by Gray, Meg
“Yes,” he told her and then the alarm on his cell phone buzzed. “I’ve got to go pick up Brayden now. If you have any other question just ask Dennis or call my cell.”
“Okay,” she said, obviously irritated.
Marcus knew he favored Dennis who started at the firm a year after Abigail, but the man caught on quickly, needed less reassurance, and didn’t resemble Vanessa in the slightest. It was unfair, but he couldn’t help it.
“Well, Happy Holidays,” she added, shaking away her irritation. “Have a wonderful vacation. I’ll see you next year.”
“Yes, Happy Holidays,” he grumbled as she left his office. Marcus closed down his computer and gathered his briefcase. His holiday would be far from happy, bearable if he was lucky, and this jaunt to Seattle would never qualify as a vacation.
Christmas lights wrapped the lampposts downtown and twinkled in the store windows catching Marcus’s eye as he drove to the school—more reminders that the year was ending. He had survived another year without Vanessa, in this new and unimagined life. It pained him to visit Seattle for the holidays. In the past, he’d kept his visits short, arriving on Christmas Eve and leaving the day after Christmas. This year was different. His grandfather’s eighty-fifth birthday, being celebrated tomorrow night, and the 50th Anniversary Party for Lewis and Sons Law Firm on January 2nd had roped him into a full two week stay at his parents’ house on Mercer Island.
The school building, which was usually a ghost town by this hour of the day, was aglow with blazing lights in many of the first floor windows. Parked cars lined both sides of the street and Marcus was surprised to see someone in the school’s office when he walked inside.
Brayden sat on a bench outside the gymnasium with the after-school program teacher, waiting to be picked up.
“Ready to go, Bray?” he asked, ignoring the college girl next to him.
Brayden slid from the bench, dragging his backpack.
“Bye Brayden. Have fun at the Winter Concert tonight. I know you’ll do great,” the girl called behind them.
Brayden turned but didn’t wave or smile at the girl.
Winter Concert? What Winter Concert? Marcus tried to recall any mention of a Winter Concert and then he saw the big green poster by the door. Tonight was the winter concert and it started at 6:30. He must have walked past this sign every day this week when he picked up Brayden. How had he not noticed it? The little asterisk at the bottom said all students should be in their classrooms by 6:15, which Marcus realized glancing at his watch, was right now. No wonder the school was buzzing with people. Marcus made a quick U-turn and Brayden followed still dragging his backpack. They were almost to the classroom door when his cell phone rang.
Marcus took the call, waving Brayden into his classroom and then walked back to the gymnasium. He kept the conversation short and hung up as he took a seat in a wooden folding chair along the far aisle. In his hands, he held the green folded paper a ten-year old handed him at the door. On the first page, he found his son’s name when his phone rang again.
Not surprisingly, it was Abigail. Marcus answered, pressing his free hand against his other ear, straining to hear her as the chaotic mess of voices echoed through the gymnasium. He stood and hurried out a double set of metal doors. The air outside was crisp and cool, his breath immediately fogged as he spoke into the phone. He dropped his chin to his chest, trying to avoid the cold stings of the icy rain. He cut the call short, instructed Abigail not to call for the next hour, and returned to the gymnasium.
The kindergartners were already taking their place on stage and Marcus’s aisle seat was occupied. He walked around to the back, turning his cell phone off before stuffing it into his pocket, just in case Abigail forgot how to read the hands on a clock.
There was a seat in the last row and Marcus took it. He looked up to see Brayden watching him, through sharp blue eyes. Brayden’s round cheeks and fair complexion were instant reminders of his mother. Marcus looked away, as he often did, when the resemblance struck a painful chord inside of him.
The pianist played the first notes of Deck the Halls and the children’s voices joined in.
The audience applauded loudly after each song. When the kindergartners finished they stepped off the risers and followed their teachers to the side of the gymnasium, where they watched the rest of the concert.
Marcus’s eyes fell on Ms. Hewitt who sat at the end of her two rows of students as the first graders performed a song about wandering snowflakes. Two girls halfway down the first row squirmed and giggled but with one quick look from their teacher, they quieted.
For the final performance, all the children gathered bells in their hands and shook them with fervor as they sang Jingle Bells.
A woman who identified herself as Deborah Wolf, the principal, began a series of announcements as the students filed out of the gymnasium and back to their classrooms. Marcus only half-listened as the woman with the drawn cheeks, pointed nose and ashen gray hair talked about the New Year and the schedule for upcoming events. Once she gave the command
everyone was waiting for, the gymnasium doors opened like the spillways of a dam and families poured outside and into the hallways in search of their performers.
Marcus took his time exiting the gym, in no hurry to fight the crowds swarming in the halls. Up ahead of him he saw two familiar figures. They turned into Ms. Hewitt’s classroom and he heard the unmistakable voice of the woman he’d seen in his office building, “Oh, Emma they were just darling.”
Marcus stood outside the door and heard Ms. Hewitt reply, “Thanks, Stace. I have a few more kids to dismiss and then I’ll be ready to go.”
“No problem,” her friend said and grabbed the arm of the man she’d walked in with, Ms. Hewitt’s roommate. “We’ll wait in the hall. Too many little people in here for me.” She clicked her way out into the hall in her shiny red heels, a sour expression on her face as if the presence of children made her queasy.
The roommate—Seth was it?—let the woman drag him out the door and gave Marcus a curt nod of recognition as they passed.
Brayden sat hunched over a table on the opposite wall, his back to the door. Ms. Hewitt caught Marcus’s eye and walked toward Brayden.
“Good bye Mallory. Good bye Stella,” she called as two girls left with their mothers.
Brayden pulled the headphones off his head when Ms. Hewitt tapped his shoulder. “Your dad is here,” she told him. Brayden turned to look at him and then back around.
Great, Brayden looked to be in one of his moods and Marcus was short on patience at the moment. A vision of him carrying his son out of the building red-faced and yelling flashed in his mind. Marcus rubbed at the pain building behind his eyes.
“Good bye Mizz Hoo-it,” a little boy said, walking out of the classroom with his father.
“Good bye, Carl.” She waved and then bent down next to Brayden. He was the only child left in the room. “It’s time to go, Brayden,” she said, her voice as sweet as honey.
“I don’t want to,” Brayden said, dropping the book and headphones down on the table. He slumped back in the chair and crossed his arms. Marcus was ready to jump in and reprimand his son before Ms. Hewitt could, but she surprised him by not reacting at all. She simply turned, picked up a puzzle from the next table and returned it to the shelf.
Marcus rubbed his hand over his brow again, getting ready to drag Brayden out, when Ms. Hewitt spoke again.
She was kneeling next to Brayden now, “You need to go home and get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“He won’t be here tomorrow,” Marcus cut in and Brayden’s sharp gaze locked on him.
“Excuse me?” Ms. Hewitt asked as she stood, her face looking as confused as Brayden’s.
“We’re leaving for Seattle in the morning. For the holidays,” Marcus explained.
“Oh right,” Ms. Hewitt said. “Brayden mentioned going to his grandparents. Is this the grandpa with the horse and the barn?”
&
nbsp; Brayden was turned in his chair, watching the two of them talk.
“Uh, no. His grandparents do not have a horse or a barn.” Why would Brayden say that? He couldn’t be thinking about the race horses Vanessa’s father owned a while back. He was an infant when they went to see them at the stables in Olympia—there was no way he could remember that, was there? No, no way he’d remember that, he must have been lying again.
“I’m sorry he lied to you Ms. Hewitt. Please rest assured I will handle this at home. There is no tolerance for lying in our family.” Marcus’s voice was stern and he saw Brayden look to his teacher.
Ms. Hewitt stepped in front of Brayden and fixed her eyes on him. Her face was serious, but her voice remained light. “At this age Mr. Lewis, it’s called imagination. Brayden has a wonderful and vivid imagination. I don’t think his story was intended to do anything more than entertain.” She turned back to Brayden, smiling. “And I really enjoyed the picture you drew today and the story you told me about the farm. It was great.” She laid a gentle hand on Brayden’s shoulder and returned her gaze to his as if asking if he understood what she was saying. Marcus nodded ever so slightly and then looked at Brayden who also seemed to have relaxed.
“C’mon Brayden. We need to get going. Ms. Hewitt has friends waiting for her and we need to let her get on with her evening.”
Brayden showed no signs of movement and as Marcus prepared to dive in and retrieve his son Ms. Hewitt struck again.
“Brayden, I’m so disappointed you won’t be here tomorrow, but I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time in Seattle. It’ll be so exciting to visit your grandparents and I can’t wait to hear about it when you come back to school. Right now, it’s time to get your coat. While you put it on I’ll get your stocking down and I have a special present for you to take with you too.”
Miraculously Brayden got to his feet, moved to his coat locker, and pulled on his coat. Ms. Hewitt walked up to Marcus and handed over a lunch-size paper bag with a glitter-covered stocking stapled to the front. “This is Brayden’s stocking. The other children and some of the staff have been filling it all week with little surprises for each other.”
Marcus opened his mouth, but Ms. Hewitt cut him off sensing what he was about to say.
“There are notes in his backpack about the activity. I’ve been sending them home for a couple of weeks.” How had she known he was going to say he didn’t know anything about needing to bring presents in for the other kids?
Brayden appeared next to him, coat and backpack on. Ms. Hewitt pulled a small square package from the cabinet behind her desk, wrapped in blue snowflake paper. Brayden’s eyes twinkled as she approached and handed the gift to Marcus.
“Now you can open this when your dad says it’s okay,” she told Brayden and he nodded. “Merry Christmas,” she said smiling at both of them.
“Thank you,” Marcus responded. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
Marcus followed Brayden to the door.
“Hey Dad,” Brayden said as the two of them reached the threshold. “Did you know Ms. Hewitt grew up on a farm and she’s going there for Christmas?”
Marcus stopped and turned to look back at Ms. Hewitt who was pulling on her black wool coat. “No I didn’t,” he said and she smiled at them as they walked out the door.
Chapter Nine
Emma knew Stacy’s appearance at her kindergartners’ winter concert was going to be called on as a favor at some point—she just hadn’t anticipated it so soon. Stacy was on the phone in crisis mode on Saturday morning, Emma’s first official day of Winter Vacation.
“Slow down, Stacy. I can’t understand a word you’re saying. What test?”
“I had an STD test this week. And I didn’t want to say anything and ruin your little show with your munchkins. It’s probably nothing, but I was just reading on Brad’s Facebook page that Ella said Michael had some rash. I didn’t think much of it until I heard Carol, from my office, tell Amy that she heard Marcia had the clap and I’m pretty sure she hooked up with Michael before I did and well, I don’t know, I just thought I should get tested.”
“Okay,” Emma replied, her mind trying to catch up with the words Stacy had fired off. “So, what did the test say?”
“I don’t know, Em,” she whined. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I have the results right here in front of me, but I can’t open them. I need you to do it. Please, please, please, can you come and do this for me.”
Emma rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time Stacy begged for a hand to hold or pleaded for a midnight run to the drugstore for a pregnancy test because she was two days late. Each time, Emma hoped the stress and anxiety of her promiscuity would prompt Stacy to change her ways, but every time she seemed to get a pass.
Who was Michael anyway? Or Brad or Ella or Marcia? Emma had no connection to these people, but that didn’t matter right now.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Emma reassured her friend. “Just open the envelope. I’m right here on the phone with you. It will be fine. You used a condom right?”
“Well, not at first. I don’t think. Maybe it was Jack that…”
“Okay, okay,” Emma said, cutting her friend off. She walked out to the living room. “Just open it,” she said as she sat on the couch next to Seth who was clicking through his latest batch of pictures from California on his laptop.
“I can’t. I need you Em. C’mon, remember how I went to that little sing-songy thing of yours, please, please, please. Pretty, pretty please.”
Seth grinned at Emma sympathetically. He’d been on the receiving end of these phone calls before too.
“Fine,” Emma said, realizing if she repaid this so-called favor now she wouldn’t have it looming over her later. “I’ll meet you at your place.”
“I like that one,” she mouthed to Seth and pointed to the snapshot of him and Kelly on the beach. The California sun set behind them and the ocean waves paused in a lazy curl. Their arms were draped over each other’s shoulders and their faces reflected sheer happiness.
“Me too,” he whispered, smiling at the screen and clicked to the next picture.
“Yay.” Stacy was squealing. “But meet me at the office. I’ve got to show a client a condo a couple of blocks over. He’s going to hate it, so I’ll be back pretty quick. Let’s say one hour my office and then you can read my email for me.”
“Wait?” Emma snapped her attention away from Seth’s computer. “You had your results emailed to you at work?”
“Yeah, so?”
“You know your company can track what you do on their network, right?”
“Oh really Emma like anyone ever does that. See you in an hour.”
“Yeah, sure,” Emma agreed and hung up.
“So what are we dealing with this time? Pregnancy or STD?” Seth asked.
“Possible gonorrhea,” Emma answered.
“Oooh,” he winced and closed his laptop. “C’mon, I’ll drive you. I’ve got to go downtown anyway.”
* * *
An hour later Emma and Seth, still boasting about the amazing parking space he found right out front, walked into the lobby of Stacy’s office building. Before the tall glass door closed behind them, it was yanked open again and a woman charged in, with an iciness as cold as the gust of air that followed. She brushed past them, her briefcase swinging recklessly out of one hand and a venti-size Starbucks cup in the other. She was dressed in a black velour sweat suit and her white tennis shoes squeaked as she bolted to the elevators. She was shouting into the hands free receiver of her cell phone, tucked inconspicuously into her right ear.
Emma and Seth, sobered by the entrance of the other woman, quietly followed her to the elevators and waited.
“Yes Dennis, I know we are supposed to be taking vacation time this week,” the woman shouted and stabbed the elevator button repeatedly. “I had to cancel my holiday mani-pedi to come down here.”
She paused and Emma looked at the woman’s fingern
ails pressing the elevator button again. When she let go and stepped back Emma recognized her from the elevator last month. She’d gotten on with Mr. Lewis and the other man.
“I’m on my way up to the office now to fax over the documents I have. If you know what’s good for you you’ll get your ass down here and help me. He needs your files too.”
Another pause.
“You don’t think I tried to explain that. We’re up against a deadline and apparently one of us has screwed up. And it’s my head the asshole bit off this morning. Look, I’m just trying to do what Marcus asked.”
Marcus, Emma’s ears perked. This woman was talking about Mr. Lewis.
The elevator arrived.
“See you in twenty,” the woman barked into the phone before disconnecting the call.
The doors opened and Emma and Seth quietly stepped in behind the nettled woman, keeping their distance. The woman’s hackles began to droop as she sipped from her cup and then Emma saw her catch a glimpse of Seth and watched as her eyes traveled the length of him. Seth, completely unaware, read an advertisement posted on the wall about the upcoming performances at Keller Auditorium.
The woman checked her watch and the aggravation that had been corroding her inside returned. Emma sympathized with the woman. From her own experience, she could imagine exactly how the woman felt.
She thought of Brayden. At least right now, he was with his grandparents. Hopefully, able to escape his father’s tyranny and bask in the glow of his grandparents’ love and affection.
At the twelfth floor, Emma and Seth stepped off the elevator, leaving the toxic air of bitterness behind. They walked through the doors of Portland City Real Estate, where a few people worked quietly. Seth and Emma showed themselves into Stacy’s office and sat down in the plum colored chairs to wait.
Seth’s cell phone rang almost immediately and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“It’s Kelly,” he said as he stood and walked out to the hall to answer it.
Emma crossed her legs and waited. She could see Seth through the open door leaning casually against the wall. I should have brought a book or crossword, Emma thought after a few minutes. Looking down at her uneven, misshapen nails she considered getting herself a holiday manicure, like the woman from the elevator, but then she remembered the balance of her bank account, the Christmas gift charges she incurred this month, and changed her mind.