CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
Uncomfortable heat beat through me. Compliments always made me feel out of place, if only because I’d convinced myself they were a placating measure.
Past the rush of nerves was a curious excitement from taking part in this family.
Gabriel returned and sat next to me while Amelia showed him the coloring book.
He bragged about my art skills, deepening my blush.
“Martha, light of my life,” an older man with a bushy white mustache said as he joined us in the living room, looking flustered. “I love you, but you’re a pack-rat.”
She huffed. “It was your idea to store the chairs behind the clutter.”
“Dad, come meet Jake and I’ll help you fish out the chairs in a bit,” Gabriel said, shooting to his feet.
“Where are my manners?” He said and approached. I got up and accepted his hand, his grip firm. It was difficult meeting his eyes, but I didn’t want to be rude. “So this is the young man I’ve heard so much about.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I said, something dry and scratchy stuck in my throat. Gabriel’s palm on my back gave me the courage I needed.
“Likewise. I was curious about the person making my son so happy.”
I passed a look to Gabriel who was beaming. He was so happy about introducing me to his family that the positive emotions sank into me. I could do this for him, couldn’t I?
“Let me help you find those chairs, Dad.”
“Wait!” I blurted. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. I supposed that I really wanted to be a part of this wonderful family. “Can I give them their gift now?”
He smiled all the brighter. “That’s a good idea. I want you guys to see what Jake got you.”
“That wasn’t necessary,” Martha said and accepted the gift from Gabriel.
“You open it, Mom,” he said. “You’re going to love it.”
I watched with trepidation as she tore the paper from the box and pushed the bubble wrap aside to reveal the framed drawing. She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, this isn’t…?”
Mr. Northcotte sat next to her and pushed his glasses up his nose. “It’s Scrappy!”
“I…tried to photograph the recreate, er…recreate the photograph as realistically as possible,” I said, my breath hard to come. Stop talking, you sound like an idiot!
Nervous heat rushed to my cheeks as time slowed down. I couldn’t tell if they liked it. They probably thought it was silly and weren't sure how to let me down easily. I wished I’d stayed silent.
Martha got up and propped the frame on the mantle, next to a photograph of a young girl holding a cat. She stood there for a moment, and I wanted to slink away, but where could I hide? When she turned to me, tears were in her eyes, and she pulled me into a hug.
“Thank you, Jake. Your gift is so thoughtful,” she said and patted my cheek. “It looks exactly like him. I loved that little pain in the behind.”
“Scrappy was very special to us,” Mr. Northcotte said. “We found him abandoned and hungry on our honeymoon, so we took him home.”
Gabriel winked at me, and I heard his thoughts in my mind: Told ya so.
“We should open all our presents now!” Amelia exclaimed.
“Why not?” Martha shrugged, her eyes reflecting the colorful lights of the tree.
The evening wound on as we gathered in the living room.
Opening the mountain of presents took a good hour, colorful paper flying everywhere and laughter filling the house.
Every time a package was plopped in my arms, something warm and cozy uncurled in my stomach.
The Northcottes gifted me a down jacket from Canada Goose and a leather belt from Ermenegildo Zegna.
I hadn’t heard of either label, but everything was quality and no doubt expensive.
It made my little gift seem like a package of Hanes underwear.
Gabriel had gotten a fantasy-themed play kitchen for Amelia, her screams of excitement making me smile. Mr. Northcotte filmed them with his phone as Gabriel helped her bake ‘fairy pies’ and I couldn’t help thinking he’d make a great dad.
Slowly, the ball of nerves in my stomach loosened.
I colored pictures with Amelia and Martha regaled me with stories of Gabriel when he was young.
I caught myself smiling and laughing. When it came time to start dinner, I helped peel potatoes.
Martha asked a little about me, which made me uneasy, but Gabriel did the talking, steering her to safer subjects.
Time slipped by the cold darkness outside stayed by the warm light of this family.
There was tension in the air though. Mr. Northcotte kept checking his phone and I didn’t miss the harshness in Gabriel’s expression as it got later and later.
As we sat down at the dinner table, Amelia looked to the empty chair and asked, “Where is Mommy?”
“I’m sure she’s on her way, honey,” Mr. Northcotte said.
Martha and Gabriel looked down as if they wanted to refute his assertion.
“Let’s wait a few more minutes,” Mr. Northcotte said, looking at his phone again. “Then we will eat.”
I wasn’t surprised when Amelia’s missing mother didn’t show up because I understood the look on these people’s faces. This happy family had a monster preying on one of them.
Martha said a little prayer and we started eating.
The mood lightened a little with Amelia telling everyone about all the gifts she’d gotten this year and wanted to know if she were extra good, would she get more next time.
The simplicity of a child’s thinking had always connected with me, and I supposed it was because I’d been emotionally stunted by my own mother.
Maybe I just wished things were simpler.
Then again, my childhood had been anything but uncomplicated.
We enjoyed baked ham, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and warm, buttered rolls.
Gabriel passed me a smile as he bit into the roll, and I wondered if I’d changed him in some small way.
He’d certainly left a mark on me. Maybe he didn’t think he needed to be super skinny for someone to love him anymore.
Everything was delicious and it took me a while to find the courage to compliment Martha on her excellent Christmas dinner.
The brief moment of joviality died as we finished our meals.
“Gama, can I be excused to color my fairies?” Amelia asked.
“Sure, dear,” Martha said tightly. When she was out of earshot, she said to me, “Our daughter, Amelia’s mother is…irresponsible.”
Gabriel snorted. “That’s putting it lightly.”
Mr. Northcotte didn’t like that and passed him a dark look.
He set his fork down. “Are we going to pretend she was ever going to show up today? You never should have told Amelia she was coming. Now she will be let down. Again.”
“Please,” Martha interjected. “Not now.”
I felt like an interloper. I wanted to leave the table but was afraid any little move would draw attention to myself.
“Sorry, Jake. My sister is an addict that loves her drug of choice more than her family,” he bit out, glaring at his father.
“That’s enough!” Mr. Northcotte growled. “We’re not doing this on Christmas in front of guests.”
Everyone was quiet and still for a long moment, and I could feel my heartbeat thrumming through me.
“You should have never told Amelia,” Gabriel said softly and buried his face in his hands.
“Jake, dear, would you mind giving me a hand with the pies?” Martha asked as she rose to her feet.
“Sure,” I said and followed her into the kitchen.
I could hear Gabriel arguing with his father in the dining room, the hushed, sharp words hurting my heart.
It was always those around the monster’s prey that got hurt the worst, wasn’t it?
Martha sliced up a cranberry pie and I helped her load the dessert plates.
When we returned to the dining table, Gabriel and Mr. Northcotte looked destroyed.
Everyone just stared at their slice of pie, the sound of the clock ticking grading.
“I don’t like this, Gabe. I’m worried. Something is nipping at me. She’s not answering any of my texts or calls. I just need to know she is okay. I can’t put my finger on it, but…”
Gabriel blew out a long rush of breath and I knew with a single look he’d given up on his sister a long time ago. “Okay, Dad. Let’s go find her. Just give me a moment.”
“I’m going to put dinner away,” Martha said numbly as they got up. “Then I’ll make some calls and see if anyone has heard from her.”
Gabriel returned to me and kissed my forehead. “I’m really sorry about this. I was hoping this year would be different… Hang out here and keep Mom and Amelia company for me. Will you do that?”
“Okay.”
He kissed me several times, each a little deeper as if he were the one that needed support.
When they were gone, I sat down at the coffee table where Amelia was staring at her crayons.
Martha was on the phone, and I bit my lip in indecision.
I’d always hated people trying to talk to me when I was feeling sad.
“Your mom does this a lot, huh?” I asked, unable to help myself.
She nodded weakly.
“My mom used to disappear all the time, too.”
Big gray eyes turned to me. “Really?”
“Yeah. Sometimes she’d be gone so long, she’d forget about me. But… even when she was home, it felt like she’d forgotten about me anyway.”
She frowned and colored a fairy’s wing messily.
“What’s the monster that takes your mom away from you?” I asked. Kids were smart. They knew what was going on. “You can tell me. I know that you know. It’s okay.”
“I hear Pawpaw tell Gama it’s crystals. But crystals are pretty. How can they be monsters?”
Crystal meth. Of course it had to be one of the worst. “These are bad crystals. They’re black and ugly. Really mean monsters.”
“I hate them!” She hissed and stabbed the crayon into the paper.
“Me too,” I said solemnly. “My mother’s monster pretended to be fairy dust, but it was really poisonous ash. These monsters, sometimes we don’t know they’re monsters until it’s too late.”
She said nothing, just stared at her coloring.
“When I was your age I wished I could be a superhero so I could fly away from all the things that made me sad.”
“Like a fairy?” She asked with wonder.
“Yeah, like a fairy. But I didn’t have anyone like your grandmother and grandfather or Uncle Gabriel to protect me from the monster.
It was just me for a long time. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but you haven’t done anything wrong.
Sometimes the monsters steal those we love and we’re not strong enough to fight them. That doesn’t make it our fault.”
She came closer and offered me a pink crayon. “Help me color?”
“Okay,” I said.
I couldn’t help feeling protective of her.
These wonderful people, as much as I liked them, couldn’t know what it was like to be a child with a drug-addicted mother.
Gabriel was right. His father shouldn’t have told Amelia her mother was coming.
The hope that my own mother would be home soon died a more painful death when she didn’t come home.
As we colored, my attention was drawn to my silly gift on the mantle. In the way I’d never fit into my mother’s life, I didn’t fit in here. Thankfully, Amelia had one heck of a support system. The whole situation made me want to cry and I didn’t know why.
Everything slammed into me at once. The waiting for my mother to come home with something to eat and the fear of asking because she might yell at me.
The ever-revolving door of Johns and boyfriends that wanted to hurt me if I got in the way.
The love from my aunt, quickly taken away because she didn’t have health insurance and the years of misery growing up in the system and not knowing where I belonged in the world. How could Gabriel ever…love me?