“Merry Christmas, Mr. Seaborn.”
“Just call me Teddy.”
“See you later, Teddy.”
Jake gives my upper arm a squeeze once they’ve walked off. “You good?”
“Yeah. It was nice to meet Oscar and his grandpa. I hope his dad recovers quickly.”
As we head toward the elevator, I keep hearing the kid’s voice, the spark in it when he said my name. Like it meant something. Maybe it does. Maybe it still can.
21
IVY
DECEMBER 25
The truck ride to the hospital is filled with cheerful holiday tunes and the occasional squeak of windshield wipers. The roads are dusted with snow, more slush than sparkle. Christmas lights in many colors blink from brownstones as we pass.
“Remember the time you put the tree up without checking the lights first?” I glance at Dad with a smirk.
He groans dramatically. “Don’t remind me. An entire afternoon of decorating, and bam, half the string was dead. I thought your mother was going to banish me from Christmas altogether.”
The memory makes me giggle. “She almost did, making you drive out for more lights even though it was raining cats and dogs.”
“Worth it. That tree looked like something out of Rockefeller Center.”
More like Rockefeller Center on a budget,I think. “Minus the lopsided angel.”
“You kids picked her. She had character.”
I roll my eyes. “Character? She looked like she’d been through an existential crisis, Dad.”
“That’s family tradition. Nothing’s perfect, but it’s ours.”
“That’s true.”
The music in the background makes me think of another holiday years ago. Dad insisted on singing along to every carol the neighborhood choir performed that season, even though he only knew half the words. Us kids ended up laughing so hard we nearly choked on candy canes.
“The hospital will be pretty quiet tonight, right?” Dad comments as we get closer. “At least compared to the usual.”
“Usually it is as most families visit in the morning. Volunteers run the dinner shifts and cafeteria. The neuro wing has a few who work through the holidays. There’s a quota we follow.”
“Mhmm. Like you do.”
“Dad, you know why I work holidays.” I resist the urge to sigh. We have this conversation every time the holidays roll around. “The pay is better, and I need to save money for the Circuit. To afford the three months off, I have to do twelve months worth of work in nine.”
He sighs, understanding why I work long hours but not liking it. “I know. Still, your mom and I wonder how you’re doing with all the stress at your job and all the extra training.”
There it is. The question I never have a good answer for. I could tell him about the sleepless nights and the constant grindof pretending I’ve got it all handled. But what would that fix? Things will ease once I’m back on the Circuit. Until then, I have to push through, even if I might be closer to burnout than I would like to admit.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s your usual refrain, Bubbles. Even when you’re not.”
“Not sure what to tell you, Dad.” I let out the frustrated sigh I tried to hold in. “No need to worry yourself with my problems.”
“That’s what parents do. Your mom and I are always here to listen if you wanna talk.”
