by Nella Tyler
Brent immediately averted his eyes, keeping a quiet resolve about himself. However, after a moment of what seemed to be contemplation, he answered my harsh accusation with simple sincerity, “Dexter, I know your father well. Besides your mother, of course, I think I was the only person he truly trusted, and in being that person, I can tell you that your father is proud of you.”
I huffed, unintentionally scoffing in disbelief. Although I had plenty of retorts that I wholeheartedly believed, I didn’t speak.
Thus, Brent’s shoulders rose and fell with a kind of indifference that made me feel as though I shouldn’t have been so callous.
“Well,” he offered eventually, “Like I said, I know Mazie shouldn’t have told me the news, but if the thought hasn’t registered yet, it was only because she is proud of you and wants to share your accomplishments. She really does care about you, Dex, and I have a feeling she has cared about you for a really long time.”
I averted my eyes, feeling guilty.
However, when Brent’s voice rose in volume, I returned my attention to him.
“Will you please join us for dinner tonight? I think it would mean the world to Mazie.”
When my gaze caught his, Brent was grinning widely, and I felt my heart beat hastily.
I grinned and before I could stop myself, or talk myself out of it, I had found that I was already in the process of agreeing.
Mazie
When my father walked in, late on Christmas Eve morning, I thought it was strange, but I wasn’t about to question it.
My mother, on the other hand, was nearly ready for a fight.
“It’s Christmas, Brent, where did you go off to so early?” she demanded, spatula in hand as it sunk deep into her hips, accompanying her attitude.
“I’m sorry…I had to talk to one more client before Christmas, and since you girls were sleeping in, I figured it would be the best time to go.”
My mother rolled her eyes, and while I understood her frustration, having dealt with this my entire life, I was sympathetic toward my father.
“Well, sit down. Your breakfast is almost ready,” my mother huffed, shaking her head as her anger dissipated.
“Good morning,” I grinned, momentarily missing being at my parents’ house all the time and hearing their bantering. In a strange way, it was comforting to me.
It was a sign that I was home.
Without it, I knew that the holiday wouldn’t be the same. So, in a way, I was glad my father had incited it since my parents seemed to be on good behavior since I had arrived.
Given that my father was always working, it wasn’t a surprise that he had just one more task to complete. In fact, it would be strange if that was truly the last occupational distraction he had before Christmas morning.
The rest of the day was spent decorating the house and putting up the tree, as was our family tradition. Since my father was always busy, we were never able to decorate for Christmas properly until the night before, when there was less of a chance that something catastrophic would pull him away.
Usually, that plan was successful, and this year we were lucky.
Despite my father’s early morning escape, we could have a family-filled day that went interrupted.
This helped me get into the spirit.
Slightly exhausted from the physical exertion of decorating a house the size of my parents’ home, my father and I were resting before dinner.
He looked at his phone and I wondered briefly if this was going to be the start of another outburst from my mother.
However, when he grinned, looking up at me, I figured it was something else.
“I have an early present for you,” he exclaimed, and although I had no idea how a glance at his phone could yield a present, I couldn’t help but be excited.
After all, Christmas had always brought out the child in me, no matter how old I got, and after a day of Yuletide traditions, the youthful exuberance was returning.
I beamed as my father glanced at the door. A moment later, as though on cue, someone knocked.
I shot my father a strange look, confused at who could be at the door.
I thought of teasing my father and asking if he had invited Santa to Christmas Eve dinner, but I decided against it.
My father didn’t respond to my strange look. Instead, he simply grinned at me expectantly.
I cautiously opened the door but was genuinely surprised to see Dexter standing there.
“Hi…” I replied, trying not to seem overly surprised, “What…what are you doing here?”
“He’s here for dinner, of course!” my father exclaimed, walking up behind me with a merry expression. “Hello, Dexter,” my father exclaimed, “Please excuse my daughter’s terrible hospitality. Come in out of the cold.” He nudged me playfully, but I was still confused as to why Dexter was even here, much less why he was coming for dinner.
“Hi, Mazie,” Dexter grinned brightly as he walked past me, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawson.” He nodded to my father.
“Merry Christmas,” he replied, patting Dexter on the back as he passed him.
“Dinner!” my mother called, as though on cue from inside the kitchen, before coming out to the living room, looking almost as surprised as I was. “Good evening, Dexter. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course,” my father chimed in joyfully, “I invited Dexter to come have dinner with us. I hope you don’t mind?”
Immediately, her expression brightened. She had always loved Dexter and had openly wondered why the two of us had never gotten together.
If she only knew, I thought, trying to will my face not to redden.
“Oh, no! Of course not! We always have room for one more,” she replied enthusiastically, turning quickly in order to set another place. “Merry Christmas, dear!” my mother called behind her.
I giggled as my father left us, almost abruptly.
“Your mom is enthusiastic about the holidays like my mother was,” Dexter mused, his eyes unfocused, as though he were reveling in fond memories.
“She’s always had quite the flair for the dramatic,” I agreed. “But no one did Christmas better than your mother.”
Dexter’s eyes traveled back to mine with a gracious expression in his gaze.
“Yeah, she really did love to entertain, especially Christmas. If it was possible to make it festive, she was the one to figure out how to do it,” he answered, “Funny how she ended up with Scrooge.”
I laughed, “Oh, come on. Your father isn’t that bad.”
“Yes, Mazie. He is,” he teased as my mother came back to shuffle us to the table.
“These seven fish aren’t going to eat themselves!”
“Oh, you do like fish, right?” I offered, “Because if you don’t, you’re kind of SOL.”
My mother flashed a dirty look back in my direction, but I ignored it, considering I didn’t curse.
She shook her head, and Dexter chuckled.
“I’ll manage, thanks.”
The meal was interesting and entertaining. Dexter was a magnificent talker. When he told a story, he rattled on and regardless of whether you had a clue what he was talking about or not, he captivated his audience with every word.
It was kind of amazing, and of course, my parents were even more enthralled than I was.
Even with everything that had gone on between the two of us over the course of the past few weeks, I couldn’t help but think this was how it was supposed to be. I enjoyed having Dexter sit at the family dinner table, and I was proud to be the reason, ultimately, he was there.
Since my parents already knew Dexter, it was also far easier, knowing that he wasn’t on parental trial.
After all, my father had invited him, so he obviously had fought for him to be there.
Desert followed swiftly after the large dinner that my mother prepared, but it was still late by the time the final course was finished.
Yet, Dexter didn’t seem to be in any hurry, since he finish
ed his coffee slowly and graciously accepted another cup.
Once dinner was officially over, though, I walked Dexter out, wanting some alone time to talk to him.
“Hey, listen, Mazie…” Dexter started before I could say anything, as soon as the door was closed, “I’m sorry about the way I reacted. I was being dumb and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he grinned in a truly contrite and somewhat ashamed manner, “I guess I’m not really good about letting anyone into my personal business.”
Though I appreciated what he was saying, I couldn’t help but be caught off guard. After all, everything that had happened was my fault, not his.
“I’m sorry too. I would’ve never said anything if I had thought for one minute that you hadn’t already told everyone. I never meant to take that news away from you.”
He chuckled, lightly putting a hand on my shoulder, “Mazie, I know. It’s okay. I understand…and I’m sorry. I completely overreacted.”
I grinned, “I’m sorry too.”
“So…maybe after Christmas, we can get together?” Dexter asked hopefully, and my heart immediately started to beat quickly.
“Yes! Of course,” I insisted, grinning confidently.
He shook his head in confirmation and sounded genuinely relieved when he spoke, “That’s great!”
When he gazed into my eyes then, I could’ve sworn he was going to kiss me. However, at the last moment, as though we were teenagers again, he settled for a hasty hug and a peck on the cheek before stepping off the porch.
Still, I couldn’t have been happier.
After he left, I ran inside and hugged my father so tight, he grunted before laughing with what little breath he had left.
“What’s this for?”
“Because you’re the best! That was the best gift ever!” I exclaimed as he chuckled.
For the first time in a long time, I was actually able to genuinely appreciate exactly how much I loved my father and how much he meant to me.
Dexter
When I woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sure what I would be in for.
The fact that it was Christmas usually wasn’t any excuse to be overly nice to me, and I wondered if my father would be angry over my absence. I had left him a voicemail telling him about the invitation, and he had never called me back. Therefore I couldn’t be sure what to expect.
I was plagued with a certain feeling that told me I didn’t even want to see him. It was Christmas, after all, and I didn’t feel like being bombarded with trivial aggravation.
However, I was certain that I would never be able to let myself live it down if this, in fact, was my father’s last Christmas and I had blown him off entirely.
After all, I had gone back to my mother’s house to wake up there on Christmas morning. It was a last-minute decision, but I figured it would mean nothing if I snuck out before my father saw me.
So, somewhat begrudgingly, I walked downstairs.
I wasn’t particularly surprised to see that my father was already awake. He was sitting in the recliner, reading a newspaper, with his coffee sitting next to him on a small end table.
My father seemed to never sleep, which was one of the few qualities I had wished I had inherited from him. Alas, it was one that I was certain by now, I was denied.
“Good morning,” I offered, trying to sound cheery, “Merry Christmas!”
“Good morning,” my father half grunted as I took a seat on the couch next to the recliner. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, “Sorry I didn’t get to see you last night, but I thought I would come over after dinner and stay the night so that I could see you first thing this morning.”
My father’s eyes rose carefully, almost judgmentally above his reading glasses to stare pointedly at me.
“You wanted to spend Christmas morning with me?” he scoffed.
“Who wouldn’t want to see your cheery disposition first thing Christmas morning?” I retorted in a mockingly cheery tone.
He grunted an inaudible response.
“So, Merry Christmas,” I repeated, trying my best not to make this irreversibly awkward. “How was the party last night?”
“It was…Merry, I suppose,” he replied, “It was more of your mother’s tradition. I don’t know why I keep it. Plus, we’re all getting older, and everyone was out by ten. It was hardly a party; more accurately, an expensive Christmas pot luck,” he snickered.
“Well, you know, you can’t always have everything, Dad. If they would’ve stayed too late, you’d be complaining that you didn’t get any sleep,” I tried to tease, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for that. I don’t know why he thought he would be.
Verbal sparring with my father was like trying to entice a rock.
“Although, I did have an interesting chat with the sheriff,” my father insisted, tugging off his reading glasses and glaring at me.
I felt my face grow white and my stomach churn.
Oh shit.
“Yeah? How’s he doing?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
“Oh, he was fine. Though he asked me if I was happy that my son was done with his community service.
I felt myself swallow hard.
Fuck.
“Oh? He asked you that, did he?”
“Yes, and I had to dance around the fact that I had no idea what the hell he was talking about,” his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed as he glowered at me, hard.
I didn’t respond at first, for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure what to say. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt guilty. Usually, I wouldn’t care what my father had thought, but by the look in his eyes, there was something different than what I normally saw. Instead of disappointment, though, I saw a sadness that bothered me more than I wanted it to.
I grumbled and sighed, shaking my head before responding.
“Yeah, Dad…I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out this way.”
“You mean, that you never intended for me to find out?” my father retorted.
“Yeah. Exactly,” I answered, feeling like a child.
“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
So, I did. I told him the abbreviated story, without leaving out any important details. Instead of goring me with hurtful insults as I spoke, however, my father simply listened. When I was done, was certain that my father was disappointed, but before I could defend myself, he spoke up.
“That’s what the sheriff said, and from the opinion of the sheriff, he believes that you were merely at the wrong place at the wrong time. I know that Garrett can be a little on the wild side. It’s unfortunate that he gets you into these situations…but, that being said, I’m not disappointed that it happened.”
“You’re not?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“No. I’ve had my fair share of fights, and it sounds like you were trying to help your friend. I can’t exactly fault you for that, but I am disappointed that you couldn’t tell me it happened when it did.”
I huffed, knowing that this conversation was going too well.
“What?” my father demanded, sensing my aggravation.
“You’re always disappointed in me,” I huffed, figuring to hell with having a nice moment. I was sick of being told how wrong I was when I was only trying to do what I felt was right, while having some fun in the process. “No matter what I do, or what I don’t do, it is never good enough. There is always something that you are displeased with. I feel like I give you everything I have and it’s never good enough.”
While I was red in the face by this point, my father wasn’t the least bit perturbed. In fact, even after I loudly proclaimed my plight, he didn’t respond right away. The other strange part to my father’s lack of reaction was that he didn’t seem to be the least bit angry.
Even when he did respond, I could sense no anger in his tone.
“Dexter, I’m always proud of you.”
For some reason, I couldn’
t bring myself to believe it.
“Well, Dad, you have a funny way of showing it.”
“Then, I believe I have been successful,” he retorted, though there was no real sense of confrontation in his voice.
I was confused.
“Dexter, I raised you to be a tough, strong, independent man. When you were born, I knew I had a choice; I could give you everything you could ever dream of and make you reliant on myself and your mother, or I could make you self-sufficient. So, I decided that it would be better to be tough on you, even if you ended up hating me, so that you would make something of yourself, instead of simply following in my shadow.”
“All I have done for my entire life is try to please you,” I replied, still angry and feeling stupid for not having this conversation with my father sooner.
“Which is exactly why I always made everything so hard on you,” he replied simply. “If I had pat you on the head and given you a bone every time you did something good, you would either become complacent or rely on me to give you guidance…and I’m not going to be around forever. I needed you to always strive to be better. You had your mother to coddle you. It is my job to teach you to think for yourself.”
“Yeah, well, Mom’s not here anymore, so all I have is you,” I hissed, not entirely meaning for it to sound as harsh as it did.
I realized that I had crossed a line when my father abruptly stopped talking and bowed his head slightly.
Everything was quiet as I contemplated what he had said.
“Dad, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”
“No. You’re right,” my father answered, surprising me. I didn’t answer, so he looked up at me with a serious expression and drew in a deep breath. “Dexter, do you know how much I miss her? Do you realize how much I love her?”
“I know you love her,” I answered, feeling extremely guilty.
“No. I don’t think you fully understand what I mean, Dex,” my father insisted seriously. “She was the reason for everything. She was my whole world and when she died, everything in life that gave me pleasure died with her; save for you, son,” with that, my father grinned in a careful manner, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how I would react to him opening up to me.