13
BECCA
The sound of the coffee machine starting to brew my morning coffee is the only thing driving me to be awake right now.
Usually, Mom would already have a pot made when I get up, but not having her here this week has put a few things into perspective.
It does feel nice to be independent again, but it also makes me see how much she actually does to help me. I need to thank her more often for all she gets accomplished around here.
It’ll have to wait, since I got a call last night from both my parents, telling me that their trip has to be extended by another week or so. Apparently, the mess they have to clean up is a lot bigger than anticipated.
That was fine by me because it gives me a few more days and nights of calm, having to hide my relationship with Steven from two fewer people.
I’ve already set it up with my grandmother to be free this week if I need her to watch Damian last minute. I also asked Stevenlast night if I could bring him along to work again. Of course, he agreed.
I’m not sure if it’s because he enjoys spending time with Damian or if he’s giving me special treatment. Either way, it works in my favor.
Sighing, still wishing I was in bed, I pour the fresh coffee into the largest mug my parents own.
Today is finally Saturday, and while I’d love to sleep in, I woke up to the sound of Damian rummaging through his dresser in the room next to mine.
He has been antsy about getting to meet Santa all week, and now that the day is finally here, there’s no taming him.
The thought makes me laugh as I pour some cinnamon roll creamer into my steaming hot cup of coffee.
Surprisingly, the week taking him to work with me went smoother than I could’ve hoped. Now, I’m not so nervous about having Steven around my son. In fact, Steven has been bonding with him, which melts my heart to see.
And a positive, Steven hasn’t caught on to the fact that I lied to him about all of this, even who the father was.
But seeing them together makes me regret leaving when his parents scared me off. Steven would make an incredible father. The fact that I, along with his parents, kept him from performing those duties is highly unfair to him.
If he were ever to find out, I wouldn’t blame him for hating me. I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and learning that I’ve had a child for all this time and was lied to.
To be honest, I feel like a bad mother hiding the truth from Damian. Every time I lie to him, my heart breaks even more. Damian already idolizes Steven…so maybe the truth won’t hurt as badly as I think it will.
It was selfish of me, but at the time, I thought I was doing the best thing for all of us. When I got confronted outside of the ob-gyn’s office, they were so angry that one of their precious sons impregnated a dirty Gallagher.
And every time I want to tell Steven, those words haunt me. Like my name is vile, when I did nothing wrong. They hold onto a grudge that is older than I am. It’s not fair.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Damian shouts as he runs out into the kitchen. Looking down, I start to laugh, seeing the Christmas sweater and Santa hat he threw on. That must be what the noise was all about earlier.
“I’m ready to meet Santa!”
“You certainly are,” I respond, kneeling in front of him to fix his skewed hat. “Alright, now you’re ready. Let me grab my boots, and we can go. We’ll get breakfast while we’re there.”
He beats me to the car and is trying to buckle himself in as I reach his side. Once he’s secured, I back out of the driveway, and we are on our way to meet Santa.
Damian’s eyes light up as we enter Christmas Wonderland. He still holds onto my hand, but he attempts to pull me faster, pointing out all the decorations and people walking around dressed up as elves.
“He has to be close, look at all the elves,” he shouts. I hear him gasp, and he stops walking. In front of him, across the courtyard, sits Santa in his large, red chair.
Before I know it, he’s pulling me toward the long line. I try my best to listen as he rambles a million miles a second about everything on his Christmas list. A few toys, some magic supplies, even a long, felty cape that the professionals wear.
Some of those things I have already gotten for him, and they are hiding in the back of my closet. But now I know what else I have to buy.
As snow starts to fall lightly from the sky, Damian starts to catch some of the flakes in his gloved hands. I kneel and help him inspect each one. “You know, snowflakes are like people. No single one is exactly the same,” I say softly.
He smiles as a larger one lands in his palm. I stand back up and inspect the nonmoving line, wondering how long we’ll be waiting. But my attention is dragged back to Damian as I hear him say Steven’s name.
