But I won’t sit idly by either and wait for Jimmy to drop the bombshell. Either I’ll find another job or I’ll make myself and my department so vital that no one will be able to get rid of us.
With a final heartfeltfuck, I climb out of the car and walk up the snow-covered path to the front door. No sooner have I brushed the wreath out of my face and opened the door than Nick’s sprinting toward me in his teddy bear jammies with a blanket trailing from his neck like a cape.
“Mommy!”
“Baby!” I fall to my knees, ignoring the smarting of pain when they collide with the paneled floor, and sweep Nick into my arms the moment he makes contact. “Why are you still awake? You, mister, should be sleeping! Yes, you should!”
Nick dissolves into high-pitched, excitable laughter under my tickling fingers and he attempts to escape by rolling off my lapand onto the floor, but I follow him, crawling over him and tickling him until he’s screaming and gasping.
“Stop!” he yells between bursts of laughter. “I give up. I give up!”
“Aha!” I chuckle, lightly poking his stomach. “Once again, the great Superman has fallen to me, making me thegreatestvillain of all time!” With maniacal laughter, I stand and scoop Nick into my arms while kicking the front door closed. “The city is mine!”
“No!” Nick yells and he flops back dramatically in my arms. “I will never let the city fall!”
“What secrets and sneaky plans do you have under that cape, hmm?”
“I’ll never tell!”
I tickle his ribs and he squeals, laughing, and it quickly turns into a yawn while I carry him through the hallway and into the living room. “Is that a yawn?”
“No.” Nick yawns widely.
“Then why can I see all your teeth? And I can definitely see that you haven’t brushed, Mister.”
“I did!” Nick pouts and then he cackles. “I didn’t!”
“Well, as punishment for your defeat, I want those teeth brushed, okay?” I set Nick down and he nods, sending his brown curls scattering about his head.
“Fine.” Crossing his little arms, he stomps out of the living room. I watch him stomp into the downstairs bathroom. Passing the doorway, I linger until I see toothpaste messily squeezed onto his brush and entering his mouth, then I continue on to the kitchen.
“Mom?”
She stands by the kitchen window, gazing out at the blanket of snow draped over the back yard and highlighted by the warm yellow light streaming from the kitchen. “Calliope.”
“What happened, Mom? We did New Year's early for him this afternoon. He’s supposed to be asleep by now.”
“You know how unruly he gets. He’s a little boy.” Mom refuses to look at me.
“Did you do everything I asked?”
“I always do. This isn’t my fault,” Mom snaps, finally throwing a look over her shoulder. “It’s that tablet you gave him. It tells him all sorts of things and he worked out that you lied about the bells.”
I close my eyes, resting one hand on my hip. “It wasn’t a lie, it was just a way to make tonight easier for you. You knew I had the party to organize.”
“As if that’s more important than your family,” Mom snaps, turning to face me. On the counter behind her lie the remaining wrappers of two chocolate Santas.
My heart sinks and exhaustion pulls at my eyes. “Just one piece of chocolate, huh?”
She glances back at the wrappers and then covers one with her hand. “It was a tradition I had with your father. Chocolate Santa at New Year. I just wanted to feel close to him.”
“I could have done that with you, not Nick.”
“You weren’t here,” she mutters tightly. “You’re never here.”
I bite back the argument rising within me. Things are tough without Dad. Everything and anything reminds me of him, just like it can send Mom to tears at the drop of a hat. I’m fighting to be understanding because grief is different for both of us, but she’s making it so difficult.
Or maybe I am.
