Lost December (32 page)

“He takes them at night?”

“Two at night,” she said. “Three in the morning.” She lifted him up. “Come on, son,” she said. “Take your pills.” He woke enough to swallow the tablets, then she helped him into his pajamas, kissed him and tucked him in bed. He immediately fell back asleep.

Rachael shut the bedroom door, and we took the presents out of the hall closet and wrapped them in the front room. Then we laid them under the Christmas tree—a small Douglas fir strung with silver garlands and small, blinking, multicolored lights. The presents filled the entire corner of the room. We sat on the couch and looked at the tree.

“You said you were only going to buy a few things,” she said.

“I lied.”

“You certainly did,” she said. “You’re on Santa’s bad list.”

“That’s certain,” I said. I looked at the tree and sighed. “There are few things as peaceful as a Christmas tree.” I leaned back into the sofa. “The Christmas before my mother died, I asked her if I could sleep on the couch in front of the tree.”

“What did she say?”

“She said yes.” Rachael smiled. I looked at her. “It’s nice to see you smile.”

Her smile grew a little more. “It’s nice to want to smile.” She looked into my eyes. “This has been a good day.”

“Me too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m tired.”

She sighed happily and looked at the tree. “Look at all those presents. He’s going to be so excited.” Her smile softened. “It’s been a long time since he’s had a good Christmas.” She turned to me. “The Christmas after Rex died, I asked Chris what he wanted for Christmas. He told me that Santa was bringing his daddy back. I told him that that wasn’t possible. But he had seen some movie at school where a little girl had asked Santa for her daddy back and he miraculously came back. He said to me, ‘You just have to believe, Mommy.’“

“Oh no,” I said.

“He was only five years old. It broke my heart.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” I said.

“I’m all he has.” After a few minutes she asked, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No. I’m an only child.”

“Me too,” Rachael said. “Is your father still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you spending Christmas with him?”

“He …” I wasn’t sure what to say. “He’s not talking to me anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me too. He was my best friend.”

We sat a little while longer in silence, the tree lights illuminating the room. I’m not sure of the hour, it was late and I was exhausted, but it felt so good to be with her I didn’t want to leave even though I kept dozing off. At one point I woke myself snoring. Rachael laughed. “You’re tired.”

“Two jobs is killing me,” I said. “I better get home while I can still drive.”

Rachael frowned. “Okay,” she said. She stood and took my hand to pull me up from the couch. Instead, I pulled her back and she fell on top of me, laughing. Then she stopped, our faces inches apart, our eyes locked on each other. “Will you kiss me?” she asked quietly.

I pulled her into me and we softly kissed. Her lips were warm and moist and tasted of candy cane lip gloss. After a minute she pulled away, her eyes still closed, as if she was still savoring what we’d just shared. When she opened her eyes, she said nothing, but stood, looking at me with a kind of sweet reverence. She took my hand again, and this time I stood and we walked to the door still holding hands.

At the door she leaned into me and we kissed again, this time much longer. When we finally separated, Rachael put her cheek against my shoulder and I pulled her into me. Her body felt so warm and soft against mine. After a few minutes she stepped back from me and looked into my eyes. In spite of the hour, her eyes were bright. “Merry Christmas, Luke.”

“Merry Christmas,” I said.

“What time are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Whenever you want. Do you want me to come over early?”

She nodded happily. “It would be fun to have you here when Chris opens his presents.”

“What time will Chris be up?”

She grinned. “Three,” she said. “But I make him wait until the sun’s up.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be over by sunrise.”

She put her head back against my shoulder. “May I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Am I really as mean as a wild boar?”

I laughed. “No. You’re more like a piglet.”

She playfully hit me. “Thanks.” She leaned back and quickly kissed me again, then stepped back. “Good night.”

“Good night, Rachael. Have pleasant dreams.”

A warm smile blanketed her face. “I will.”

I stepped out into the hallway, looked back at her once more. She smiled and waved and shut the door. I walked out to my car with a big smile on my face.

I feel as excited as a child on Christmas morning—
and probably for many of the same reasons
.

Luke Crisp’s Diary

Morning came early. I was probably just as excited to wake as Chris was. I was excited to see Rachael again. In the haze of my waking I began to believe that I had dreamt the last moments of our night together, until I fully woke. No, we had actually kissed. I could still taste her lip gloss on my lips. I quickly showered and dressed and drove over to Rachael’s apartment as the first streaks of dawn lit the morning sky.

Rachael answered the door in her robe. While I was still in the hallway, she looked over her shoulder to make sure that Chris hadn’t come into the front room, then we kissed again.

“Do you know how good that feels?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She took my hand and led me to her bedroom, dropping my hand at the door. Chris was awake, sitting upright on the bed.

“Hi, Luke!” Chris said.

“Hi, buddy,” I said. “Ready to see if Santa came?”

“Not so fast,” Rachael said. “We have a tradition. We read from the Bible before we go out and see what Santa has brought.”

“Your name is Luke,” Chris said. “Just like in the Bible.”

“Just like it,” I said.

We took turns reading from the second chapter of Luke from verses 1 to 14. The millisecond I finished reading the last verse, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men,” Chris shouted, “Let’s go!”

Rachael said, “Wait, let me get my camera.”

“Hurry, Mom,” Chris said. “It’s torture.”

Rachael went into the front room and stood there, ready to snap Chris’s picture as he walked in. “All right,” she said. “Come on.”

Chris ran down the short hall. He stopped at the edge of the front room, staring at all the presents. “No way,” he said.

Rachael and I sat on the couch watching Chris open his presents. Each opening elicited an excited response, followed by “Mom! Luke! Look at this!”

When he’d finished opening all his presents, he collected them all in a big pile, then sat down and began playing with a box of LEGOs.

“I’m going to make breakfast,” Rachael said. “Do you like blueberry muffins?”

I nodded.

“Luke, come help me build,” Chris said.

“Chris,” Rachael said. “Luke’s probably tired.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “There’s work to be done.”

I helped Chris build a LEGO monster insect (or something like that) until Rachael called us for breakfast. After eating I
helped Chris take his presents into his room. When I came back out, Rachael was gathering up wrapping paper into a garbage sack.

“You look tired,” she said.

“I’m exhausted. You’ve been working me like a rented mule.”

She laughed. “If you lie down,” she said. “I’ll rub your back.”

“You talked me into it.” I lay down on the couch. Rachael sat on the floor next to me.

At first Rachael massaged my shoulders and back, then she put her hand under my shirt and began running her long nails gently up and down my back, then up my neck and to my head. “Is that okay?” she whispered.

“Never, ever stop,” I said.

I don’t know how long I lay there before I fell asleep. When I woke, Rachael was asleep on the floor next to the couch. I woke her as I sat up. She looked around. “Oh, I fell asleep,” she said. “Where’s Christopher?”

“Probably still in his room,” I said. I checked my watch. It was almost one. “I better get started on dinner.”

“I’ll help,” she said.

It took us about two hours to prepare everything while Chris played contentedly in his room. We still had a few hours to kill, so I suggested we go for a drive.

A week earlier I had asked Sylvia about things to do in Las Vegas over the holidays, and she went to the city Web site and printed me out an entire list. The first stop on her
list was the Bellagio Hotel. At Christmastime, the fountains in front of the hotel are choreographed to Christmas music.

The strip was bustling with humanity. All the casinos remain open on Christmas Day, and there was a sizable crowd accumulated outside the Bellagio to watch the fountains. As I looked at the hotel, I felt a sense of dread.
Why had I come back here?

As I was pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, I said to Rachael, “This is where I was staying when I found out I was broke.” I pointed to the grove of trees. “That’s where I got robbed.”

All she said was, “I hate the casinos.”