39
Target, like I should have expected, is a chaotic mess.
After Mom had left, the condo was too quiet and the ghosts of Michael’s and my past were creeping in. So, I decided to head out to find something small to gift both Charlie and Sydney.
I manage to squeeze past the masses into the non-fiction book section.
I had already shopped the men’s section and picked out some winter essentials for Charlie, playing it safe and not guessing sizes.
A nice scarf with matching gloves and winter hat.
I’ll grab some festive chocolates, or something, to go with them.
Now I wanted to pick out a baking book for Sydney, since she had recently been divulging her attempts at experimenting in new offerings at the bookstore.
It was also safe buying a cookbook without appearing cheap as we didn’t really have a diverse cookbook selection at the shop. They just, for some reason, never sold well.
“This would be the last place I’d expect to find you.
” My eyes freeze reading the back of Paul Hollywood’s new release, the familiar voice stopping me cold.
I look to my left to find Alex standing there, holding a James Patterson book.
Of course it’s a fucking Patterson in his hands. “Don’t you own a bookstore?”
“If you had bothered paying attention when in there, you’d realize this isn’t really something we carry.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be over in Dublin doing teaching things?” He drops the Patterson book on the shelf, covering a different book title.
Alex, annoyingly, looks good. I mean, honestly. Who dresses up in a three-piece suit to go to, what appears to be, last minute Christmas shopping at Target.
“Well people famously travel to spend the holidays with their family. What is it you actually want Alex?”
Alex shuffles his hand basket from his left to right hand. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, actually. It’s funny we ran into each other here, don’t you think? Like it’s a sign from the universe that, now you’re back, maybe we give this thing another go.”
I chuckle, putting the Paul Hollywood book in my basket. “Been thinking about me that much huh? Funny because I don’t recall my phone blowing up with any texts or calls or anything.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Why are you always like this?”
“A voice of logic and common sense?”
“Make every single little thing difficult.”
I move past Alex and walk down the aisle. At the end, I slightly turn my head. “For the record I’m not back. I’ll be headed to Dublin after the holiday.”
“Well, while you’re in town, maybe you could stay over? You know it was good when we were together.”
I smirk. “Alex, I would rather jerk off with sandpaper than let you touch my dick ever again.” The woman entering the aisle looks from me to Alex, then decides to turn around.
I head toward the food aisles, feeling his eyes burning into the back of my head. “Goodbye Alex!” I yell, turning the corner, hopefully the last time I ever have to see his face.
* * *
I’m just finishing wrapping my last gift when Mom comes in, clutching a handful of bags. “Let me take those,” I say, reaching out to her overfilled hands.
“I got these. You grab the rest from the car.”
I look at the open trunk, noting that Mom appears to be making a feast for an army.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Daniel I see?” Denise is standing on the sidewalk, a small corgi pulling at the leash in her hand.
“Hey Denise. Just back for the holiday. Did you get a new puppy?” I walk over and bend down at dog level, my face immediately getting covered in dog slobber.
“This is Russell. He’s a rescue I’m fostering but, between you and me, I plan on keeping.”
I scratch behind Russell’s ears. I’m about to ask how she came up with the name, but I figure it out.
I’ve read some of the many, many pamphlets Denise has dropped at the condo over the years.
Russell was the last name of the founder of Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Of course she would name the dog something related to the church.
“Well, he’s adorable. I always wanted a dog when I was younger but Dad was super allergic. I think Mom always wanted one though.”
“I’m so glad to see her here with you. I think about you two every time I walk by your condo. The man staying here keeps to himself. Well, mostly. Outside the many women I’ve seen leave in the morning.”
“Denise! Ugh I didn’t need to know that.” My brain links Aidan to Grayson from Cougar Town. And, if I wasn’t already, I’m washing all the bedding on the hottest setting as soon as I go inside.
“What, like you haven’t been having a time over in Dublin?”
She legit winks at me.
“Something like that, or more so just one person. Not sure what I’ll be returning to.”
Denise pulls at the leash, stopping Russell from eating something hidden in the grass. “Well, I better let you get to it. I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing. It was good seeing you, Daniel.”
Denise is halfway down the sidewalk before I look over at her condo, the lack of decoration. The one car in the driveway. “Hey Denise?” She turns. “Would you want to join us for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow?”
She smiles. “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you. But I’ll have to pass as we don’t celebrate Christmas.” Ahh, that’s right. I forgot that was a thing.
I wave, turning back to the open trunk. I shuffle the bags inside, just as a light snow begins to fall outside.
Mom is already in the kitchen, filling ingredients into the mixer. “Want to help me make cookies for tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing us both aprons from the drawer. I hesitate, holding Michael’s old apron in my hand, before handing mine to Mom and putting Michael’s on me. “I invited Denise to Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow.”
Mom pauses mid-pour of flour. “Isn’t that your crazy religious neighbor?”
I laugh. “Yes. I bumped into her outside and it dawned on me that she would likely be alone tomorrow. And she’s always been nice to us, outside the constant barrage of church invites.”
“She does mean well,” Mom agrees, continuing with what I presume is a batch of her Twix snickerdoodles. “Why don’t you get going on the Rice Krispie treats and then we can start our first movie.”
* * *
I look over at the clock, now just after ten. Mom is passed out on the couch, glass of wine in hand hanging over the side of the couch. I get up and grab the glass, placing it securely on the coffee table.
I take the basket of clean bedding and bring it upstairs, stopping first in my bedroom.
Mom had stripped the sheets off the beds after I told her what Denise had said, so this is the first time I’ve seen my bedroom in months.
It’s mostly the same, sans a few books and a couple of things here or there that belong to Aidan.
I quickly make up the bed, taking the basket with me as I return to the hallway.
I stand outside Michael’s room, a room I haven’t seen in months. A room that hasn’t been touched since Michael died. I couldn’t bring myself to go in there, and no one from his family had come to collect his things. Or even asked about them. I take a deep breath and open the door.
The first thing I notice is how clean the room is, especially for a room that should’ve been covered in layers of dust by now. Mom must have done some cleaning when she stripped the bed.
I sit down at Michael’s desk, still covered in notes about his unfinished novel.
The one that has been tweaked and worked for months by many other hands.
It’s interesting to see all the random thoughts scattered about, the ones that made it into the book and ones that did not. But there is one that catches my eye:
Title Ideas. Something about nighttime, or darkness. Maybe with the night sky? All the Collapsing Stars? Breaking the Moon?
Niall and I, along with the students, had been debating for weeks what the title of the book should be. The story was so engaging, so well written. But the title, the title had been alluding us. None of us had any good ideas.
But Breaking the Moon? It’s perfect. I take my phone out of my pocket, hovering over my text chain with Niall, and decide against it. I shouldn’t pressure him to respond, let him come to me when he’s ready.
“Were you going to just let me sleep like that on the couch? I already feel it in my lower back.” Mom grabs the sheets and starts making the bed. I jump in to assist. “This your first time in this room since—”
“Yes,” I say, tucking in the corner of the sheet. “It hurt too much to do before I left. To see his things. The only thing I took of his was the draft of his book, but that had been in the office of the store. Not here.”
Mom grabs a blanket from the closet. Michael’s favorite blanket, covered in a print of various cat faces.
“This is the bedding for you, eh? A blanket covered in pussy?”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Michael had said, throwing the blanket in the Kohl’s cart. “I think it’s purrfect.”
“God you are the worst.”
“Lost you there for a second,” Mom says, laying the blanket flat on the bed.
“In a memory. Specifically, when this heinous blanket was purchased.”
Mom laughs. “I particularly enjoy it. I’ve always wanted a cat but, you know, your father’s allergies.”
“Then you should have the blanket. And get a cat. Dad’s been gone for like two decades Mom. You deserve to get that cat.”
“Maybe I will. But I need my beauty sleep. Busy day tomorrow.”
I get up from the corner of the bed and head to the hallway. “Thanks again for coming.”
“You and I, kiddo. Always.”
“You and I,” I repeat, “always.”