Model Behavior

by Carter, M. E.

  Matthew and I both laugh and begin tickling her, and he blows raspberries on her tummy.

  Crisis averted.

  And I have a new favorite holiday. Or at least I will. As soon as I crush Matthew at playing dreidel.

  Chapter 27

  Matthew

  When we were kids, my dad always grumbled about the holidays. I never understood how he couldn’t love every single minute of the season. The cooler weather, decorating the tree, playing games, and watching holiday movies were something I looked forward to each year. Of course, like most kids I looked forward to Christmas morning. Santa never let us down, always hitting at least one of the big items on our list. He never left anything on the cookie plate other than a few crumbs.

  Then I became a father. Sure, the first few years were easy because babies and toddlers are more interested in the boxes and wrapping paper than the gifts. Something changed about two years ago when Calypso realized the joy that is the Christmas List. Not only does she get very specific with her list, she also has a habit of choosing things that either require me to follow instructions for building or have so many damn plastic ties keeping it in the box I spend hours after she opens presents fighting to unpackage them.

  Of course, she’s passed out on the floor surrounded by paper and ribbon while holding her stuffed Kristoff. Carrie and I did manage to pull her away from the mess long enough to eat a little breakfast and call my parents. Then, she was right back at the mess which gave me time to sneak Carrie into my room and allow her a chance to properly thank me for her gifts with a kiss. Or three.

  She surprised the hell out of me when she climbed on top of me and started placing random kisses all over my face after opening her present. I loved having her that close and uninhibited. Her smile was huge and her lips warm as the distance she’s kept between us slowly vanished. Something changed with us this morning. I could feel the difference last night under the mistletoe but when I saw her this morning with messy hair and a line on her cheek from the pillow, I was more convinced.

  Seeing her in my T-shirt again hit me straight in the gut. And by gut I mean heart. I realized as I held Sven in my hands and she teased me from the doorway that nothing has ever felt more real or right. Having her here with my family, spending the holiday with us and making new memories is something I want again. Not just for holidays but for simple moments. It’s fast and we’ve only just started dating but I also know I’m too old to try and follow some weird society rule for how much time should pass before you know the person is right for you. For your child. Your family.

  “Mother fuc—” Biting my bottom lip, I cut off my outburst before tossing the offending toy onto the cushion next to me. Why is everything on children’s toys hard plastic? Seriously, I think I have more cuts and scrapes from these things than I would sticking my hands in a drawer of knives.

  Glancing around the room, I regret not taking Carrie up on her offer to help clean up before she left. There is so much paper. Note to self for next year—gift bags. With a groan, I begrudgingly push myself up from the couch and grab a trash bag from the kitchen. The process is quick and I manage to have the room back to normal before making my way to the kitchen to tackle the chaos I left it in after breakfast.

  With a final wipe of the counter, I toss the sponge in the sink and turn the light off. I should finish with those toys, but I also really want a shower and out of these snowflake pajamas. I’m a huge fan of lazy days in loungewear but thick sparkly pants are not the same thing.

  Before I can make my way out of the kitchen, my phone chimes with a text message.

  C:

  Opening the attachment I bark out a laugh of Luke on a shelf next to wooden Luke with his head cocked to the side.

  Me: Someone looks confused. Or contemplating squirrelicide.

  C: Squirrelicide?

  Me: Yeah, homicide by squirrel.

  C: OMG! You are ridiculous. And may be right. He has been staring at his cartoon self for about 4 solid minutes.

  C: Thanks again for including me in your holiday. I had a good time.

  Me: You’re welcome. I think you should come back over. We’ll eat popcorn and watch movies. Give you the full Roberts holiday experience.

  The three dots bounce around as she types and deletes her response. I know she wants to be here with us doing absolutely nothing, but something is still holding her back.

  C: What makes you think I’m not already living that awesome life? I’m on my second movie and moved on from popcorn to ice cream. You’re behind, pal.

  Me: Ah, I see how it is. I’ve already been replaced by Ben AND Jerry. You’ve broken my heart, babe.

  C: Oh are we onto pet names, Schnookums?

  Me: You bet your sweet ass. I’m going to hop in the shower. I’ll call you later.

  With a huge smile on my face and some actual pep in my step, I make my way down the hall and to the bathroom. Now I need a good pet name for Carrie. It has to be epic and entirely ridiculous.

  •••

  “Daddy, you are the most beautiful princess.”

  “Honey, I’m a grown man. I would be a queen.”

  Sighing, my pint-sized beautician snaps a barrette into place on top of my head. It’s her third attempt to fasten the plastic clip, and I have no doubt there are just as many bruises on my scalp. She scowls at my proclamation before stepping back to assess her handiwork.

  “Maybe you should just stay a boy.”

  I don’t bother agreeing as she abandons me and starts talking to her assistant, Kristoff. Slowly, I untangle the accessory from my hair and drop it into the box to my right. Kicking my feet up on the table, I grab the remote control and flip through the channels, stopping on the news when the doorbell rings.

  “Who is that? Maybe Santa forgot to leave one of my presents?”

  Chuckling I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

  Rising from the couch, I make my way to the front door and hope it isn’t carolers. I’m all about the holiday spirit but standing on my porch while strangers belt out holiday tunes is awkward. I never know what to do and I feel more like a dance club bouncer than a single dad playing dress up with his daughter.

  Opening the door, I suddenly wish it was three groups of carolers than the surprise greeting me.

  “Surprise!”

  “Delilah. What are you doing here?”

  “Is that anyway to greet someone on Christmas?”

  Dumbfounded, I stand there for a few beats, my eyes blinking as I take in the woman who I spent one night with and received a lifetime of blessings. Her blonde hair is loose and carefree like her spirit. A long floral dress pools around her feet and I wonder briefly if she’s even wearing shoes. That would be just like her to walk the streets of Texas barefoot so she could be one with the earth.

  Shaking off my assessment of her, I step to the side and welcome her into the house. She moves through the doorway and whispers what sounds like a prayer under her breath as she sets a large bag onto the floor.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Delilah.”

  “I wanted to see Calypso. It is Christmas after all.”

  “We talked about this the last time you dropped in unannounced.”

  “Please don’t be angry with me. I know I should have called but there wasn’t time. My heart needed to be here with her today and I just couldn’t stay away. Plus I only have two days off from my Dance Across Texas tour and didn’t have any time to spare.”

  I don’t bother asking about the tour. With her, there’s no telling what kind of activity it really is. I’m sure it’s dancing—that is her profession. But I never know if she’s dancing backup for someone, dancing in a festival, or is riding in an old VW van circa Woodstock with people who still long for the days of making love not war.

  No, I don’t ask because I’m irritated. This is just like her, using her heart and soul as a basis for dropping in without discussing it with me first. Like I can tell he
r not to follow the parental need to be with Calypso. There’s no way that’s possible because it’s how I feel everyday with our daughter.

  Sighing, I force myself to put up a good front because there’s no use arguing. It’s only two days. “I’m not angry. Just surprised. Be prepared, I think her shrieking has increased ten decibels in the last month.”

  As we enter the living room, I clear my throat to get Sprite’s attention. She doesn’t react, completely enthralled with making her stuffed squirrel the next princess. Barrettes and all.

  “Sprite, you have a visitor.”

  Turning her head our direction, her mouth falls wide open with shock all over her face.

  “Mommy! You came!”

  Jumping up, she runs to Delilah, those shrieks and giggles louder and happier than I’ve heard in a long time. Wrapped in each other’s arms they sway back and forth, talking a mile a minute. Suddenly feeling like a third wheel, I move to the kitchen and grab a beer from the refrigerator. I manage two pulls from the bottle before I’m interrupted.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Look at my new wings.”

  I turn my head and smile at my little fairy. Strapped to her back is a pair of purple sparkly wings that she’s trying to look at herself but only managing to spin in a circle. It’s a little like Olaf when he chases his tail.

  “Those are beautiful. You look like a real-life fairy.”

  “I know!” And she’s so humble. “Will you take a picture for Carrie?”

  Nodding, I grab my phone and snap a quick picture. Knowing that Sprite is thinking of Carrie makes me happy and a little sad at the same time. She shouldn’t be thinking of another woman when her mom, the one she doesn’t see but a couple times a year at most, is here with her. Before I can send the text, Delilah joins us. Squatting down to Sprite’s height, she adjusts the straps before standing.

  “I should be going. Would it be okay if I came by again tomorrow? Maybe take Calypso for a few hours?”

  “You should sleep over! We could have a slumber party!”

  With two pairs of identical eyes focused on me I don’t even hesitate before I answer. It’s not a battle I’m going to win anyway, and it’s not like she doesn’t normally stay here when she pops in. “I’ll just change the sheets in the guest room.” Or as I prefer to think of it—Carrie’s room.

  “Actually, I prefer sleeping on the floor.”

  “Close to the earth?” I ask.

  “Nah, my back has been bothering me and it’s the only way I’ve managed a decent night’s sleep.”

  Smiling, I go to the closet and grab some blankets and pillows and place them in Calypso’s room while the two fairies giggle in the other room.

  Chapter 28

  Carrie

  I have found myself humming Christmas carols all morning long. Strange, for a woman who never once grew up so much as humming a holiday tune. Not strange for the girl who just spent her first Christmas with the boy she likes.

  Yes, I know that sounds very middle school, but that’s kind of how I feel. Giddy, anxious, butterflies in my stomach, resisting the urge to call him every minute of every day so I can giggle over the phone.

  At least I didn’t have to hold myself back from driving back over last night, knowing I had no way to get there. Who knew there was a silver lining to losing the rental car keys?

  I figured they would show up by now, but no. I’m officially going to be late for work if they don’t end up in my hand in approximately four seconds. Plus, I’m sure the rental car company will charge me an arm and a leg for a replacement.

  “Luke? Did you steal my keys, sweet boy?”

  My red-haired companion ignores me, too busy buzzing and flapping his tail at Sven, who is wobbling around his cage, completely oblivious to the challenge being thrown down outside his cage. This whole dance is as bad as watching the rodent version of West Side Story. The original version. Not the remake. Although, arguably dance-fighting is how I do it too, so I have no room to judge.

  Flinging some clean rags that I haven’t yet taken off the table, I cuss under my breath and realize I don’t have a choice but to call in to work and let them know I’m going to be late. Dialing the number, I prop the phone on my shoulder and get on my hands and knees to crawl on the floor. Maybe this vantage point will work better.

  “Thank you for calling Critter Keepers and Wildlife Rescue, where we rescue your critters. This is Jamie. How can I help you?”

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  “You could have interrupted me before I spilled out that whole obnoxious spiel.”

  Well. Someone’s already in a cranky mood.

  “Already getting calls about the beloved Christmas morning pets, huh?”

  “Three of them. Why don’t people invest in stuffed animals instead of assuming a puppy won’t pee on their carpet?” she whines. “I feel like it’s a given they’re going to destroy things. Does no one buy pet odor remover before bringing a new pet home?”

  Leaning down, I look under the couch. “Ah ha!” I shout.

  “Uh… did I just remind you to put pet odor remover on your list or something?”

  Pushing myself off the floor, I take a quick deep breath. I really need to start exercising. “No. Sorry. I found my car keys. That’s why I’m calling. Can you tell the boss man I’m going to be late?”

  “On one condition.” I roll my eyes because there is no telling what it will be. “Bring me coffee. Preferably the Irish kind.”

  I snort a laugh and quickly guide Luke back in his cage so I can gather my stuff. “I know you hate getting stuck on front desk duty, but I think drinking on the job might be frowned upon. However, candy cane mint hot chocolate is a good alternative.”

  “Perfect. I can pretend it’s Goldshläger.” The gagging sound I make is loud enough for her to hear. “Hey now! I love those gold flakes.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how you never became a sorority girl.”

  “They wouldn’t take me. I’m too much of a wild woman.”

  Ohmygod, she’s ridiculous. “Okay, Annie Oakley—”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll be there soon. Don’t cuss out any new pet owners before I get there.”

  “No guarantees,” she says, and as we hang up I have no doubt she’s going to bite her tongue all day long.

  It’s not that working the day after Christmas is hard. There’s almost no foot traffic, most people exhausted from their celebrations or back to work after a few days off. There are just a lot of calls from people wanting advice on how to handle their new pet and where to get supplies. I get it. It’s like learning how to take care of a brand-new baby. If that baby does its bathroom business wherever it sees fit and chews on anything in its path. In a word, it’s overwhelming. But Jamie isn’t the most patient person in the world when it comes to mammals of the human variety, and it’s ten times worse when she’s directing people to pet stores for things like toys, food, and dog beds. Lucky me, I get to hear her bitch about it all day. At least I get to go in late today.

  Tossing my bag on the passenger seat, I crank the engine of my car. I still have two stops to make before getting to the shelter so fingers crossed the day after shopping traffic is light.

  I haven’t even made it to the stop sign when my phone rings. Glancing at the Bluetooth screen, I’m surprised to see Celeste calling.

  Pressing the button to connect, I don’t bother with a real greeting. We’re cool like that. “What in the world are you doing calling me on December twenty-sixth? Aren’t you with your family?”

  “That’s exactly why I’m hiding in my room making business phone calls.” I have no doubt she used air quotes in that sentence.

  “Is your mother already pressuring you to give up on your dream and move home?”

  It’s a long running conversation in Celeste’s family—how working in the theater doesn’t pay the bills. It’s a constant source of irritation for her, but oddly she sounds more chipper than she should for someone avoiding her mother.


  “Oh honey, that started the second I dropped my suitcase in the front hall. I just ignore her and ask about her latest beading project. That usually distracts her enough to move on.”

  I’m not at all surprised. Celeste and her mother have the weirdest relationship. They’re best friends and worst enemies all at the same time. It’s a dynamic I don’t understand, so I gave up trying a long time ago. If it works for them, what’s it to me?

  “Anyway,” she continues, “Anna said yes!”

  It takes me a second to remember what she’s talking about. Finally it hits me.

  “Oh, Anna! Your roommate. Sorry that took me a second. I’m running late so my brain is racing,” I explain since it’s true. My thoughts have been spinning all morning. Of course, most of them are because of Matthew, but I’m not ready to share that little detail yet. We’ll just let her think I’m frazzled because of the hot mess I am on the regular. “So she’s trading reviews for ad space?”

  “Yep. But she doesn’t want to be known by her musician name on the blog.”

  “Understandable.” Not that either of us use our real name either. Stalkers come in all industries. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

  “She’s working on a couple of things already. It appears our website was impressive enough to the powers that be at a big music studio, that they went ahead and added her to their advance review list.” Celeste giggles with delight and I don’t blame her. It’s hard to get publishers to give advance copies of books. I can’t imagine how much harder it would be for Anna since we don’t have a page on our site for music yet. She either knows someone important or our site really is that good.

  I’m going with the latter, because it makes me feel like the hard work is worth it.

  “That’s really awesome. Plus, it gives us a little more breathing room on our own reviews.” Which just means I have more time to hang out with my new boyfriend, or whatever I should call him.

  Shit. What should I call him? Are we exclusive? Are we just dating? Is this a friends with very limited benefits situation? I guess we need to have some sort of conversation, which I actually dread. It makes me nervous to address things like this. All my insecurities like to come out to play. Stupid overactive brain.