Christmas With You

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Hello?” my wife’s soft voice drifts through the phone.

  I close my eyes briefly before I clear my throat and repeat her sentiment, and ask, “How are you?” This is the first time we’ve spoken since she served me with papers. That night, I drove over to the house, determined to confront my wife, but when I got there, I couldn’t bring myself to get out of my truck. The lights were out, all except for the glow coming from the television. I stood and wondered what Christmas movie the two of the most important women in my life were watching. I thought about knocking, but the anger I had that night was too much, and I feared … well, everything.

  “I’m fine, busy. Ruby will be at your mom’s after school. You can pick her up there.”

  I sigh and run my hand over my face and hair and then back down. “About tonight.”

  “Rory.” My name sounds harsh, as if she’s gritting her teeth. “Don’t do this. Not this week.”

  “Jerry—”

  “I don’t care about Jerry, and neither does Ruby. You promised, Rory. You promised our daughter that you’d take her tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about.”

  “Can you listen to me for one minute, Gwen? Please?”

  “Fine,” she huffs.

  I sit taller in my chair, as if doing so will help me get my point across to Gwen. This is the part of my life that she doesn’t understand, and it’s the part that’s ruined my marriage. “Jerry moved his annual holiday party to tonight; otherwise, taking Ruby wouldn’t be a problem. He’s expecting us to show up, together. What do you say about asking my mom to take Ruby tonight, and you and I could go to the party?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I would never joke about spending time with you.”

  She laughs or maybe it’s a sneeze, I can’t be sure. “Let me understand you correctly. You want to cancel on your daughter so you can attend a party?”

  “Noooo,” I say, dragging out the word. “I want us to go out, like husband and wife. It’s a cookie-decorating thing at church. Surely I can make it up to her.”

  “You’re unbelievable, Rory.”

  “What?” I ask dumbly. “You’ve always enjoyed the Gences’ parties.”

  “Actually, I find his wife to be pretentious, their house over-decorated, and their yippy dogs extremely annoying.”

  “Jerry’s eccentric.”

  “Nice excuse for someone who is rude and condescending. The answer is no.” She pauses and mumbles something incoherently. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to Ruby.”

  “You know, if he wasn’t such an important client, I wouldn’t be calling, but he is. You know this.” I can’t help the defensive tone in my voice. We’ve had this same conversation repeatedly, and it never solves anything.

  “The only thing I know is that you can’t keep a promise to your own daughter, that you put this man and his money before everything.”

  “His money is what pays for the life you have, Gwen.”

  She scoffs. “There are other clients, other people who need to invest money, Rory. Jerry isn’t the be all that ends all in the financial world, and right now I don’t care. The only thing I care about is now I have to break it to Ruby that, once again, you’re choosing this man and his family over your own.”

  “It’s not like that, Gwen,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I wish you could see the difference.”

  “Well, I can’t, and I won’t until you see and admit that you’ve allowed this man to dictate our lives. That you’ve allowed your job to become between us when it didn’t have to. I know, Rory … I know you think this is how you provide for your family because it’s how your father did it, but we don’t live in a world like that anymore. Times have changed. I need my husband, and Ruby needs her father.”

  She hangs up before I can even form the words needed to tell her that I completely understand, but that my hands are tied and that canceling on Ruby is the last thing I want to do.

  I don’t know how long I sit there with the receiver dangling. I don’t seem to care about the annoying signal coming through my phone. And I definitely don’t care about the tears dripping from my eyes.

  What I care about is that this is the first time I’ve cried since Gwen and I separated, and I want to know why. Am I so heartless that I can’t shed a tear when the woman I love asks me to move out? Am I missing some emotional element that lets me feel, or am I just numb to it all?

  A knock on my office door startles me into action. I place the receiver back, wipe my face, and clear my throat before telling whoever’s on the other side to come in. Terence Sims steps in with his hand held up. He’s holding a manila envelope, and instantly my heart drops. The divorce is the last thing I want to deal with, especially tonight.

  “Just thought I’d drop these by on my way home.” He sets the envelope on the corner of my desk and uses one index finger to slide it toward me.

  “So kind of you,” I tell him. As soon as Terence starts to sit, I stand up and reach for my sport coat. “I was just leaving.”

  “This will only take a minute. I highlighted the changes, and I just need your signature.”

  Shaking my head, I slip into my coat and step into my galoshes. “Sorry, not tonight.”

  “Rory, it’s our counter. It’d be best if Gwen’s attorney heard our argument sooner rather than later, and I’d really like to have the pages on his desk before I take vacation.”

  “I’ll read it tonight.” I won’t, but I pick up the papers and give them a good shake to show Terence I’m serious. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

  He rises slowly from one of the chairs that sits in front of my desk. He looks at me doubtfully but finally nods and makes his way to my office door. With his hand on the knob, he turns and looks at me. It’s not a smile on his face or a frown but a look of confusion. I stand there, with my wool coat resting over my arm, waiting for him to say something, and when he decides to leave instead of confronting me, my shoulders sag in relief. Without any hesitation, I pick up the dark yellow packet and drop it into the bin destined for the shredder.

  Outside, the sights, scents, and sounds of Christmas are all around me. The town recreation department spent most of the afternoon putting up the park’s Christmas tree in preparation for the lighting ceremony. Carolers are on the street corner, singing their hearts out, and the coffee shop has a line out the door, likely to get hot cocoa or a warm cup of apple cider.

  There were many times after I’d leave work that I’d find Gwen and Ruby waiting in line. I look now, hoping to catch them, but I know I won’t. It’s too early, and Ruby’s still in school. That thought pulls me to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. People smile, call my name, and wish me a merry Christmas as they walk by, but I’m focused on my thoughts. My daughter should be out of school right now, and I should be at work. It’s rare that I ever leave early, and according to Gwen, when I do, I’m angry, resentful, and often complaining about the work I’ve left behind. Yet, because of Jerry, I’m on my way to my one-room apartment at the Cozy Cottage with my college-size refrigerator and portable hot plate to get ready for his party instead of being a father and following through with my promise to my daughter. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

  Instead of heading to my apartment, I cross the road and walk toward the church, hoping to catch Gwen before she takes Ruby inside. People stop, wanting to talk, telling me how sorry they are for what I’m going through and inviting me to their home for the holidays. I hadn’t even thought about where I’d spend Christmas, because I honestly thought Gwen and I would make up. But how can we, if I’m not willing to make the changes needed to keep my family together?

  By the time I reach the church, the parking lot is full. I walk around back, stopping to look into one of the windows. Years ago, Reverend John asked us all to come together to create steps and install larger windows so the basement could meet the fire code and be used for functions. I’ve never been more thankful than I am n
ow that I helped, because it’s giving me a chance to watch my family.

  My wife has her hair up in one of those buns that she rarely leaves the house wearing. I put her in that position when I told her I couldn’t take Ruby. My daughter’s sitting at one of the tables, by herself, slowly decorating a cookie while all the other children are laughing and happily putting the packages together that they’ll deliver to all the local businesses. Their unhappiness is because of me.

  I stand there until I start to shiver, but I don’t leave. I sit on the bench outside, waiting for them to come out. I don’t know what I’ll say to them, because telling them I’m sorry doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough.

  Gabe sits down next to me and hands me a foam cup. “You look sad.”

  “That obvious?”

  “I know sadness,” he says, taking a sip of his own cup. Undoubtedly, he has a story to tell. Maybe he’s a war veteran who suffers from PTSD and left his family behind, or maybe he’s like me, a workaholic who didn’t spend enough time with his family. For all I know, he gave everything up and never looked back. Maybe life’s easier this way.

  “Are you a member of this fine establishment?” Gabe nods toward the white church.

  “I used to be but haven’t been in a long time.”

  “So you sit outside and wait for an invitation?”

  “My family is in the basement. I was supposed to be there, but I let work get in the way.”

  “And you can’t go see them?”

  I shake my head. “My wife … we’re separated, and I haven’t done a decent enough job to show her how much she means to me.”

  “Am I to understand that you don’t want this separation?”

  I shake my head. “Not in a million years, but I’ve been a bad husband and my wife and daughter deserve better.”

  “I’m sure you don’t want my advice.”

  I look over at the disheveled man. “I’d happily take advice from you.”

  He turns and smiles. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verse four.”

  The way Gabe speaks, so eloquently and full of truth, I have no choice but to get lost in his words he speaks. I let them all sink in and repeat them in my head, over and over again until he stands. “Wait.” I reach for him, grabbing his hand so he doesn’t leave me. “It can’t be that simple. Gwen knows I love her.”

  “Does she?” he asks. I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. I let go of his hand and watch him walk away until I can no longer see him. The alarm on my phone goes off. It’s the reminder I set for Jerry’s party. I silence it and turn back toward the church to wait for my family.

  Chapter Four

  Gwen

  The phone in the kitchen rings. In my heart, I know it’s Rory. It’s too early to deal with him, so I ignore it, hoping he leaves a voice mail or sends me a text message. When the ringing stops, I sigh, only to have my heart pound out of my chest at the sound of Ruby squealing in delight. I rush downstairs with my robe flowing behind me as if I’m a superhero. Only I’m not. I’m a wreck who can’t be bothered to do her hair, put makeup on, or even take a shower most days.

  “Ruby, who’s on the phone?” I know the answer, so I’m not sure why I’d ask her. I’m tempted to take the receiver away from her, to hang it up and shoo her upstairs to get ready for her concert, but I don’t. I can’t even bring myself to get ready for tonight. I think, if I were to look like the old Gwen, the parents would be shocked. They’re so used to this mess of a woman I’ve become.

  “Daddy,” she says, covering the bottom of the phone. I want to laugh and tell her she’s cute, but I don’t. “He’s talking to me.”

  I busy myself with a cup of tea while I try to eavesdrop on their conversation. Whatever he’s saying to her, she’s excited. But I hope he’s not promising her anything. Another broken promise and I might come unglued. The way he brushes us aside, the way he thinks I’ll always pick up the broken pieces, has taken its toll. Last night was the last time I’ll do his bidding where our daughter is concerned.

  “Okay, bye bye, Daddy.” Ruby holds the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you,” she says with the bottom covered again. “Be nice and don’t hurt his feelings.” She hands me the phone and crosses her arms.

  I smile, but on the inside, I’m raging and making a mental note to talk to my therapist and maybe set an appointment for my child as well. I try not to let her words sting, but they do. She has no idea about last night, how her father chose a client over her. She only knows that he couldn’t make it. Ruby was upset, and I tried to make the situation better by telling her that her father would make it up to her. I don’t know why I continue to protect him, to make excuses for him. I don’t know why I take the brunt of her anger when it should be directed at him, but I do. I take every little jab and side remark she throws at me, because I’m her mother and I’m not about to shatter her world.

  “Go get dressed for your concert,” I tell her. I expect her to stomp away, but she doesn’t. She starts singing one of her songs and skips out of the kitchen. I wait until I hear her thumping up the stairs before clearing my throat. “Hello?”

  “Gwennie.”

  My eyes close, and my heart skips a beat at the nickname Rory gave me years ago. It’s been years since I’ve heard it though. There’s so much that I want to say to him right now. Mostly though, I want to know why he’s called me that after so many years of forgetting to use it. “Rory.”

  He chuckles because this is nothing more than a game to him. I close my eyes and ask God for the will to get through this phone call. “Ruby has a concert this evening, right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because I’m going to be there. Six thirty?”

  “Did you tell her this?” I ask, needing to know if I have to mentally prepare her for when he doesn’t show up. And prepare myself.

  “Why wouldn’t I tell her?”

  I throw my free hand up in the air, even though no one is around to see how dramatic I am. It’s definitely an Oscar-worthy performance right here in my kitchen. “I don’t know, Rory, maybe because you didn’t show up last night and I had to break it to her. I had to lie for you.”

  “I was there last night.”

  “Except you weren’t,” I say through gritted teeth. I try to calm down, but the anger is rolling through me. He’s so clueless, but he never used to be. “In case you were wondering, I was the one with our brokenhearted daughter, trying to get her to smile.”

  “Look, I was there. I just couldn’t bring myself to walk in after I saw you in there. You looked …” He pauses, and in the background I can hear paper being shuffled around. “See you at six thirty. Save me a seat.”

  He hangs up before I can tell him to find his own seat. It’s no use, and he’s leaving me no choice but to put my foot down. I dial my lawyer’s number. It’s late, and the call goes through to voice mail. “This is Gwen Sutton …”

  “Mommy,” Ruby’s voice startles me, and I hang up. If I’m going to tell my attorney about her father and his failed promises, it’s going to have to be when Ruby can’t walk in on me. “Mommy,” she says again from the doorway into the kitchen.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I need your help.” Standing there is my little girl with her dress on, looking flustered. Gone is the curt tone she had with me earlier. I know she doesn’t mean it, but it still hurts.

  “Come here, let me button your dress.” She does, turning when she gets to me. “What would you like me to do with your hair?” I ask as I pat down her unruly curls only to have them spring up again.

  Ruby shrugs. “A ponytail with some ribbon?”

  “You got it. I’ll follow you up.” T
ogether we climb the stairs and head into my bathroom where she takes a seat at my vanity. I try not to look at myself, but I can’t help it. If I’m going to look somewhat presentable, a pound of makeup is going to be required.

  After fixing Ruby’s hair, I tell her I need to shower and get ready. “Why don’t you watch television on my bed and try not to wrinkle your dress?”

  “Okay.”

  I stand in the doorway, watching as she climbs onto the bed and settles herself in with the remote in her hand. After Rory moved out, my shower routine changed. I was a quick ten-minute person once the water came on, but now I stay in until the water turns cold and my fingers have pruned. It’s peaceful and gives me time to cry, away from the prying eyes of my daughter. Tonight, though, I take a quick shower so I can get ready and look somewhat human for her concert.

  When I come out, there’s a dress lying on my bed for me. “What’s this?” I ask Ruby.

  She shrugs. “I thought you could look pretty for Daddy.”

  I force a smile and fight the urge to tell her he won’t show up, regardless of what I’m wearing. I bite the inside of my cheek instead and take the dress back into my bathroom to get ready, rushing through my routine, angry with myself because I don’t have time to dry my hair fully. “This is what divorce does to you,” I say to myself in the mirror. Too bad the person staring back at me doesn’t tell me to snap out of it or remind me that this is what I wanted.

  By the time we get to the school, I’m a bottle of nerves. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why. It’s not like I haven’t spoken to Rory since he left, although we haven’t seen each other much, unless it’s been in passing. I’ve been a coward and left Ruby at his mother’s on the days he takes her. It’s easier that way, at least for me.