17
NICK
If someone would’ve told me I’d be sitting on the couch watchingElfwith my daughter the day before Christmas Eve, I would’ve told them they were fuckin’ crazy, but here I am enjoying the hell out of it.
I pop another cookie in my mouth, and Portia laughs. “Dad, stop eating all the cookies.”
“If you didn’t want me to eat them, you shouldn’t have made them so good.”
The movie ends, and Portia turns to me, her face serious. “You know, in a way you’re like Walter, Buddy’s father.”
“How so?”
“Well,” she smiles, “you were grumpy like him, and then Buddy got him in the holiday spirit, and to believe in Christmas.”
“You think I was grumpy?”
“Yes,” Cheryl says, coming into the family room. “You were just like Scrooge, but for some reason, today you’re . . .”
“I’m what?”
“Happy.” Cheryl widens her eyes. “There’s no other way to put it.”
“You seem shocked. Like I can’t be happy?”
“Mom’s right,” Portia adds, “you were a little like Scrooge McDuck inMickey’s Christmas Carol, but like Mom said, now you’re happy.”
Since I’m not up with kids’ Christmas shows, I just smile and assume this is a good thing. I see now what Cheryl and even Portia were trying to show me the last few days. Never having any happy holidays as a kid, growing up was all about survival with little time for celebration. Work and more work at an obsessive rate with the constant fear of reliving my past.
As I found out last night, I can’t change my past no matter how hard I try, so, maybe it’s time to accept it, finally put it behind me, and kick back and enjoy the present before it all slips away.
My phone buzzes, and I swipe at the familiar number. “Yeah?”
“Meet us at the Gold Mine in thirty minutes,” Cobra rasps into the phone.
“Got it.”
Cheryl’s face sobers. “Who was that?”
“Gotta go out.” I kiss Portia’s head and push off the couch. “I won’t be long.”
I head for the back door, and Cheryl follows me. “You just told her you were going to spend the whole day with her.”
“And I am.” I hold up my phone. “But I gotta take care of something first.”
“More important than your daughter?”
“Right now, equally important, and doing this now means I’ll have all day Christmas Eve and Christmas to spend with her.”
She nods at my phone. “That was Samson with some problem at Wicked, right?”
“No, and no.” I shove my phone in my pocket.
She grabs my hand. “There’s something I should’ve told you about Graham Pierce, but I don’t want you to get all crazy.”
“I know all about Pierce.”
“You do?”
