Chapter Thirty-Four
FRANK - JOHNSTON, NY
Frank drove to Teresa’s house on Christmas morning, singing along with Nat King Cole about tiny tots with their eyes all aglow.
He thought of his kids—no longer tots—and their Christmas-morning routine, which comprised eating breakfast in their pajamas while opening their presents.
His gifts were all wrapped and ready to go in a bag in the back seat.
He parked the car and looked up at the house, seeing the Christmas-tree lights twinkling even in the daylight.
He rang the bell. Anthony opened the door and beamed when he saw his father. “Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, kiddo. Merry Christmas.” Frank leaned over and gave him a hug. Anthony’s hair smelled like baby shampoo. Frank laughed to himself. His son was a teenager, and his hair still smelled like a baby.
“Who is it, Anthony?” Teresa called from inside.
“It’s Dad,” Anthony answered.
“What? What’s he doing here?” Teresa asked.
Frank froze in place. That wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear.
“He came to see us for Christmas,” Anthony answered, not taking his eyes off Frank and looking at him questioningly as if he wanted to know if that was the correct answer.
Frank heard rustling inside, and then Teresa appeared at the door, shooing Anthony back and blocking Frank’s view into the house. “Frank, you can’t just show up like this. It’s Christmas. We talked about this. It’s my holiday with the kids.”
Over the last two years, Frank and Teresa had been flexible about the holidays, splitting them up or alternating.
This year, Frank was getting the kids on Christmas night, and the plan was for them to stay over and spend the following day with him, as he had off work.
Today was Teresa’s time with them, but he’d wanted to surprise them with his gifts this morning. Is that a crime?
“I know, but I missed them. I wanted to see them. And you. I brought presents,” he said, gesturing to the bag in his hands.
Anthony’s eyes twinkled with delight. Such a kid.
“No, Frank. That’s not how this works. You’re interrupting my holiday. You can’t just mosey on over because you miss the kids. Sorry, but that’s unacceptable. And...” She looked back into the house.
“And what?” Frank asked, ignoring the rest of her comments. Now he was curious. Is someone in there?
“I have company,” Teresa said matter-of-factly, standing up straighter and looking defiant.
“Company? What does that mean?” She was hiding something, and Frank wanted to know what. No, he had to know.
“My friend... Larry is here. He’s spending Christmas with us.”
“Oh. And who is Larry?” Frank asked in an accusatory tone.
“None of your business,” Teresa snapped, raising her voice and stepping out onto the landing. Frank could still see Anthony’s head peeping out, curious as ever. “He’s my boyfriend.” She looked Frank directly in the eye.
Frank had known this day would come at some point, but that didn’t mean he was ready for it. “Your boyfriend? Spending Christmas with my wife and kids?”
“I’m not your wife anymore, Frank.”
“Technically, you are. We haven’t finalized the divorce yet.”
Teresa had started the process a few months before, which Frank knew had been a long time coming, but it still stung.
“Seriously? I haven’t been your wife for years, Frank. You can’t just decide we’re still technically married when it’s convenient for you. You have no say in what I do or who I see.”
Frank slammed his hand into the door. Teresa and Anthony both jumped back.
“Frank!” Teresa screamed.
In a moment, a large man was standing in the doorway, placing his hand on Teresa’s shoulder. “Is everything okay, Teresa?”
The man didn’t look at Frank, instead keeping his eyes glued on Teresa.
But Frank couldn’t turn away. He was staring at him—this man who was dating his wife and spending the holiday with his children.
He had a thick mane of brown hair and a trim mustache and was neatly dressed in slacks, shoes, and a button-down shirt.
He was tall—and stocky. He made an imposing figure, standing next to Teresa, claiming her.
“Son of a bitch,” Frank muttered.
Larry turned and looked at him directly. His face was calm but serious. “I think you should leave.”
Frank felt his anger rise a notch higher. This bastard was telling him what to do. He couldn’t believe the nerve.
“Yes, Frank, I need you to leave. You can give the kids their gifts when they come to your apartment later tonight for your scheduled visit,” Teresa said in an even tone.
Who is this woman? Frank thought. She seemed so different. He didn’t like it at all. Not one bit.
“Fine. I’ll leave. But this is bullshit.
Absolute bullshit.” He turned to go, thought about it again, and then dropped the bag of gifts at his feet on the landing.
“I want my kids to open their fucking Christmas gifts on Christmas morning. Is that too much to ask? I’m leaving these here.
The least you can do is bring them into the house and put them under the tree. ”
He knew he had no right to be angry and was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help himself. His feeling of propriety was strong. That’s my wife and kids in there, dammit. No matter what.