Archives:
December 17-December 23, 2006

December 17, 2006

There's a small fiber optic tree in the corner of Teri's living room that lights up with a rotation of different colors. There are waves of tinsel hanging from the ceiling too, giving the place sort of the feel of a home-style Christmas, but on a college student budget. Teri shares her apartment with two other women, each of whom has already left for the break.

“All right,” Teri says, coming back to where she left me in the living room couch, carrying a plate of cookies, shaped like Christmas trees, angels and little people. “It was my first time making these on my own, but they're pretty simple, and I followed my mom's recipe exactly.”

“I trust you,” I say, with a chuckle, taking one of the little guys and biting his head off. “It's good.”

Teri smiles. “Good.”

“So tell me, did you stay here in Butterton just to hang out tonight?”

“Is that what you think?” Teri asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I wouldn't judge you for it. People have gone to much greater lengths to spend a night with me.”

“Well, if you think we're going to spend the night together, you might be disappointed.”

I shrug. “We'll see.”

Teri bites into a cookie of her own. “So, in all honesty, I didn't want to head home until after the weekend.”

“Why's that?”

“The family's all around on the weekends—mom and dad aren't working, my brother and sister aren't in school. I'd prefer a nice, quiet homecoming.”

I scratch my chin. I haven't shaved for a few days, and I've got a decent stubble growing there. “Guess I don't have to think about that sort of thing. It's just my dad back home.”

The way Teri looks at me, I can tell she feels bad for bringing it up. Still she goes on, “Just you two for the holiday?”

“Na—my mom's gonna come in just a few days before Christmas, and I think my brother's still coming in too. That and I'm sure we'll spend time with my Grandma. So, really, it's just the two of us for everything but the holiday.”

Teri smiles. “So can I get you anything else—milk or hot chocolate or something?”

“Na, that's fine,” I say, biting off the stump of a tree-shaped cookie. “What you can get me is that present you've been talking about.”

“Only if you give me mine.” We exchange gifts. The box she gives me is a little larger and heavier than what I give her. She looks at her box, then back to me, eyes glowing. “You open yours first.”

Teri's present for me is much more neatly wrapped then the one I gave her, in shiny, metallic blue paper with a red ribbon tied around it. I try not to tear it too much as I open it up.

“It's an electronic thesaurus,” Teri says, as I take what looks like an oversized calculator from the box. “I figured it might be handy for editing your section, or for that whole English major thing.” She giggles. “I'm sorry if that's a stupid gift. I—”

“No,” I smile at her, “it's great. I really like it.” The funny thing is, I'm not even kidding. It's a practical gift, and I like that it shows how she knows me—how we've gotten to know each other over these last few months.

And, it makes me feel better about buying her a memory card for her digital camera.

“Two gigs?” She lunges toward me, hugging me so hard that it actually knocks me back into the arm of the couch.

I laugh. “I'm glad you like it. I just figured after the whole Bower Hall thing, and you taking all those pictures, maybe a new card would be useful.

“I love it,” she says, a little more subdued, but still sitting very close to me.

I take a glance out the window, where it's starting to snow. As much as I've never liked snow, it is kind of pretty just now, looking from the inside out. It's warm in here. I turn back to Teri to find she hasn't taken her eyes from me.

December 18, 2006

My brain's pretty fried, but I've made it through.

As I set out on the highway, driving toward home, it's hard to comprehend that I managed to catch up on all of the time and work I missed when I was in the hospital. Up until the last couple days, I tried to stick with the doctor's orders, taking a lot of extra time to sleep and rest. There came point when I needed those extra hours, though, and after going on just five or six hours of sleep the last couple days, I look forward to the weeks ahead to catch up on rest.

That is, I can rest as long as I can stay awake at the wheel along the ride home.

I'll be all right.

I think about riding home with Dad for this break last year, alternating between hearing news radio and Oldies from this very car's old speakers, interspersed with bits of conversation between my father and me. I thought of how my father would have preferred to have driven me home this year as well, having me leave and come home to get well rather than sticking out this semester.

It has been hard, but I'm glad I got through it. Despite a throbbing head, the fall semester is complete, and I'm still on track. And unless I was just tired enough to delude myself, I would actually say that my class work turned out pretty well.

I'm glad I got to spend last night with Teri as well. I ended up leaving later than I'd planned, as we just kept talking, and started watching Christmas movies on TV. Then we talked about the movies, recalling our childhoods.

I think I'm going to miss her these next few weeks.

I open the window a crack, letting the cold air rush in. It helps keep me alert, and keeps my mind from drifting. By now, I'm just an hour from home.

December 19, 2006

My brain's pretty fried, but I've made it through.

“Check this out,” Matt says, peering into one of the store windows at the mall. Behind the glass is a snowy field where children wave their arms wildly, walking in circles, around a snow man whose stick arm waves from side to side itself. Across the field, Santa Claus sleds down a hill, through a tunnel, then back around to the top of the mountain.

“I don't know, the animatronic thing is kind of creepy,” I say.

“Creepy? This is thing is awesome,” Matt says, leaning in closer. “Could you imagine the other stuff you could do with this technology, though, if you got past the whole Christmas theme?”

“Animatronic porn?”

He raises a finger. “And that's just one possibility. We could be talking animatronic fight scenes, or reenactments of great moments in sports history.”

“Maybe this is the field for you.”

Matt waves his hand, stepping away from the glass. “Too much science for me. I'm better at conceptualizing stuff.” He stops and looks around. “So where to next?”

I look around the mall. It's kind of nice standing right here, outside the stream of shoppers. I didn't expect a Tuesday, nearly a week before the holiday to be this busy, but then I suppose there aren't really slow nights at the mall now. “All I still need is a present for my brother—and for April, I guess.”

“Man, I can hardly even remember the last time I saw Ray.”

I nod. “Not around much anymore.”

“He still into baseball?”

I shrug. “I think he still watches it, but I don't think a few packs of baseball cards is really gonna do it any more.”

“I wouldn't be so sure. Might be a nice little retro gift—something to remind him of where he came from.”

“Maybe. That would still leave April, though. I'd like to get something the two of them could use.”

“Gift cards?”

I continue to look around as my shopping bags begin to feel heavy in my hands. “That might have to do it.”

December 20, 2006

“So you don't have any memory of what happened?” Julie asks, leaning her head on her hand, her elbow against the back of the couch.

I raise my hands. “Not a clue. I remember the concert and the party, and I think I left on my own. But then, next thing I know, I'm waking up at the hospital after a bunch of crazy dreams.”

Julie shakes her head. “That's so wild.”

I lean forward and grab a rice krispie treat from the table in front of me. It's a little strange being in Lois's house tonight, after only knowing her in the context of the store—at Stephon's. It's a really little place, but I suppose there's more than enough room for one person to live here.

“Man, if I was there, you know I would have had your back,” Jermaine says, assuming a boxer's pose. “Somebody tried to jump you—bam, I'd pop him in the jaw.”

“I know you would have.” The doorbell rings and Lois scurries out of the room for it. It seems like she's been on her feet since I got here, always fetching something from the oven, or rushing off to answer the door. I would have thought she would want to relax on the one night she shuts down the store, to bring all of her employees together. But then, I suppose Lois isn't really one to relax at all.

When Lois returns to the room, she has Anastasia behind her.

Anastasia's hair is shorter than I remember it, and she looks as though she might have lost a little weight. She looks good, though, and like the others, it's a little different seeing her in a winter coat and boots after only knowing her for the summer.

Lois has the coat off of her soon enough, and heads over to hang it up in the closet. Anastasia smiles when she sees me, and walks over. Jermaine pats my shoulder and gets up.

I get up as well and Anastasia gives me a hug. It feels good to have her hug me, and not to have that awkward stage where we wouldn't know what we're supposed to do. It's funny, because when I left off with Emma or Veronica, there was a clear endpoint. With Anastasia, it still sort of feels as though things aren't resolved between us, which I guess makes sense, since we weren't really together—since we just sort of dated.

I give her an update on my life in the last six months, then ask her what she's up to. She can't help smiling. “I'm leaving for college next month.”

“Really? That's great.”

She nods. “ Bergeron College . It's just an hour and a half away, nothing major—but it's better than SCC.”

“I'll say.” I really do feel happy for her. I remember having thought to myself that she might never get out of this town—never leave her mom, sister and niece behind. I'm sort of impressed that she's really doing it. “Well good for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “And it's a lot of loans, but the best thing is my family's not involved, so they can still have Christmas, and it's not like Ellie has to go hungry for the next couple years.”

“Excellent.” I feel sort of bad when she mentions the loans, and recall our financial differences. The fact that she mentions Ellie makes me smile, though. “That actually reminds me of something.”

“Oh?”

I pick up a paper bag from the ground by me and hand it to her. “It's a little cheesy, but I was out shopping with buddy Matt yesterday—you remember him?”

“Yeah, the guy who worked at that camp.”

“Right. So we were out shopping and I came upon this guy,” I reach over and open the bag, pulling out the teddy bear with a Santa hat from inside.

“He's adorable,” she says, smiling, looking at it wide-eyed.

“My grandmother got me one just like this years ago, when I was little. Anyway, I thought maybe Ellie would like it. Anyway, I hoped you would come here tonight—so there you go.”

Anastasia keeps smiling at the bear. “She's going to love this.” She turns back to me. “Thank you.”

I nod. “Merry Christmas.”

December 21, 2006

One of the benefits of playing Texas Hold ‘Em at Joey's place is that he has all of the accessories you could ask for—felt to cover the table, a full set of chips, crisp new cards, and of course a bowl of pretzel sticks and enough beer for everyone.

Joey turns over the river card. Neither Matt nor Chang show any signs of emotion. “Your bet, Matt,” Joey says, setting down the remainder of the deck.

Matt nods, his eyes moving from his own stack to Chang's, back to the pot. Finally he fingers the top black chip from his little stack, then lifts two of them, and places them in the center. “Two hundred to stay in.”

Chang scratches his chin, and peeks at his cards. After another moment he picks up his own chips, “I'll see it and raise you another hundred.”

The pot's grown big enough so that this hand is going to change the game. One of these guys will be knocked down to less than three hundred dollars in play money, while the other's going to be the chip leader. Once again, Matt's eyes make their rotation.

“All right, I'll see you,” Matt says, tossing in another black chip. “What have you got?”

“I've got Mary-Kate,” Chang says, flopping over a queen of hearts, “and Ashley,” he goes on, dropping the queen of clubs. “Makes for a full house.”

“Son of a bitch.” Matt slams his cards down. “Could have sworn I had you with the flush.”

“Sorry, bud,” Chang says, gathering up the pot.

“This guy been playing cards out at Taylor ?” Matt asks me. “All of a sudden, he grows a poker face?”

I shrug. “Hasn't been playing with me. But that might be where he goes all those nights. I always thought he was just going to see your mother.”

“Oh!” Joey laughs. As usual, he's not far from the lead, second now only to Chang.

I take a sip from my bottle of Coors. Tonight's the first time I've drank since I got out of the hospital. It's good to drink a cold one again, and even better to be here, playing cards with the guys. There aren't any signs of the holiday here in this kitchen, but I feel more at home than I have in a long time.

December 22, 2006

“Oh, honey, what did they do to you?” Mom asks, breaking away from our embrace and putting a hand over my face, but not touching.

“Well, I don't remember exactly what they did,” I say, “but it's OK. I'm all healed up now.”

“All healed up? Your coloring's still off over he—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom,” I break in, “but it's just surface level stuff now. I feel fine. And this,” I wave a hand over my face, “doesn't hurt at all anymore.”

“OK,” she says, but she doesn't look sure. “Well let me get my bags here.” She turns to the baggage claim.

I can recognize her old tan suitcase and lift it for her. “I got it,” I say, beating her to the handle. She looks at me, concerned. “Really, Ma, it's fine.”

We head back to my car, and she sort of stops at the sight of my blue Oldsmobile, my father's old car. “I had forgotten you were driving this now,” she says.

“Yeah, the blue bomber's still trucking along.” I give my mom a sideward glance. “Guess it's kind of weird for me to be driving this now, huh?”

She smiles, and laughs. “Don't be silly. It's just a car.”

I'm not sure I believe the nonchalance she's putting on, but don't press the issue. I pop the trunk and put her luggage back there. It remains a little strange to me, driving my mother through town in that car. What's stranger yet, though, is driving past each turn that would lead us home. Instead, I'm taking Mom to Grandma's little apartment, where she'll spend the next few days. I suppose that's for the better for everyone involved, giving the two of them time together, and minimizing the awkward times for all of us back home.

“Avery says hi, by the way,” Mom says, looking out her window.

December 23, 2006

“I'll have the 8 ounce sirloin with mashed potatoes and the steamed broccoli,” dad says, closing his menu and handing it to the waiter.

“Very good, we'll have that right up.”

As strange as it was driving Mom in my father's old car last night, it's comparably strange sitting here in Angelo's, the Italian steakhouse where we used to go as a family, and where my father would remind my brother and I that this was where the two of them went on their first date.

“He was trying so hard to impress me,” Mom would say, bubbling over her glass of wine.

“Yep, washed and waxed the old station wagon, before I picked her up,” Dad chimed in, “and spent damn near every cent I had on that first dinner.”

“Not thinking about how he would pay for the next date.”

“Heck, I didn't know there was going to be another date. Figured I'd might as well give that one my best shot.” He'd wipe off his mouth and lean back in his chair. “Besides, that was a different time in my life. I was working my way through school, going paycheck to paycheck before I could make any real money.”

Things are quieter tonight. My folks don't reminisce about times past, hardly even looking at one another. A lot of the talking's left up to me, bouncing between the two of them and my grandmother. I'm grateful when the food comes, and there's less pressure for conversation.

When the check comes, my father stops the waiter, hands him a credit card, and sends him back on the way.

“You didn't have to pay, John,” Mom says.

Dad waves her off, drinking deeply from his glass of red wine. “It's fine.”

“I'm just saying that you didn't have to,” Mom repeats. “I'm making good money in Florida now.”

“I don't doubt it.”

The waiter returns with a slip. “Have a good night, and Merry Christmas to you,” he says with a nod and polite smile.

“ Preston ,” Mom says, “would you mind pulling the car around for us?”

“Yeah—no problem,” I say, getting up as my dad signs the slip.

“I'll head out there too,” Grandmas says, getting up after me.

It occurs to me what's going on, and I almost feel bad leaving my folks alone—like I'm setting up my father. But then, I don't exactly want to stay here and watch this happen either.

So I walk outside, only turning back once. My father looks up as we're walking away, and my mother touches his hand, bringing his attention back to her. She'll tell him about Avery, and their future. It's going to destroy my father, but he probably won't say a word, or at least not much more than a few, cursory sentences. Then I'll drive the women back to Grandma's apartment, as my father drives home alone.

Grandma takes a hold of my arm as we walk away.