by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
Angela sat hunched over her desk on Monday morning, rubbing her relentlessly throbbing temples. The emotional outpour the day before had left her too wound up to sleep, even though it had been well past her typical bedtime when she had gotten home, and Saturday night had already left her sleep-deprived. The coffee at nine at night hadn’t helped matters, either. Two straight nights of little slumber rendered more morning coffee rather useless at this point.
“You okay?” Marshall asked when he got in.
“Yeah,” Angela breathed. “Just a headache.”
Marshall opened his desk drawer and handed Angela a bottle of ibuprofen. “Here.”
Angela smiled and accepted the offering. “Thanks.”
“Have a good weekend?”
“Yeah,” Angela said. All things considered, her answer was quite honest. She much preferred the misery, the questions, the crying, to the alternative of not having Vince at all, of letting more time go by without him knowing how much she cared.
“A little too good?” Marshall said with a grin.
“Huh. Yeah, maybe,” Angela replied. “You?”
“Pretty quiet.”
“Hey, guys,” Harry said, the look on his face all too familiar as he approached them.
“A case? Really?” Angela moaned.
“Sorry, kid,” Harry said. “Crime doesn’t take a break for hangovers.”
Angela’s heart sank as Harry walked away to the conference room. Knowing she couldn’t get away with a phone call to Vince without answering questions from snoopy coworkers, she sent him a text message.
Leaving for a case, sorry. I’ll let you know more when I know more.
With dampened spirits and a still raging headache, she dry-swallowed two of Marshall’s pills, then made her way to the briefing.
—
Vince would have been lying if he said that Angela going away on a case right now wasn’t that big of a deal. He had been looking forward to spending a chemo-free week with both her and Charlie before his next round started. All he could hope for now was for her speedy return. Figuring Angela couldn’t talk right now, he replied to her message to reassure her that everything was fine.
I guess we’re going to Oakland, CA. Never been more motivated to crack a case, Angela replied a while later. Vince wondered what to do with the rest of his day. The food supply in the apartment was getting low and what was left sounded unappealing, so he wrote a quick grocery list to distract himself from his disappointment.
He, of course, picked the squeakiest cart in the store, but that became the least of his worries. In the produce aisle, somewhere between the bell peppers and oranges, he felt like someone was watching him. He looked unsubtly around him and saw a young woman, maybe twenty-five, staring at him rather unabashedly. He supposed that even with the hat, it was easy to tell he was bald, and that he was pale and thin enough to look sickly. He turned away, ashamed that he was even the least bit embarrassed by what someone else—a stranger, no less—thought of him. He didn’t spend much longer at the store, sticking to his list. When he got home, he still couldn’t forget the rest of the pitiful and curious stares from the other strangers at the store, including the cashier who’d actually gone so far as to ask him what kind of cancer he had. He wasn’t sure why he was bothered by pity from people he didn’t even know.
While he was down in the dumps, he decided to take care of one more matter of business. He looked up Charlie’s old grief counselor online and made an appointment for him, unable to get him in until about a month later. But it was better than nothing.
After an otherwise boring day filled with more mindless cleaning and no word from Angela, Vince was feeling rather sorry for himself. However, once Charlie hopped into the car at school and enthusiastically began to rattle off the details of his day, Vince’s heart warmed considerably.
“I like when you pick me up,” Charlie said, stopping mid-report.
“Well, the pleasure’s all mine, kiddo.”
“Can Angela come over again tonight?”
“Not tonight, buddy. She had to go away on a case.”
Charlie pouted. “Where?”
“California. But what happened to having a good time with your old man?” he asked, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “What do you say we go see a movie?”
Charlie’s mouth was agape in disbelief. “On a school night?”
“Well, right now, not at night.”
“What about going to Auntie Jen’s?”
“I was thinking that on the weeks I don’t have to go to the hospital, I could pick you up and we could go straight home. It would give Auntie Jen a bit more time to work, and you and I could spend more time with just the two of us. How does that sound?”
Charlie’s smile oozed utter excitement. “What about dinner, though?”
“How about nachos and popcorn?”
—
Angela didn’t have a free minute to herself until nine o’clock local time, which meant eleven at home. She stepped outside of her seedy hotel room and walked down the shadowy hall, then down the steps to the exit. She had considered not bothering Vince, but she was pretty sure her call would be welcome even if it woke him.
“Hey,” he answered after the first ring.
“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier. I should’ve texted or something.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. What’s the case?”
“Prostitutes.”
“Some sort of vigilante cleaning up the streets?” Vince asked.
“We think so.”
“Are you back at the hotel? It’s only nine there, no?”
“Ugh. Yes. Fitz sent me here to get some sleep. He said I looked like I’d been hit by a bus.”
“How kind of him,” Vince said dryly. “Did you not sleep well last night?”
Angela remembered the promise they’d both made to be honest with one another. “No, of course not. I was all keyed up. And the plane ride was full of turbulence and I had stuff to read up on, so I didn’t sleep then, either.”
“When’s the last time you did sleep?”
“Off and on last night. You know what I really want right now, besides to be on the way back home?”
“What’s that?”
Angela leaned against a rusty chain link fence that made their hotel seem even creepier. “A cigarette.”
Vince chuckled. “Former smoker?”
“Yep. Quit ten years ago, long before we met.”
“Go get yourself a pack of cigarettes. I won’t tattle.”
“Eh. I don’t wanna risk getting hooked again.”
“Are you outside?” Vince asked.
“Of course. Paper thin walls. Like you said, just our luck. I have to go outside in this disgusting city after dark just to have a conversation.”
“I take it someone came back to the hotel with you?”
“Marshall did, just for a catnap. He’s in the room right next door. Anyway, what did you do today?” she asked, ready to change the subject.
“Hit up the grocery store, got some interesting stares, set up an appointment for Charlie to see his old grief counselor, picked him up from school, then took him to see a movie and let him eat junk food for dinner.”
Angela’s mouth drooped sadly, her brow furrowing. “Sounds like a mixed up day. Don’t people learn not to stare at other people when they’re, I don’t know, five?”
“You’d think.”
“Well, I’m sorry you have to put up with that.”
“It’s the least of my worries, really. I couldn’t get Charlie an appointment for a month.”
“Oh, no. Don’t they have same-day appointments for emergencies?”
“I tried to spin this as an emergency, trust me. I think he’ll be okay for another month, though. I think most kids in his situation don’t get help until after the fact, anyway. Hopefully he’s ahead.”
“He is a tough little kid,” Angela agre
ed.
“Having you over will keep his spirits up, I’m sure. And maybe mine, too,” Vince said with a smile Angela could hear.
“There’s no place I’d rather be right now than back with you,” she assured him. “I had half a mind to play hooky on this case. But we’ll be back in no time, I’m sure.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Absolutely,” Angela said.
“This isn’t your first case back without me. How has the team been so far? We talk about the cases, but we haven’t really talked about how the team’s been doing.”
Angela sighed. “I think we’re still trying to find a new rhythm, but I don’t know how much of that stems from us just being upset versus us being short-staffed. Not to say that Fitz isn’t doing a bang-up job, though. He really is.”
“Good. Maybe I should have the team over for dinner or something, everyone together, before things get too ugly.”
“That’s a good idea. People keep wondering out loud how you’ve been. They rarely come to see you in more than pairs. Did anyone come see you at all last week?”
“The guys did one night. I was hardly coherent, though. It was a chemo day.”
“Well, then, maybe you should plan something for this weekend while you’re still off.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Vince stifled a yawn.
“You’re tired. Did you sleep last night?”
“I did, but it’s late.”
“Oh—shoot, I forgot. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. I thought about not even calling.”
“No, I’m glad you did. Charlie just wore me out today, that’s all.”
“Did you have a good time, at least?”
“We had a great time.”
Angela smiled. “Good. I’ll let you go now. Get some sleep.”
“You, too. No more coffee.”
“Goodnight.” Angela wished she could append her goodnight with something more meaningful, but she feared too much rushing would cheapen the relationship. As she crawled into bed without even changing into pajamas, though, she found delight in thinking about who might be the first to crack and when.
—
Many things had gone undone around the apartment when Vince had been busy at work. Those same things had continued to be neglected once his treatment had started. Now that free time and energy coincided, he unfolded his mental to-do list and went to his storage locker in the basement of the apartment building. He knew he had a few boxes of Charlie’s summer clothes that he’d been meaning to go through for months. He also knew he had a box of vinyls stashed away somewhere.
He was glad he’d worn one of his old shirts when he found how dusty some of his belongings were. He found Charlie’s summer clothes on the first try. Next, he came across a clean bin marked Christmas in Jenna’s handwriting. Vince put them both in the stack of things to go upstairs. Deciding he had enough with which to occupy himself, he searched for his box of records, this time sneezing from the dust he unsettled. When he couldn’t easily pick up all three containers at once, he remembered he had no one to impress, so he lugged them upstairs one by one.
Vince’s main musical interests lay decades ago with Sammy Davis, Jr. and friends, who filled the apartment with songs of simpler times while Vince sorted through Charlie’s clothes. It took him longer than he had anticipated, as some of the items reminded him of specific moments from last summer and he found himself pausing. He almost lost it when he came to the pair of jeans Charlie had worn last spring when he’d been learning how to ride his bike without training wheels. It was one of Charlie’s few firsts for which Vince had actually been around, making it difficult for him to put the pants down. He told himself it was worth having Charlie try them on, just in case they still fit. He needed a pair of jeans he could get dirty anyway.
His next project was to find out what exactly was in the Christmas bin and why Jenna had labeled it. Suddenly, before even opening it, he remembered. Shortly after the new year, Jenna had been to the apartment to drop off Charlie and had complained that Vince still had Christmas decorations everywhere. Overwhelmed by extra work at the time, not to mention single fatherhood and test results that still hadn’t come back, Vince had left the decorations up. Besides, Christmas was Vince’s favorite holiday, hands down.
But after a few days of Vince not fixing the problem, Jenna had taken it upon herself to clean things up for him one day while he was at work. Inside the box were a few strands of colored lights, a nativity set that had been in his family since he was a child, some fragile sentimental ornaments, a few framed pictures of Charlie sitting on various mall Santas’ laps, and a myriad of holiday themed crafts Charlie had made at school and at home over the years.
Vince wasn’t sure if he’d be around for any sort of Christmas in July celebration. It fell within the window of five to seven months from now, but even if he was still alive, he probably wouldn’t be in any condition stroll through the apartment singing Christmas tunes at the top of his lungs.
Ignoring convention completely, and reminding himself that he would need to get used to doing that, Vince switched out Dean Martin’s “Hold Me” single for Bing’s Merry Christmas and cranked up the volume. If any neighbors had a problem with it, he could tell them he was dying of cancer and see if they still complained.
He made his best effort not to think about the fact that he wouldn’t celebrate another real Christmas; instead he sang along with no shame whatsoever, with no one around to make fun of his inability to carry a tune. That was, until he heard a knock at the door. Angela stood in front of the peephole.
“Hey,” she said cheerily when he opened up, a warmhearted smile lighting up his face.
“Hey,” he echoed softly. “That was…fast,” he said without complaint, drawing her near for a hug and a long-awaited kiss and pushing the door shut behind her.
“It was. Fitz made us all go home for the day. Hope you like surprises.”
Vince turned the volume down. “This kind? Of course.”
“Good. The last time I came home from a case and surprised a boyfriend, it didn’t turn out quite as well,” she said dully.
Vince wondered if Angela meant what he thought she did, but now wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m thrilled you’re home, if that counts for anything. How’d you wrap up the case so fast?”
“I had pretty much nothing to do with it. I worked, went back to the hotel and called you, slept for a few hours, went into the police department, and they’d just caught him. Classic case of inserting himself into the investigation,” Angela said offhandedly, stepping out of her shoes and hanging up her coat. She walked over to the counter and set down a plastic bag, carrying a cloud of cold air around with her and giving Vince the chills. “What’s…with the Christmas music, exactly?” she asked with a confused smile.
“I was going through some stuff I had stored downstairs. Came across our Christmas decorations.”
“And Bing Crosby vinyls?”
“Among others,” Vince said. “What’s in the bag? Do I smell Chinese?”
“You do, but it’s not garbage. It’s healthy Chinese. Beef with steamed veggies, brown rice…One egg roll apiece,” she said, opening up a foam container while Vince pulled down some plates.
“Healthy Chinese? Where’s the fun in that?”
“I had greasy takeout for dinner last night and for breakfast this morning,” Angela said. Vince rightly suspected she was trying to make sure he ate well and just didn’t want to belittle him by admitting it. He didn’t mind someone wanting to take care of him. It had been quite a long time since he’d had that.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Vince said when they finally sat down to eat.
“Mmm, me too. You know, I didn’t used to dread the calls from you when we had a case. Not unless I was in the middle of something or knew I was going to miss something, which wasn’t all that often. But…I’m pretty sure I looked like Fitz killed my puppy yesterday when he
came over to tell us,” Angela admitted with a deep laugh before taking a generous bite of vegetables.
“Definite downside to the job.”
“This is why I just didn’t bother with relationships anymore. Actually, the boyfriend who was in the middle of cheating on me when I surprised him after a case was my last one.”
“You’ve mentioned him twice,” Vince noted.
“Have I? Sorry, I’m not fishing for a conversation about him, I promise. I guess, just...surprising you today brought back the memories a little.”
“I worked with you day in and day out and never knew that something like that happened to you. What kind of partner was I?”
“One who minded his own business. I appreciated it. Besides, I don’t deserve pity. What happened to your marriage was worse.”
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. By the time she sat me down and came clean to me, I already knew our marriage was over. So not only was I already on my way out, but I didn’t…walk in on it happening. She had the decency to tell me instead.”
Angela shook her head and picked at her rice. “I don’t get why people do it, no matter whether they confess to it If you’re not happy with the person you’re with, and someone more appealing comes along, how hard is it to just…choose, you know? You don’t get to have it both ways.”
“You trust me, right?” Vince asked, taking Angela’s left hand in his right.
She almost dropped her chopsticks. “Of course I trust you. More than anyone I know. Why wouldn’t I?”
Vince shrugged again. “Just with all this talk, I didn’t know if you were trying to tell me something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she told him flatly. “I wouldn’t have jumped into this with you if I’d had any doubts. Like I said, coming to your place today was just a trigger. It had nothing to do with you. Eat your vegetables.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re really into Christmas music, aren’t you?”
“Favorite holiday,” Vince said as Bing dreamed about a white Christmas for the third time.
“What’s your favorite thing about it?” Angela asked.
“The snow…the hope, the music, the decorations, my parents putting on a happy face for me and Mitch for a day,” he said with a vague look in his eye. “All of it.”
“Well, we live in Minneapolis, we have decorations and music, and I’m actually happy. Even if it’s February, it’s something, right?”
Vince shrugged and ate the rest of his lunch without really enjoying it until he got to his egg roll.
“Did I say something?” Angela asked when she realized their plates were clean but they hadn’t exchanged a word in a while.
“No,” Vince replied, shaking his head slowly. He took their plates to the sink, Angela following him. “I’m just a little bummed. My turn to ruin the day, I guess.”
“Nonsense. You haven’t ruined anything,” Angela said while Vince downed a glass of water. “Want to decorate?”
“No, that’s okay. You should see Charlie’s Santa pictures, though.”
“Oh my goodness,” Angela said with a tame, drawn-out laugh when Vince started with the photo from when Charlie was four. He was red-faced and teary-eyed, in the middle of screaming. “I am allowed to laugh at that, right?” she asked, sinking into the couch.
Vince laughed as well. “Of course,” he said as he settled in next to her.
Angela handed Vince the first picture and went to the next one. “How precious…not too scared anymore, is he?” Charlie was tugging on Santa’s beard. “Does he still believe?” she asked, moving to the most recent picture in which Charlie sat on Santa’s lap and smiled like a good boy who wanted all the presents he could get.
“Yeah. I don’t want to break it to him, especially now. Even under normal circumstances I think I’d give it another year or two. Keeps him better behaved for a couple months and it’s an easy way for me to find out a couple things that he wants without having to ask Jenna.”
Angela glanced at Vince and showed him a smile. “What’re these?” she inquired, seeing a mountain of construction paper in the bin and leaning forward to look more closely.
“His arts and crafts.”
“May I?” Angela asked, holding up a stack of half-sheets of red and green construction paper, tied together with yarn as a binding to make a little book.
“Of course. That’s Charlie’s Christmas list from last year.”
“Oh-ho-ho,” Angela laughed still, “a spaceship, huh?”
“You know, I don’t think I ever looked at this. I always look at the things he brings home from school. I must’ve been on a case and missed it when I was catching up.”
Angela cozied into Vince as if they were reading a real book together. “A giant fish tank,” Angela continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that species before…”
“He’s got quite the imagination.”
Angela turned the page and saw disproportionate stick figures with giant hands, one of them short, one of them tall. “For Daddy to be happy and play with me more.”
Charlie’s innocent wish cut Vince to the bone, but he held it together for the time being. To convey to Angela that he didn’t need pity right now, he kissed her temple, reached into her lap, and turned the page again. “A new mommy,” he read. A stick figure in a pink and yellow polka dot dress graced he page.
“Maybe this is too private for me to be looking at,” Angela said, closing the book.
Vince didn’t argue as Angela put it away.
“You okay?” she asked hesitantly, rotating to look him in the eye.
“I’m fine,” Vince answered quietly. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put a couple things up. Do you think Charlie would find it unsettling?”
“Does he like Christmas, too?” Angela asked, handing Vince a strand of lights and taking one out herself.
“Loves it.”
“Then I’m sure he won’t mind. You might have to get him a present, though.”
Vince grinned and, upon inspecting the front door, found that Jenna had neglected to take down the plastic clips that had held the lights in place. Hanging them back up was a breeze. Angela found similar clips around the window behind the television and hung up her strands.
“This was my favorite thing to do as a kid,” Vince said, slipping the lid off of the nativity set and taking out the porcelain figurine of Mary. “The rest of the family would start trimming the tree and I always got to set up the nativity scene.”
“I wish I had memories like that,” Angela said dreamily.
“I’m loving this,” Vince muttered, not sensing the bittersweet seasoning of the scene for a moment in time while he looked for Joseph. “This whole set’s been in my family since I was maybe Charlie’s age. My brother dropped one of the Wise Men and broke it when he was three or four, but I spent the whole afternoon gluing him back together. My mom left the set to me when she passed.”
“That’s sweet,” Angela said, running her hand in circles over his back. “Do you want to set it up?”
Vince sucked on his lips as he pondered. “Charlie likes to help me. Maybe I’ll save it for when he gets home.”
“I bet he’d love that. I’d love to watch. It sounds adorable.”
“I thought you didn’t really like Christmas.”
“Eh, I don’t dislike it, it’s just never been particularly special for me, that’s all. But I’d feel different with a family, you know?”
Vince put the nativity set aside and took Angela under his arm. “You know you have one now, right?”
“I do,” she replied, her heart racing.
“This is pretty serious, isn’t it?” Vince said with a cottony mouth.
“I thought we established that.”
A smile begged to break out on his lips, so he let it for a moment before erasing the space between them. “This one might be my favorite,” he said.
“What’s your favorite what?” Angela asked before she touched h
er lips to his.
“My favorite Christmas song—‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas.’”
“I will admit that’s a good one.”
“Dance with me?” Vince asked softly but spiritedly.
Angela let out a whispering giggle. “In the middle of your living room?”
“Yes, in the middle of my living room,” he said, kissing her quickly before taking one of her hands from his shoulder and holding it in his own. “Are you going to make me beg?”
Angela laughed and pressed her cheek to Vince’s shoulder, her nose touching the stubble on his neck and taking in just a hint of cologne. She swayed timidly, waiting for him to take the lead. “Your taste in Christmas music is very predictable, you know.”
“What makes you say that?” Vince murmured.
“I can totally see you being into the Rat Pack.”
“Bing Crosby wasn’t in the Rat Pack. He was a little earlier. He did influence them, though. But still, not a member.”
“Oh, whatever,” Angela said, pinching Vince’s shoulder. “Still the same era. Let me guess. Your record collection also includes Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Sinatra…”
“Maybe,” Vince mumbled into Angela’s hair. He exhaled slowly and pleasantly, his movements already mindless as he tried to seal this memory away someplace secure. The song was already coming to an end, so he led their lazy dance over to the record player and set the needle back a bit, the sound coming back to life in the middle of the record. The melancholy sank in before long, once Vince remembered that his last real Christmas had passed before he had known he would have no more. Every day, he realized, was his last something. Even if today wasn’t the last time Angela surprised him in the middle of the day and danced with him in his living room, it was his last February seventh.
Even more agonizing than the fact that he’d never have another Christmas was the thought of never having a single one with Angela. Even if the holiday wasn’t particularly special to her, he could picture Charlie waking them up early on Christmas morning and Angela enjoying herself, watching Charlie tear open gifts in front of the tree. He could envision the two of them staying up all night wrapping those gifts, even. He could smell the pine of the real wreath he would sneak into the apartment, following the building rules when it came to trees but unable to resist the temptation completely. Vince realized the foolishness of this little Christmas celebration all too late, his mouth quivering. The softness of Angela’s hair against his chin wasn’t enough to keep him grounded. He tried to ward off the tears by pressing his lips together tightly and opening his eyes wide, but his chest shook, waking Angela from oblivion. He saw her rounded eyes through the tears in which his own were slowly drowning. She didn’t tell him to stop. “I know,” was all she said.
“I’m sorry,” Vince choked. He freed Angela’s hand and wrapped his arms around her shoulders instead, holding on for dear life.
Her voice was soothing in intent but hardly effective. “It’s okay.” She moved her hand to his back and pressed firmly, rubbing up and down. “I know. It’s okay.”
Vince would do just about anything at this moment in time for just one more Christmas, a peaceful day to spend with Angela and Charlie, a chance for Charlie to feel like he had some semblance of a mother besides his aunt, a chance for him to see his father in utter bliss. Charlie had gotten his wish of getting more time with his dad, but Vince felt like he’d fallen short on showing Charlie a brighter, happier side of him. It was difficult, given the circumstances, but now that he knew that Charlie had written down his wish for a better father-son experience, he had to do everything in his power not to disappoint him.
“Some days I wake up thinking things are getting a little easier,” Vince started, not wanting to leave Angela in the dark.
She reached behind her and turned off the music.
“I’ll think it’s getting easier,” Vince repeated, “but then I’ll think I’m not doing enough. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think Charlie thinks I’m happy?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I know he loves every second he gets to spend with you, though. Why?”
“Like I said, it feels like I’m not doing enough.”
“You are. You’re doing such a good job with him.”
“I think I can do better,” Vince struggled, sniffling. “I want him to see my lighthearted side, you know? I used to be more spontaneous, funny, more willing to laugh at myself. It was a long time ago, but I can show him more of that. I can’t let him down any more than I already will by leaving. I can’t give him a spaceship…”
“And I’m sure you’re not allowed to have a giant fish tank in the apartment,” Angela pointed out.
“But I can be with him more, and I am, and I can lighten up around him. I’m not being the dad I want him to remember for the rest of his life.”
“You’re doing an amazing job with what you’ve been given,” Angela reassured him. Charlie’s wish for a new mom didn’t even come to mind. All she could think about was reeling Vince back in.
“But I can do better,” Vince said resolutely.
“Maybe we can start by putting the kibosh on this Christmas in February thing. Any joy it might give him is going to be overshadowed by the fact that it’s depressing you.”
“Are you still sure about us?” Vince asked, relaxing his hold and putting a few inches between their faces.
Angela frowned, her eyes full of hurt that Vince kicked himself for causing. “Of course I’m still sure. Listen, I’m not really…one to demand a whole lot of promises. But can you please make me one?”
Vince nodded and accepted a surprising, soft kiss.
Angela simply stared Vince down. “Promise me you’ll never ask me that question again.”
