notice as she liberates a doll I recognize from some TV show she loves out of its packaging. I cross from my position against the wall, and take a seat on the couch by Mom. I wrap an arm around her shoulder, and pull her close. She leans all her weight into me, and I choke back the emotion building at the back of my throat.
“Christmas is Christmas,” I tell her. “That hasn't changed. It won't change.”
She reaches up to rest a hand against my cheek. Her fingers brush over my unshaven jaw, and she grips my face and looks at me.
“Thank you, Wilder. I know this hasn't been easy. And I know you've given up so much.” Tears well in her eyes, but she presses on, her hold on my jaw tight. “I'm so sorry for that. I'm really close to being back on my feet, and then you can go back to—”
I cut her off by pulling her into a hug.
“Stop, Mom. I'm happy where I am. It was about time I grew up anyway.”
It's one of my unwritten rules that I'll just keep saying that until it's true. One day it will be.
We pass the day together. Mom bakes cookies. We watch Christmas-themed movies on the small TV that came with the furnished apartment. Gwen starts playing with her toys, and Mom and I both get dragged into an imaginary tea party with a few stuffed Disney characters, a Spiderman figurine that Gwen unearthed from a box of my old toys, and a worn out old baby doll that is less cute and more Chucky.
Around nine that night, Gwen finally passes out with her cheek pressed flat against the carpet and Spiderman in her hand.
“I got her,” I tell Mom, and then bend to scoop her up. She flails sleepily in my arms for a moment, fighting my hold before burying her head in my neck and going slack again.
I walk her down the hallway, and into her small bedroom. I balance her in my arms with one hand, and pull back her covers with the other. I lay her down on her mattress as gently as I can, but she still wakes up, peering up at me with bleary eyes. She whines for a second, as if she can’t decide whether she wants to be awake or asleep.
“Are you gonna see Kalli?” she finally asks.
I stiffen, and then pull her covers up to her neck. I’m still out of practice at the whole brother-ing thing. I probably shouldn’t let her get attached to the idea of seeing Kalli again, but hell, I’m not doing a very good job of keeping myself from that.