The Christmas Secret (11 page)

“Mom, do you think Santa will bring me fairy wings so I can fly?” Haley asked.

She was stalling. “I don't know, babe. You need to start your homework.”

“I hate homework,” she said, blowing out crumbs as she talked.

“All you have to do is practice writing a letter,” I said. “What is it today?
S
?”

She folded her arms. “No. It's
r
and I hate
r
. It's too hard and nothing good starts with
r
.”

I cleared the lamp and a picture from the table and set them on the floor. “Lots of good things start with
r
. Rain.”

“I don't like rain,” she said, finishing the cookie. “It gets me wet.”

I spread the tablecloth over the end table and set the tree on top of it. It was a sad and pitiful little thing. “How about rabbit?”

“I like rabbits,” she said, tearing open the bag of cookies.

I took the bag from her and put it on the sofa. “Then think of rabbits as you practice your
r
's.” She started to whine as I pulled and plumped each branch on the tree. “Don't start whining, Haley. It never gets you anywhere. Go practice your
r
's. You could have had them done by now.” Her shoulders deflated and she huffed away.

“Mom!” Zach yelled from his room. “I need help with this.”

I sighed. Each evening was the same as I was torn in a dozen directions at once—dinner, cleaning, homework, laundry, bills, and tonight, decorating the Christmas tree. I
heard my name at least fifty times a night. I pulled a jar of spaghetti sauce from a cabinet and opened it. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

“You told me to do homework now.”

“Hold on,” I said, pouring the sauce into a pan. I began to fill another pan with water when someone knocked on the door. I turned the water off and walked out of the kitchen. I could see through the window at the top of the door that it was my landlord. I was late with December's rent.

“Hi, Ed,” I said, opening the door. “I'm sorry I'm late with my check. I can get rent to you by the end of the week.”

His face was blank and I knew something was wrong. “Christine, I'm sorry,” he said. I felt my heart sink and knew what was coming. “I've always been willing to work with you but you've only paid partial payments for the last four months.”

I stepped outside so the kids couldn't hear. “I know but I always catch up. You know I do.”

He looked down at the sidewalk and pushed a pinecone out of the way with his foot. “At first you did and I worked with you as best I could. I've raised the rent on the other units eight months ago but kept yours the same. I know it's tough to pay bills on your own but I have to pay the mortgage on these units and I just don't see how you can catch
up now.” He handed me a letter. “I'll need you to be out by the end of January.” I couldn't find enough air in my lungs to push out a word. “I'm sorry.”

I watched him drive away and my legs felt heavy on the stairs. I had no idea how to pick them up and walk back into the house. For a fleeting moment I thought of calling my mother but let the thought pass. She wasn't in the position to dole out that kind of money and deep down I was too embarrassed to ask for help. The phone rang on the other side of the door and I pushed it open. My thighs felt like Jell-O as I crossed to the kitchen and saw on caller ID that it was Brad. I hated him and his phone calls and his young friend he sent into the restaurant today. I despised the constant struggle and worries and inability to get ahead. Zach called me from his room and I pushed a dish towel to my mouth, listening as the phone continued to ring.

 

After the blow from Ed I lacked the physical and mental energy to do much with the tree so I relegated myself to untangling lights and putting hooks on the ornaments. I didn't stop Zach when he put too many lights on the tree so it looked like a small explosion in our window or Haley when she put cotton balls on each branch to look like snow, and I didn't say a word as most of those white, puffy balls ended up on the table. As soon as the last snowman was
hung on a branch I made the kids brush their teeth and go to bed.

Zach and Haley had shared a room up until three months ago when he said she talked too much as he tried to fall asleep. We needed another bedroom but this was all I could afford. I kissed Zach's forehead and pulled the blankets up to his neck. “What about stories, Mom?”

“Not tonight,” I said.

“You didn't read last night, either.”

“The tree pushed everything later tonight. I'll read extra books tomorrow,” I said. He didn't look like he believed me and I didn't blame him. In his eyes I could see what I was becoming or failing to become. I kissed his head and crossed the hall to my bedroom to tuck Haley in bed.

She grabbed my hand before I could leave. “Go to bed now, Mom.”

“I can't. I need to wash the dishes.”

“Stay in here while I fall asleep. See,” she said, closing her eyes, “I'm almost asleep already.” I tried to pull my hand away. “Please, please,” she said, keeping her eyes closed.

I slid into the bed next to her and sat on top of the comforter, running my finger over her forehead. I had no idea who she looked like. It wasn't Brad and she only had my hair but the rest of her belonged to someone else in the family, maybe my father. Too many times I looked at myself
in the mirror wondering what parts of him I had inherited. I crept my fingers down Haley's arm and she smiled, pretending to sleep. I wondered how old she would be when the world would start working her over as it had done me and at what point her childlike innocence would end. Would it be during the next heated battle between Brad and I or later when some kid makes fun of her crooked teeth and lack of physical ability? When would she go through the door that lets in her future and would she be prepared? I watched her breathe and the crescent smile fell into a loose O. A collection of children's books and some of my favorite novels were stacked on my nightstand. I picked up
Pride and Prejudice
and looked at the bookmark. It was my third time reading the book but I had started this read three months ago. My heart raced at the thought of Ed and Brad and Christmas and I slid my legs off the bed. I kissed Haley's forehead and wished to be more like her: able to trust despite the news, able to laugh in spite of the failures, able to cheer despite the darkness, and able to believe in goodness in spite of the hazards in the road.

I walked to the kitchen and stood in the middle of it, staring at the mess on the countertops, the bills in the basket, the letter from Ed, and the off-white walls and white appliances. I was so tired of off-white walls and white appliances. My marriage had been off-white walls and white appliances—blah and nothing remarkable. I wanted color
and radiance and a window to let in the light. I opened the drawer under the phone and pulled out a notepad and pen and wrote the Christmas letter I had long ago abandoned.
Dear God
, I wrote.
Please help me
.

I slid it into an envelope, placed it beneath the tree, and went to bed.

 

 

 

 

Marshall listened as the phone rang in his ear. “Dwight, I'm three weeks from my anniversary. Can you order those flowers your gal showed me a few days ago?”

“Which ones did you want, Marshall?”

“The ones I couldn't pronounce along with all those others. And send a bouquet of mixed flowers to Judy. She'd rather have chocolate but flowers are healthier.”

Dwight laughed. “What do you want on Judy's card?”

“Just write,
Hurry back before I shoot him
. She'll know what it means.”

Marshall heard Dwight scribbling on the other end of the phone. “I'll have them ready on the twenty-third.”

Marshall hung up the phone and pulled out the diamond necklace, letting it dangle off his fingers. Some people said he spoiled Linda but he always thought it was the other way around. He missed her voice and picked up the phone.

 

.    .    .

 

Gloria sorted through a stack of mail. “Christmas card from the Fuentes,” she said. “Look, a cute picture of Luis.” She held the picture in front of Miriam.

“I hope that child grows into his ears someday.”

Gloria shoved the photo back inside the envelope. “Unfathomable. You're even rude at Christmas.” She opened another envelope and gasped as she read the letter inside. “Oh, my,” she said, looking around. “Oh, goodness.” She put the card down on the table and leaned on her elbows, whispering, “What does this mean?”

Miriam snatched the card off the table, reading it. “Well, I'm not a rocket scientist but let me see if I can figure this out. ‘Dear Gloria.' That's you. ‘I have no idea how to tell you how fond I am of you. I think you are a perfectly lovely woman and if you are willing I would love the opportunity get to know you better.' There is no signature so I can only assume this is someone at the correctional institute who is trying to conceal his identity or a secret admirer.” Gloria straightened her sweatshirt and pinned the unruly curls around her face to the side of her head. “Oh, stop trying to fix yourself up now. Whoever this is, he is painfully aware of what you look like.” Miriam continued to read. “ ‘If you are willing, I was wondering if we could meet somewhere to talk? Please think about it. I will send another letter in a few days.' ”

Gloria put her hands on top of her head and slunk down in her seat. “Whatever are you doing?” Miriam asked.

“I haven't been on a date in forty years! No wait!” Her fingers flew in front of her. “Forty-four years!”

Miriam hissed across the table. “Sit up right now. This is deplorable behavior for a grown woman.”

“Good morning, ladies,” I said, approaching their table. “Is something wrong?”

“Well,” Miriam said, waving a letter in the air. “Gloria here has a secret admirer.”

A twinge of sadness swept over me. I wanted that—that feeling of being pursued and needed in a way I wanted my children whenever I was away from them. I smiled and sounded excited. “That's awesome,” I said, setting their coffee and tea on the table. “Do you have any idea who it could be?”

Gloria shook her head. “No. Never. Who would ever do such a . . . I've only dated one man my entire life. I need lipstick.”

She dug through her purse and Miriam looked at me, shaking her head. “And what about your young buck?” she asked.

I began writing on the ordering pad. “There is no young buck,” I said, cutting them off before they could ask about TS. I checked over what I had written. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on an onion bagel, and boiled egg, medium yolk, with dry wheat toast.”

“Perfect,” Gloria said. “You already know us so well. Scary, isn't it?”

I smiled and went to input their order. I felt badly for being so short with them. Four insurance agents at table six nodded for more coffee and I walked to their table faking a laugh at one's lame attempt to be charming. Sometimes I got so tired of this job.

Miriam hissed at me through her teeth and I turned to look at her. “TS is back,” she said, keeping her voice low. A wave of heat spread across my face and my hands shook as I topped off Gloria's coffee.

Voices swarmed in my head. They were of Brad laughing and my mother telling me not to marry him and the voices of my own cynicism and failure. Then there was the voice that whispered, “Not yet. The dream isn't dead. I'm still here.” But my own voice was too loud and drowned it out. I saw TS out of the corner of my eye but didn't dare acknowledge him. I set down the pitcher of cream and walked to the kitchen. “He's back,” I said, whispering loudly to Karen. Aprons hung on the wall and I ran my hands through them.

“Who's back?” she asked, picking up an order.

I found an apron with a name tag and pulled it down, taking off the tag. “The guy from yesterday.” I looked at her as I pinned the name to my uniform. “Do you think you could—”

“I can't right now,” she said, cutting me off. “I'm slammed.”

My throat was dry. Why was he back? What was he doing? I should have just taken the phone call from Brad last night instead of dealing with this today. I rushed around the corner to pick up three waters for my new tables. I greeted my customers then walked to table three, setting the water down in front of TS.

“So you have a name today?” he said.

I froze. “What?”

He pointed to the tag. “You didn't have your name tag yesterday.” He leaned over to see it. “Rosemary.” He paused. “You don't look like a Rosemary.”

“My mother thought I did.”

He threw his hands in the air. “I didn't mean anything by that. It's a beautiful name. I'm just glad to know your name today. I should have asked yesterday. My grandfather would be very disappointed.” He smiled, wanting me to be charmed.