by Marie Sexton
They stayed like that for a moment, Cody debating what to do, Nate just watching him, until Cody finally realized he needed to speak. He needed to say something to let Nate know that he’d done everything right.
“I missed you like crazy,” Cody finally said. “I’m really glad to have you back.”
And the smile Nate gave him was like warm August sunshine on the icy mass of his grief.
Cody gave up trying to explain to Nate why they shouldn’t let their friendship be seen at school. Nothing he said changed Nate’s mind, and Cody was happy enough to have the desk next to him in social studies not go empty.
Every morning, Nate picked Cody up on his way to school, then drove him home or to work at the end of the day. Sometimes he even picked Cody up after work and drove him home. And any hour that wasn’t taken by school, the Tomahawk, or sleeping, they spent together. Sometimes they watched TV or played with the deck of cards Cody had retrieved from the wagon. Sometimes, if the weather was nice, they drove around in Nate’s car, exploring the back roads that surrounded Warren. Weeknights were often spent doing nothing more than sitting at Cody’s kitchen table working on homework together. And if Cody felt Nate’s gaze on him more often than seemed normal, if he noticed the way Nate sat a bit too close on the couch or found any excuse at all to touch him, Cody chose to chalk it up to friendly concern.
Some nights, Cody found himself drifting in that warm, surreal place between sleep and reality. Sometimes, in those hazy moments, he imagined kissing Nate again. Sometimes he replayed a moment from the day when Nate had found a reason to reach across the table and take his hand. But when consciousness came, he steadfastly refused to acknowledge those thoughts. The memory of more than a month of the silent treatment was enough to keep him grounded in reality. He’d risked everything once, only to have Nate turn his back. He couldn’t bear for that to happen again.
Besides, he had bigger things to worry about. Namely, his mother.
Or, to be more accurate, the complete absence of his mother.
She’d switched to the evening shift a few weeks before homecoming. It meant she didn’t get up until Cody was already at work, or at school. She left before he got home, and didn’t come home herself until he was asleep. It meant they rarely saw each other. It was something that had happened before, and Cody was used to taking care of himself.
But at some point, he’d begun to realize that she wasn’t coming home at all. The pile of unopened mail on the countertop grew taller. Some of them were coming with “past due” stamped in red across the envelopes.
The Tuesday before Christmas break, Cody woke to the sound of a train barreling down the tracks less than twenty yards from his trailer. He glanced out of habit at the digital clock radio next to his bed. The display was blank, and Cody frowned, sitting up to rub his eyes. What the hell time was it? The house was still dark, as was the sky outside. That meant it was before seven, but he had no way of knowing how long he had before Nate arrived.
He wandered into the kitchen. Nothing happened when he hit the light switch. He squinted at the old-fashioned battery-powered clock hanging on the wall, and finally determined it was six thirty. He had plenty of time, but having the power out was going to make for a damned cold shower. It happened on a regular basis in the spring and fall when lightning storms were common, but it generally only happened in the winter if they had a blizzard. The ground was still blanketed with snow from the last storm, but the roads were dry, so it hadn’t snowed during the night.
He caught sight of Vera through the window and rushed onto the front porch to catch her before she climbed into her car, undoubtedly headed for the gas station.
“Hey, Vera?”
She turned toward him, although her expression was lost in the dim light. “Yeah?”
“Is the power out at your place?”
“Nope. Working just fine.”
Cody’s heart sank. Vera had power, but Cody didn’t. There was only one explanation.
He took the pile of mail, sat down at the kitchen table, and started opening envelopes. He was still sorting through it when Nate arrived, and he had to hurry to get dressed while Nate waited, his brow furrowed with curiosity.
“Do you think you can take me uptown after school?” Cody asked, once they were in the car.
“I still can’t figure out why it isn’t ‘downtown.’ I mean, it’s downhill from most everything else.”
“From Orange Grove, maybe.”
Nate shook his head, looking amused. “Whatever. I can take you. Why? What’s up?”
Cody hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to say. It was true Nate knew most of the sordid truth about his home life now, but this felt extreme. He chose to change the subject rather than answer. “Are you going home for Christmas?” It was something he’d been wondering, but hadn’t asked. He’d been afraid of the answer.
“No.”
“Oh.” That surprised him, and Nate must have heard it in his voice, because he sighed.
“Remember how I told you that my parents split up because my dad had an affair?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I was wrong. Turns out it was my mom. And her new boyfriend is already living there with her, in the house I grew up in, and he doesn’t want me around.”
Cody knew exactly how it felt to have a parent not want you around. His own father hadn’t even bothered sending a birthday card in years. “That sucks.”
Nate’s shrug was a bit too forced to be casual. “I don’t mind, to tell you the truth. I’d rather be here with you anyway.”
It took three stops after school to pay the rent and the more urgent of the bills. The electric company promised to have the power back on in a day or two. In the meantime, Cody had to hope it didn’t get too cold. He almost wanted to cry as he handed over his money. He’d only been a few dollars away from a brand-new pair of snow boots. Now, he’d face the winter in his Converse. Still, he didn’t resent the loss of footwear so much as the simple loss of his money. Somehow, having that bundle of cash tucked into his drawer had given him hope. Each dollar he added felt like a promise. Now, he was back to less than ten dollars in his pocket until payday rolled around again. At least with Christmas break starting soon, he’d be able to pick up a few extra shifts.
The days rolled by with no sign of his mother, and he began to worry. She’d been gone before for a few days here and there, but never this long. They didn’t have long-distance service, so one afternoon, Cody walked to the gas station and pumped two dollars in quarters into the pay phone in order to call the truck stop, but they said only, “She isn’t here right now,” before hanging up.
On one hand, that made it sound like there was no reason to panic. On the other hand, she still hadn’t come home. He felt like he should call somebody, but he couldn’t think who. His mom’s parents were both deceased. Her sister, Shirley, lived in Cheyenne, but Cody hadn’t seen her since he was ten years old. It would have cost him another two dollars to call her. It seemed like a waste when he was ninety-nine percent sure his mom wouldn’t be there. Any other family Cody might once have had were on his father’s side. He hadn’t talked to any of them in years and was pretty sure his mom hadn’t either. He debated calling the police, but what good would it do? It’d just be one more mark against his family in their book. And besides, it might be Nate’s dad who showed up to take the report, and that scared him for some reason he couldn’t quite explain.
School ended, and Cody signed up for every shift at the Tomahawk he could find that needed to be covered. He saw the way Nate frowned when he told him. He knew Nate had been counting on him for company over the break, but Nate didn’t have to worry about things like waking up to find the power had been turned off. Nate at least had one parent who paid the bills and made sure he was home by curfew and took the time to put food in the pantry.
As for where Cody’s mom was, there seemed to be two options. Either something had happened to her and she wasn’t able to get h
ome, or she’d simply decided to leave.
He wasn’t sure which possibility bothered him more.
She’d be home for Christmas. He hung on to that thought like a talisman. Certainly she wouldn’t leave him alone for Christmas morning.
The Tomahawk was closed on Christmas Eve, and Nate’s dad had to work, so Cody and Nate spent the entire day in Nate’s family room, watching Christmas specials on cable TV. Nate and his dad had a giant tree covered with lights and brand-new, store-bought ornaments. Cody counted at least two-dozen presents under the tree. Nate popped popcorn and did his best to be cheery, but between Logan’s death and his mom’s absence, Cody couldn’t manage to match his mood.
They left Nate’s house shortly before his dad was due home. Nate kept glancing Cody’s way in the gloom of the little pickup truck’s cab. Cody found himself thinking of the Robertson family, wondering how they’d celebrate this year with both of their children gone. Wondering if they’d still take that trip to Mexico. He knew reveling in his melancholy did no good, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Maybe I should come in,” Nate said as he parked in front of Cody’s trailer.
“Your dad’ll be waiting. You should be with him.”
Nate glanced at the dark windows of Cody’s home. He reached over and took Cody’s hand, his warm fingers wrapping around Cody’s. “You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” And at least he’d had most of the day with Nate.
“I’ll come over as soon as I can tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t have to do that. Your dad will want—”
“He works at noon anyway.”
Cody sighed, relenting. Having Nate there would certainly make the day more bearable. “Okay.”
He moved to open the door, but Nate didn’t let go of his hand. “Cody?”
“Yeah?”
Nate took a breath, but didn’t speak. Cody waited, trying to read Nate’s expression in the dark. He wondered if Nate would ask about his mother. If he’d tell Cody how sorry he was that Cody didn’t have a better life. Sometimes Cody wanted that confirmation, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes, it felt too much like pity, and pity made him uncomfortable.
“Merry Christmas,” Nate said at last.
Cody only nodded, but Nate finally let go of his hand and let him go inside.
Cody fell asleep that night dreaming of Christmas. He dreamed of magical mornings where he emerged from his room to find a tree in the living room, bright and gaudy with decorations, and a modest pile of presents underneath. He dreamed of a single stocking, hung with a tapestry pin from the back of the couch. He was younger in his dream, although his exact age seemed to ebb and flow, but however old he was, he still had the bright, unabashed hope of youth.
The belief that Santa could perform miracles.
He didn’t want to open his eyes when he awoke the next morning.
The house was silent. He sat on the edge of his bed for several long minutes, steeling himself for what he knew he’d find. It took only a glance out the window to see that his mom’s rusty Duster hadn’t appeared. There was no tree in the living room, no stocking stuffed with candy, no presents to unwrap at all. There was no Santa, and no magic, and no reason to even get out of bed.
Not until later, at least, when Nate would show up.
He spent the morning looking through the bills again. It had become his primary pastime when Nate wasn’t around to see. He’d taken care of the most urgent ones, but more were due each day, and the late fees on a few were as much as the original bill. He counted the hours he’d worked since his last payday and tried to figure out exactly how much would be deducted before he even saw the check.
He wouldn’t have enough to cover them all. That much was clear. He’d have to prioritize, pay what he could, knowing the others would have past-due notices by January. Was this why his mother had left? Because she’d finally gotten tired of staring at that pile of paper on the counter, knowing she’d never be able to make ends meet?
He showered and dressed, not wanting to be in sweats when Nate showed up, then made himself breakfast. He’d used the last of his money two days earlier to buy bread, peanut butter, a box of off-brand cereal, and a half gallon of milk. He hadn’t wanted Nate to know, so he’d gone to the gas station after Nate was gone. He knew it was stupid—the food there cost more than it did at the grocery store—but the grocery store was two miles away, and the gas station offered a certain amount of comfort. Vera hadn’t said anything when he put the food on the counter, but when he’d come up seventy-two cents short, she’d frowned. Cody had eyed the groceries, trying to decide which thing to put back, but she’d taken his money and started putting the food in a bag before he could choose.
“But, I don’t have enough—”
“I’m sure I got that much in my purse, and if don’t, then it won’t matter none if the drawer’s a few cents short. Sometimes my countin’ ain’t so good anyway. What’ll they do? Fire me?”
He swallowed, torn between embarrassment and gratitude. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I think you got enough troubles of your own, kid. Don’t worry none about mine.”
He hadn’t argued, and he said a silent thank-you to her again as he ate a bowl of cereal on Christmas morning. He stashed the bills out of sight, turned on the TV, spent a good fifteen minutes adjusting the antenna to get the picture as clear as it could be without cable, and waited for Nate to arrive.
He came shortly after noon, as promised. He was smiling ear to ear, his cheeks red from the cold, a big basket wrapped in plastic tucked under his arm.
“It’s snowing!” he said as Cody let him in. “Everything’s white and clean, and it sparkles in the sunlight. It’s amazing. It’s just like Christmas in a movie.”
Cody forced a smile, thinking how his dank, dusty living room was about as unpicturesque as could be. “Not like Texas, huh?”
“Not even close. Here.” Nate shoved a giant gift basket into Cody’s hands. “Hang on. There’s more.”
He disappeared back outside, and Cody stood, staring at the gift. It was crammed full of oranges and grapefruit, half a dozen tiny bricks of cheese, and a summer sausage, with little bags of candy and nuts stuffed in between. He set the gift on the kitchen counter, his hands shaking. He heard Nate come back inside, but he didn’t turn to face him.
“I can’t take this.”
“Sure you can. It’s from the station. All the cops got one. My dad said I could have it.”
That made him feel better. It would certainly be nice to have something other than peanut butter to eat, and at least Nate hadn’t spent any money on it. “Oh. Okay.”
But then he turned to find Nate holding four more boxes, each one wrapped in bright-colored paper with smiling Santas and dancing reindeer. Nate shoved the stack into Cody’s hands and turned to shed his coat.
Cody’s heart sank. He felt like an idiot. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Nate might buy him a gift, and now here he was with a stack of them, and Cody had nothing at all to give in return. He put the boxes on the counter, next to the shrink-wrapped food that rightfully belonged to Nate’s dad.
“Nate.” He hated the way his voice shook. He hated the way his throat burned. He almost hated Nate for putting him in such a stupid position. “You shouldn’t have bought me anything.”
“Why not? It’s Christmas.”
“I know, but . . .” Cody eyed the presents again. Some childish part of him wanted to tear them open and see what was inside. If only he’d thought to buy Nate a gift. Of course, that would have meant losing electricity or telephone service. “I didn’t have enough money—”
“I know.” The way he said it reminded Cody of Logan—no pity or disgust in his voice—just matter-of-fact acceptance. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to buy me anything.”
“I feel terrible.”
“You shouldn’t.”
&nbs
p; “But Nate—”
Nate stepped closer, backing Cody up against the counter. “I’ll make you a deal.” He took the top box off the stack and laid it in Cody’s hands. It was small and easily identifiable based on its size and shape—a cassette tape. “Just open this one. I’ll take all the others back if you want. But this one, I really want you to have.” His voice sounded as shaky as Cody’s had, and Cody glanced up to find Nate watching him, his eyes unreadable, his cheeks slowly turning red. He moved a bit closer. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Cody nodded, his resolve weakening. “Okay.” It was only a cassette, after all. It wouldn’t have cost much. What kind of tape would Nate have picked for him anyway? He was pretty sure they had zero in common when it came to music. He wondered if he could sufficiently fake gratitude if it was Pet Shop Boys or some weird European band he’d never heard of.
He unwrapped it slowly, wanting to make this one stupid gift last all day.
It wasn’t an album. That much was clear immediately. It was a tape Nate had obviously made himself. The spine was decorated only with Cody’s name, and a little red heart. The song list was printed down the front part of the insert in Nate’s small, perfect penmanship. Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Mr. Mister, Pat Benatar, plus a bunch of bands Cody had never heard of—Crowded House, Yazoo, Modern English. But the song titles jumped out at him, somehow saying everything: “Something About You,” “Against All Odds,” “We Belong,” “Crazy for You,” “Time After Time.”
Cody’s heart seemed to patter out several extra beats in a single breath. His hands started to shake again. Jesus, did this mean what he thought it meant? He didn’t know most of the songs on the list. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought.
Or maybe it was.
“Say something,” Nate said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You made me a tape.”
“I did.”
