30. Dottie
30
DOTTIE
Age Seven
In the movies, it's always snowing on Christmas Eve. White flakes fall from the sky, covering the ground while families drink hot chocolate. Reindeer fly through the air and Santa squeezes down chimneys to leave presents.
I don't have a chimney, so even if Santa was real and decided to come to my house tonight, I don't know how he would get in. I guess I could let him in my bedroom window.
But he's not real, and there's no snow. There's never any snow here.
Mom fell asleep a long time ago. She was drinking her pink juice while I watched Rudolph on cable, and she drifted off on the couch. She gets real mad when the TV wakes her up, and the songs in Christmas specials are loud, so I went to my room. I got bored and snuck out my window. The sun only just went down, and sometimes Stephen is still outside playing even after the streetlights come on. But he wasn't outside when I got out here.
I can hear music coming from his house. Maybe they're having a party, like the one I'll go to tomorrow at Kira's house. That's always the best part of Christmas, when her dads come to pick me up and bring me to their house on Christmas afternoon. We always eat flat spaghetti covered in sauce and cheese and something called brisket, and Kira and Dean always share with me when we play with their new toys. They're the nicest kids I know.
Except Stephen. He's nicer. I'm glad he moved in next door.
The back door next door swings open, and from my spot in my backyard, I can see Mr. Hudson light a cigarette. I can smell their dinner now–turkey, maybe, like the one Mrs. Hudson made on Thanksgiving. My stomach rumbles, and I wonder if I can sneak into the kitchen and get a granola bar for dinner without waking Mom up. I think I have some snacks still left hiding in my closet, but the food next door smells so good. Mrs. Hudson is the best cook.
I stand up and tiptoe across the lawn, and when Mr. Hudson sees me, he curses and drops his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.
"Well, hello there Miss Dottie Lynn. Merry Christmas to you," he says cheerfully. He looks a little bit like Santa with his belly, but he's not as big .
"Merry Christmas Mr. Hudson," I say quietly, just in case Mom can hear me from here and wakes up. She usually sleeps really hard, but I don’t want to risk getting in trouble and missing out on Kira's Christmas party tomorrow. Mr. Hudson kneels in front of me. He does that whenever he talks to me. He's tall, but he always comes down low so I can see him.
"It's a little chilly out here, don't you think? Why aren't you inside with your mama?" he asks me. I shrug.
"My Mom is asleep. I was bored." My stomach rumbles again, and I feel embarrassed.
"You know what, little lady? We're having a celebration inside, and Mrs. Hudson made a whole lot of food. Stephen and Delilah are helping her decorate Christmas cookies. What do you say about going in and joining them?"
I want to, I really want to. But I get nervous. I look back over my shoulder, wondering how long I can be gone for before Mom notices.
"No need to wake up your mama. I'll have Mrs. Hudson give her a ring and let her know you're safe over here."
"I don't want to get in trouble," I whisper. I feel like I'm going to cry, and I don't know why.
"You don't worry one bit about getting in trouble. There's nothing wrong with spending some time with friends on Christmas Eve. That's what the holidays are all about. Go on inside and get yourself some cookies and a chocolate milk, alright?" Mr. Hudson stands and opens the back door, and I go in .
"Dorothea!" Stephen calls from the kitchen table. He's got green frosting all over his hands. "Come make cookies with us! Can she, Mom?"
I turn and look at Mrs. Hudson, who nods as Mr. Hudson whispers something in her ear.
We make cookies and listen to Christmas carols. We eat turkey and drink hot chocolate with candy canes stuck in them, and Mr. and Mrs. Hudson put on a movie called Home Alone. Stephen says they watch it every year. I've never seen it before, but it's really funny. In the morning after I wake up in Delilah's bed with her, we go downstairs and there are a million presents under the tree. Some of them even have my name on them.
"Can I come here every Christmas?" I ask Mrs. Hudson when all the presents are opened and she's helping me braid my new doll's hair.
"Of course you can, Dottie Lynn. Every single Christmas."