by R. R. Banks
Graham told me about a few of the things that Charlie had mentioned to him over the phone, but insisted that they were just things that mattered to him in those moments.
"He's five," Graham insisted. "He likes something one minute and then something else the next. The things I chose for him are part of who he is and will matter to him as he gets bigger."
I could see that Graham had convinced himself that he knew exactly what was right for his son and that he was excited about all of the gifts that he had chosen for him, but I wasn't so sure. Something that I hadn't mentioned to Graham, something that I have never told anyone, was that I had had a brother when I was much younger. I could still remember him as a five year old and the passion that he had for his favorite shows, his favorite movies, and the characters in his books and games that seem so completely real to him at the time. My heart ached thinking about him and I pushed the memories into the back of my mind where I kept them, so I didn't have to feel the pain that came when his face appeared in my mind and in my memory. I listened to Graham continue to talk, knowing that as soon as I had the opportunity, I had some Christmas shopping to do.
Chapter Thirteen
Graham
"I don't know what the fuck a mummer parade is and I don't really care. I just want my room. The room that I made a reservation for."
"A mummer parade is an Old Folk Festival that celebrates the new year," the man behind the desk told me.
"I'm sorry, did I say that I suddenly decided that I was interested in what a mummer parade was? No, I really don't think that I did."
"Graham, calm down," Holly said. "It's going to be fine."
"I'm not going to calm down," I said. "I called and made a reservation. A reservation. That means that I reserved a room. I didn't suggest that I might like one, I didn't give them a heads up that I was on my way and see if maybe they could put something aside in the event that no one else was there. I made a reservation and now I'm standing here and he's telling me that I don't get the room that I reserved because apparently there are a bunch of mummies in it."
"Mummers," the man corrected.
"Again. I seriously don't give a fuck. It can be Frankenstein's monster and his band of merry zombies for all I care. I want them out of my room."
"I'm sorry, sir. There must have been a mix-up with the reservations. I see here that you called, but the computer says that you reserved a room for next week."
"Why would I reserve a room for next week, when I'm here right now. I made the reservation three hours ago and was told that there would be a suite waiting for me when I arrived. Why wouldn’t somebody tell me that my room was going to be full of mummies?"
"Mummers."
I swing my eyes over to the man behind the desk, who took a step back and suddenly became extremely invested in a brochure.
"There has to be something else," Holly said. "We made it this far. We'll find another hotel room for the night."
The man behind the desk, whose name I hadn't noticed and would only care about when it came time to contact the owners of the hotel, made a hissing sound between his teeth, a regretful expression coming to his face. I looked at him, trying to stay calm for Holly's sake.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, "Something you'd like to say?"
"It's just with the holidays and people coming in from all over to see the m----- the activities that will be happening around town over the course of the next couple of weeks, I doubt that you're going to be able to find any vacancies on this short of notice. That's why I'm surprised that anyone would have told you that there was a room available."
"Are you suggesting that I'm lying?"
"No, sir."
"Good."
"So, what are we supposed to do?" Holly asked.
Her wide green eyes looked tired and I knew that she couldn't bear the thought of climbing back onto the snowmobile and clinging to the bags as we made our way through to another town. Part of me vowed to never leave the city again. I couldn't understand being in a series of towns where there was not a single car to be rented, or a car lot that was open. A train, bus, plane, or any other means of getting around than continuing to glide along the melting snow in our stolen Snowmobile.
There was a country song in there somewhere. I might need to send that back to the hollow to Boom Boom. Though I had no personal evidence, I just had the feeling that that man had a banjo somewhere.
"There might be one option," the man behind the desk said, still holding the brochure in front of him as if it would somehow shield him.
"What's that?"
"Oh, you can't possibly be serious."
"This is all that I can offer you," the man no longer behind the desk said.
I looked at Holly and then back at the barn that the man had led us too.
"It's not like it's an actual barn," he said. "It's our rustic event venue."
"Is it made out of wood?" I asked.
"Well, yes."
"Does it have two big doors, big enough for, say, horses to come out of?"
"Yes."
"And when I open those doors, will I find hay?"
The man hesitated a moment this time, hanging his head slightly.
"Yes."
"Then it's a barn," I said.
"It's cold out here," Holly said. "And I'm tired. And I'm hungry. And I'm not getting back on that snowmobile tonight. If this is what's available, then let's just make the most of it."
"You do realize that this is the second time that there has been no room at a hotel that we have tried to stop in."
"Well there wasn't no room at the Hollow Day Inn," Holly point it out. "There was one room. I just got it first."
"Yes, and at this one, you got a barn."
"How very seasonally appropriate."
"Boom Boom would be thrilled."
"So, is this going to be acceptable for you?" the man asked.
I looked at Holly and then back at him and nodded.
"I wouldn't go quite so far as to say that it's acceptable," I said. "But we'll stay for the night."
The man gave a sharp nod, handed me the awkward ring of keys for the barn, and walked away.
"Hallelujah," I heard him mutter under his breath as he walked away.
I turned to look at Holly.
"Do you think that Santa is missing him up at the North Pole?" I asked. "It's kind of getting to Christmas crunch time here, and he really should be up there making toys. Those tiny little hands are probably pretty important for the fine details."
Holly gave me a mildly scolding look and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Don't you give him another thought," she said. "Like I said, why don't we just make the most of it?"
Chapter Fourteen
Graham
"Are you sure that you want me to go with you?" Holly asked.
"Of course, I am," I said. "Don't you want to meet Charlie?"
"Yes," she said. "Of course, I do. I just didn't know if you would want me there when you first see him. I know it's been awhile and I didn't want to intrude."
"You aren't intruding," I said.
I took both of her hands and drew her close to me, wrapping my arms around her waist so that her hands were behind her back. I kissed her and rested my forehead against hers.
"Are you OK?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing's wrong. Come on, they're waiting for us."
At the mention of the word “they” I could see Holly's face change. I knew that she wasn't looking forward to meeting Brandy. I couldn't blame her. The situation was strange enough as it was. Adding my ex-wife into it was something that I didn't think either of us knew how to navigate properly. I told myself that I didn't care. I wanted Holly there with me, and it wasn't Brandy's choice.
I took her hand and walked out of the hotel, the first that we had actually been able to get a room in on our first try. A car was waiting outside just as I had requested, and Holly and I stepp
ed into the back seat. I watched through the window as we went through the small town towards Brandy's address. This was the place that my son was calling home, had been for several months. It didn't look like home. It didn't look like a place where I wanted him to be growing up. I wanted him to grow up in the home that I had created for him, the home that I had envisioned for him from before he was born.
We pulled up in front of the house and before I could even open the door, the front door of the house swung open and I saw Charlie. My heart leapt in my chest and I jumped out of the car. I ran up the sidewalk and dropped to my knees in the middle, flinging my arms open so that I could take my little boy into the hug that had been waiting for him for so long. He clung to me, his tiny hands grasping as much of my coat as they could and his little face burying into my neck. His skin was cold, telling me that he had been peeking out of the door waiting for me for some time.
I hugged him tightly and then pulled back to kiss him, then pulled him back into another hug.
"I missed you so much," I said to him.
"I'm so glad that you're here, Daddy. I asked Santa to bring you to me."
I pulled back from the hug and looked at him strangely.
"But you knew that I was coming," I said. "I told you that I was coming."
"I know," he said. "But mommy said that I shouldn't get my hopes up. She said that you might not come."
I felt the happiness inside me drain away, replaced by anger. I stood up and felt Holly come up behind me. In my excitement to see Charlie I had almost forgotten that she was even there. I introduced them, expecting Charlie to be shy and nervous around her as he had always been with strangers. Instead, he seemed to take to her immediately. Holding one of my hands, he reached out with his other and took hers.
"Would you like to see my Christmas tree, Holly?" he asked.
Holly looked at me, her mouth open slightly, as if stunned. Then she looked back down at Charlie and smiled, nodding.
"I would love to," she said.
Charlie led us into the house and I looked down at him.
"Where's your mommy?" I asked.
"I think she's in the kitchen," he said. "Come on, Holly. The tree is in here."
I let them go into the living room and I made my way down the central hallway into the open kitchen. Brandy looked over her shoulder at me from where she was brewing a cup of coffee. Before I left for this trip I had expected that the moment I saw her I would feel the same love that I had when we were younger. I expected to be excited to see her and to remember that thrill, that sense of happiness that I had once felt. I felt none of it. In that instant I was reminded of everything that happened in our marriage. I remember the arguments and the days of silence that had started in the earliest weeks after our wedding. I remember the screaming, how she used to throw things when she was angry, and then storm out of the house. I never knew how long she would be gone during those times. I hoped when she was pregnant with Charlie that those times would stop after he was born. But once he was here they only seemed to get worse. Our personalities clashed harder and harder the longer we tried to stay together. I had no patience for her drama and would never chase after her. I always just assumed that she would come back, and we would deal with it when she decided to act like a rational adult. After a while that changed, and I stopped caring whether she came back at all.
I had forgotten all of that. I had forced it all into the back of my mind and compartmentalized it, convincing myself that it hadn't been as bad as it was. It all set heavily in my chest now and I stared at her, my hands shaking with anger.
"How dare you tell my son that I wasn't coming?" I asked.
"Merry Christmas to you too," she said. "Welcome to my home."
"Cut the bullshit, Brandy. Charlie just told me that you said I wasn't coming."
"I didn't tell him that you weren't coming. I said that he shouldn't get his hopes up. How was I supposed to know whether you are actually going to show up?"
"What's that supposed to mean? I've always been the one who was there for him. I've always done everything that I said I would."
"Except stay married to me," she said.
Though I had been the one that was planning on coming here to try to reconcile with her, I was startled by the comment. Even during the divorce, she had expressed little regret that our relationship was ending. She wasn't pleased that she was losing access to my bank accounts. She hated that the prenuptial agreement that we had made before our marriage was upheld by the court. But never once did she say that she was sorry that the bond between us had been broken and that our marriage was coming to an end. The sentiment was hollow now and it only underscored how wrong I had been.
"That was your fault," I said to her. "You know that it was."
It felt strangely liberating to say that to her. For so long I had been so angry. I had hated her. It was only when I had started to tell myself that I had been the one that was wrong that I was able to push that away and pretend that none of it happened. That was when, somewhere in my mind, the warped image of what our marriage had never been, and what I thought that it might be in the future, had grown until I convinced myself that it was real. That was when she was far enough away that I didn't have to see her. I didn't have to look into her face and see what had become of the woman I thought I knew. I didn't have to see the look of disdain. I realized as I looked at it now that it was never really her that I hated. I hated what she did. I hated what she did to my son. I hated the years that she had taken from me. But I simply didn't care enough about her to hate her.
"You can come to see Charlie on Christmas. We have plans this afternoon and he still has school, so you'll have to leave."
"You knew that I was coming. Why did you make plans?"
"Because I wanted to."
Before I could let my emotions take over I walked out of the kitchen into the living room. Holly and Charlie were sitting on the floor under the tree looking at the few scattered gifts that were sitting there. He was pointing out his name and telling her what he hoped that Santa would bring for him. I listened for a few seconds and realized that of all of the things that he mentioned, only two of them were things that I had purchased for him. All of the others were things that Holly had suggested, and that I turned down. I called over to him and he ran into my arms.
"I have to go now, buddy. Your mom says you have plans this afternoon. But I'm going to see you really soon, OK?"
"I wish you didn't have to go." he said.
I kissed his forehead.
"I know. I do too. But I will see you for Christmas. It's not long away."
Brandy appeared at the door and glared in at Holly, but I didn't bother to introduce them. I took Holly's hand and we walked out of the house. We got into the car and before I could say anything to her, Holly turned to look at me.
"He's wonderful," she said.
"I think so," I said.
"Do you think that I could still catch the cruise at a different Port City?"
The question felt like she had punched me. I spent a moment trying to formulate what I would say, trying to understand why she would ask that.
"I don't know. I could find out."
She nodded, turning away from me.
"If you could, that would be great. I know I missed the beginning of it, but I'd like to at least get to enjoy the last few days."
"You could stay", I said. "You could stay and celebrate Christmas with us."
She shook her head.
"I told you," she said. "I don't want to celebrate Christmas. I just want to pretend that it isn't even here. You should celebrate with your son."
"I'll call the cruise line when we get back to the hotel."
She still didn't look at me, but I saw her nod.
"Thank you."
Holly
I went straight to the bathroom as soon as we got back to the hotel and splashed cold water on my face. The last thing I needed was for him to see the tears that were forming in my
eyes and the flushing on my cheeks. Asking Graham to find out if I could get on the cruise was the most difficult question I have ever asked. I was telling the truth when I said that Charlie was wonderful. He was even more amazing than Graham had said, and that was exactly why I needed to leave.
Sitting in Brandy's living room with Charlie had given me a glimpse of a life that I had never imagined for myself. I'd never let myself pretend that I was going to be the type of woman that someone would marry and who would have a child. Seeing Charlie, watching his eyes light up as he looked at the Christmas tree and talked about Santa, showed me what that life could look like. And I liked it. I liked it too much. That was not my life to have. This was a life that had been built before I came along. It didn't belong to me, and it never could. Graham had been right when he said the Charlie deserved a family. He deserved his family. I knew what it was to be bounced between parents and to never feel secure or acknowledged as more important or loved. I knew what it was to wonder what it really meant to have a home, and whether I had two, or none at all. I looked at Charlie and I saw myself. I saw the pain that I had gone through and I wondered if that was how I had always been, or if that was what was created in me by the circumstances.
I never wanted Charlie to have to find that out. I never wanted him to lose that sparkle. I never wanted him to question again whether his father left him or whether he would see him. As much as I wish that I could sit in that room and claim that life, that was never meant to be mine. This had all been just a detour, a mistake that had built on itself over and over until I stood here.
Even as I thought that, I hated myself for the thought. Meeting Graham wasn't a mistake. Nothing that has happened between us was a mistake. But it was all a matter of circumstances. It wasn't something that was supposed to happen, and it wasn't something that could continue to happen. I needed to get back on to my intended path now. I needed to push the reset button and bring myself back to what was always meant to happen. I would get on the cruise at whatever port city I could find. I would enjoy the last few days of the trip that I had intended to go on. And then I would go home. I would return to the life that I had meant to return to, and I would find out what was next.
