Three

by McMan, Ann;

  What? I wasn’t attacking anybody—certainly not this snotty-nosed kid who was wailing like a Banshee.

  “Hold on a minute.” I reached out to try and placate the squalling youngster. Her mother yanked her away from me like I was one of the Lindbergh kidnappers.

  “You keep your hands off my child!” She was screaming now, too. “Help! Security! This man is trying to steal my baby!”

  “What? No. No! That isn’t what I’m—” It was pointless. “Hold on a minute….”

  It was too late. I could see it all unraveling. Of course. It was like a bad reenactment of the worst moments of my life.

  I heard the voice of my inner Elizabeth Bennet. Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion.

  I was toast, and I knew it. Maybe, with luck, I wouldn’t end up in jail this time.

  I looked at Clarissa with trepidation.

  Okay. Maybe some time in jail wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  Over Clarissa’s red head, I could see bigger trouble headed my way. Bigger in the form of an angry linebacker, making a beeline for where we stood.

  It was Butkus, all right. And he was mad as hell.

  “Daaaaaaddddyyyyyy!” Little Ethel was still screaming and now flailing her sinewy arms toward my advancing fate.

  “You!” he bellowed. “What the hell are you doing to my family, you pervert?”

  “I’m not,” I began to explain. Waitadamnminute. Pervert? “Hold on a minute, mister.”

  Butkus shoved me and sent me reeling as easily as if I had been another Styrofoam creation. I lost my footing and went sprawling into a field of Day-Glo candy canes.

  Alvin, Simon and Theodore all gaped at me from behind their high-dollar shades.

  “You didn’t stick the landing,” Simon said.

  Clarissa scrambled over the makeshift fence and knelt beside me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I spat out a mouthful of fake snow.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “Come on,” she started to help me up. “Let’s get back in line.”

  Back in line? Was she suicidal or just crazy?

  “Are you suicidal or just crazy?” I asked.

  “Neither. Come on.” She took hold of my forearms. “Stand up.”

  “Yeah,” Butkus repeated. “Stand up and face me like a man.”

  Clarissa had had just about enough of this manufactured drama. She pursed her lips and confronted Butkus. No more Rita Hayworth. This time, he was getting her best Barbara Stanwyck.

  “She’s not a man. And it’s worth noting that you aren’t comporting yourself like much of one, either.”

  It took Butkus a while to work his way through that one to reach the implied insult. But he managed.

  “Fucking dykes. You’re fucking everyplace. You’re what’s wrong with this country.”

  I saw Clarissa square her shoulders.

  Uh oh. “Clar…no!”

  I scrambled to my feet to try and stop her, but I was too late.

  “You insufferable, cretinous lout. The only affronts to ‘traditional’ family values present here tonight are your unbridled expressions of ignorance, bigotry and bad fashion sense.” Clarissa took a step closer to him. “You and your unsavory ilk are the real crimes against nature.”

  I took hold of her shoulders. They felt like rods of rebar. “Honey,” I began.

  “Fucking queers. Fucking perverts.” Butkus pointed at the boys. “Why does the fucking government let you people adopt kids and drag them out in front of real families at Christmas?”

  “Actually,” Simon lowered his Ray Bans and chimed in. “We’re not adopted—and we’re here under duress.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Shut up, Simon.”

  Mrs. Butkus tsked. “You shouldn’t be allowed to talk to children like that.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Clarissa faced her. “Why don’t you and Cro Magnon man take your precious spawn and retreat to some other bastion of rarified air?”

  Mrs. Butkus just blinked back at her. But Mr. Butkus was swelling with rage.

  “Don’t think I won’t flatten your bitch wiseass just because you’re a woman.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Clarissa thrust out her chin. “You loud-mouthed blowhard.”

  Shit. Dozens of people were now circling us—like turkey buzzards eyeing a fresh kill.

  A couple of overweight mall security guards were making their way over from Chick-fil-A. I noticed that they were still carrying their super-sized drink cups.

  “Clarissa?”

  I could see Butkus sneer and draw back his arm—just like he was getting ready to heave a Hail Mary pass down the field. With all my might, I shoved Clarissa out of the way just as he let it fly.

  It was a textbook right cross, and it nailed me square on the jaw. I collapsed like a house of cards.

  Strangely, before everything went blank, I thought I heard Ethel Merman singing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

  “Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Come on, baby. Wake up.”

  I came to, slowly. Everything around me was still pretty hazy. The only thing I was sure about was that my head was being cradled in a nest of warm cashmere, and the air around me smelled like red violets.

  “What happened?” I croaked.

  “She’s coming to,” a man’s voice said. “Hey, Demonte? She’s waking up.”

  There were bright lights over me. I blinked my eyes to try and adjust them.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  Clarissa stroked my hair. “In the mall. Remember?”

  My face felt like it was on fire. I could barely move my jaw. I raised my hand to touch it and recoiled from the pain.

  “Ow. That really hurts.”

  “I know.” Clarissa took hold of my hand. “You’re lucky it’s not broken.”

  “Can she sit up?” It was the man’s voice again.

  “Can you try to sit up, sweetheart?”

  Clarissa helped me roll up into a semi-erect position. The room was spinning less, and I could begin to make out the contours of gaudy Christmas decorations. Everything came flooding back in a rush.

  “Shit. He slugged me, didn’t he?”

  Clarissa nodded. “You’re going to have one hell of a bruise.”

  I looked around. “Where is he?”

  One of the security guards jerked a thumb toward a nondescript exit. “Back there. Cooling off in our office.”

  “Where are the Blues Brothers?” I asked Clarissa.

  “With Santa. He took pity on us when he found out about the fracas. He let them jump to the head of the line. They’re up there having chicken nuggets and hot chocolate with his elves.”

  “Sheesh.” I cradled my head in both hands. “I feel like death takes a holiday.”

  The larger of the two security guards cleared his throat. “We need to know if you intend to press charges.”

  “Yeah,” the other one added. “Demonte and I hope you don’t, ma’am. Negative publicity like that would be bad for the mall—and we’d probably lose our Christmas bonuses.”

  “Publicity?” I looked at Clarissa with confusion.

  “They think you’ll put it on your show.” She smiled at me. “But I assured them that you wouldn’t do that. Right, Rachel?”

  Oh. Yeah. Right. “No. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Demonte and his colleague let out grateful breaths.

  “That’s great, ma’am. Just great.”

  “We really like your show, too.” Demonte asked. “Can we get you anything?”

  I was about to ask for a couple of number one combos from Chick-fil-A, but for once, Clarissa beat me to the punch.

  “I have a phone number for our Uber.” She handed him a slip of paper. “Would you mind giving him a call and asking him to pick us up at the nearest entrance?”

  “Sure.” Demonte took the pa
per from her. He faced the other guard. “You wanna go get the kids for them?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll meet you all at the exit back there,” he pointed behind them. “Near Cinnabon.”

  “Come on, Rach.” Clarissa helped me stand up. “I think our work here is through. Let’s shake the dust from our feet and go home.”

  It was close to eleven o’clock when we finally got home. Alvin and Teddy both fell asleep in their car seats—still wearing their sunglasses. Simon was alert as ever. The blue glow from his electronic Sudoku game illuminated the interior of the van. I rode most of the way home with my head pressed agains the cold window and watched the snow continue to fall. It was really piling up. Fortunately, most of the traffic had abated. There were only a few sets of tire tracks on the streets once we reached our neighborhood.

  Clarissa parked in front of our house and shut off the engine.

  Christa’s house was dark. I hope that meant she had the evil canine twins tucked snugly into bed with her. It was about time something went my way.

  It was quiet when we climbed out of the van. Peaceful. The night sky looked pink. It was so still I thought I could hear the snow falling.

  Then from somewhere on the night air, a plaintive sound swirled around us. The hypnotic noise grew louder as we approached the house.

  Clarissa was carrying Alvin. She halted and tipped her head toward the sound.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  I shifted Teddy higher in my arms and stopped to listen, too.

  Oh, god.

  “It’s Sadie,” Simon explained. “It means she has to pee.”

  Clarissa and I exchanged glances.

  I took the front steps two at a time and unlocked the door. Sadie came exploding out of the house like she’d been fired from a cannon. She dropped her back end to the ground and scooted around in crazed circles, leaving a dazzling sequence of bright yellow snow loops in her wake. When she finally finished and calmly trotted back up the steps, the front yard looked like it had been vandalized by a psychotic Spirograph.

  I sighed. “I guess they’re home.”

  There was a note taped to the front door. Clarissa pulled it off and opened it.

  “Karl arrived early. They left for North Carolina tonight so they could get ahead of the winter storm.”

  “Winter storm?” I repeated. “What winter storm?”

  “The one that’s rolling up the coast from Georgia,” Simon clarified. “I’ve been watching it all night on Weather Underground. It’s due to the strong El Niño this year.”

  Right. Check. Of course. How could it be otherwise?

  Clarissa smiled at me. “Buck up, baby. Let’s make the best of it, okay?”

  “Okay.” It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. And right then, all I wanted was to pack my aching jaw in ice and sleep for about nine years.

  Once we were inside, Clarissa suggested we carry the still sleeping Alvin and Teddy straight upstairs. She got no argument from me. Together we undressed the boys and got them into their jammies. They protested when we took their sunglasses, however, and we had to promise them that they could have them back in the morning. Once they were tucked in, I faced Simon.

  “You, too, bucko.”

  Simon was having none of it. “I want to watch Colbert.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You didn’t do Teddy’s ear drops,” he pointed out.

  “Nice try. Get into your jammies. Now.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Don’t blame me when his ear slime eats through the mattress.”

  That caught Clarissa’s interest. “Diz?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get ’em.” I grabbed Simon by the collar of his shirt. “Come on, Einstein. You’ve got a date with a toothbrush.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Clarissa waved and left the guestroom.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” I called out. “Warm up the Remy.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that.” Simon was taking off his pants. “It’s risky to drink alcohol when you might have a concussion.”

  I handed him his pajamas. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “Sheila.”

  His mom—of course. He’d probably picked it up from all the times she clobbered Marty.

  “You’re just a font of information, you know that?”

  He finished brushing his teeth and got into his pajamas.

  “I’d like to get up at six.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I replied. “I’d like to sleep until Tuesday. Wanna flip for it?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  We walked back into the bedroom. I held up the covers so he could climb into the big bed beside to his brothers.

  “Do you want to help me get this stuff into Teddy’s ears?”

  “Not really.”

  He folded his Ray Bans and laid them on the nightstand.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “Dude?” I began. “It hasn’t been a great night for me. Your dad got sick at work and heaved his guts out all over the car. I took you and your brothers to see Santa Claus on the busiest night of the year, and I ended up getting my clock cleaned by a gorilla in a purple sweatshirt. There’s a blizzard brewing outside and it’s likely that the five of us are going to be stuck inside this house with two psychotic dogs until the spring thaw. So unless you want to end up with a starring role in a remake of The Donner Party, I suggest you stow the attitude and start acting a little more like a team player.”

  He thought it over.

  “I’ll hold his head and you put ’em in.”

  Finally.

  Teddy didn’t fight us. Much. Let’s just say that even in a sleep state, he kicked like a donkey and narrowly missed turning his brother into a soprano.

  Soon I had them all settled down, and walked across the room to turn out the light.

  “Sweet dreams, guys.”

  All I got in response were three sets of soft snores.

  I walked past our bedroom on my way downstairs and noticed that Sadie and Maris were on our bed, snuggled together on our pillows.

  Great.

  I was halfway to the stairs before it registered with me that Maris had been wearing a sleep mask. I didn’t even want to think about how that happened.

  When I reached the living room, I noticed that the front door was standing open. And there was a huge tower of boxes piled up behind the sofa.

  Clarissa came back inside and kicked the door closed behind her. Her hair was salted with snow and her arms were loaded with more boxes and a big, bulging bag of wrapping paper.

  “What the hell is all of this?”

  “What does it look like?” She set the boxes down on a table. “They’re presents. For the kids.”

  Presents?

  Oh, shit. Their presents. From Santa. Marty told me we’d have to wrap them all.

  “What the hell did he do? Buy out Walmart?”

  “I have no idea. But if we want to get all of this done before morning, we’d better get started.”

  I sagged onto a chair arm. “I don’t have it in me, honey. Can’t we just go to bed?”

  I didn’t bother to remind her that it was obvious we wouldn’t be getting married tonight—or any night in the near future.

  Clarissa walked over to where I slouched in misery and knelt before me.

  “I know this isn’t what we planned.” Her voice was soft and low. “But, sweetheart? As trying as this all is, it’s Christmas. They’re kids and they don’t have any choice in the matter. They can’t be with their parents, so it’s up to us to make the experience as special for them as possible.” She laid a soft hand on the side of my face—the side that wasn’t swollen to twice its normal size. “You and I will have the rest of our lives together. This is just one night.”

  I folded like a cheap suit.

  “One night?”

  She nodded.

  “You promise?”

  She nodded again.

 
I smiled. I was starting to feel a little like a kid myself. I bent toward her.

  “You really wanna be with me forever?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Most of the time.”

  I kissed her. It was wonderful. Just like kissing her always was.

  We got a little more intent on the exercise. It was all going great except for the part that felt like someone was jabbing my face with a hot poker. Then it happened.

  Tears stung my eyes. I pulled back reluctantly.

  Clarissa thought I was crying. “Oh, honey. It’s okay.”

  “No,” I explained. “I’m not upthet. My faith hurth.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Your what hurts?”

  “My faith.” I pointed at it.

  “Diz?”

  “Oh, thit.”

  Clarissa giggled.

  “Thop it.”

  “What happened?”

  I raised a hand to my face. “I bith my tongue.”

  Clarissa gave up trying not to laugh. She threw back her red head and just about bayed herself right out of her sweater. Even though I tried hard to be annoyed, I couldn’t quite pull it off—not when so much unbridled magnificence was on display before me.

  I gave her a sheepish smile and reached out to pull her closer.

  “Wanna meth around?”

  “Yes,” she said. She was still chuckling. “Absolutely. You bet. Right after we wrap all those presents.”

  My shoulders sagged.

  “Come on.” She gave me a playful nudge. “I’ll make us something to drink and you can turn on the Christmas tree and play that horrible music you love so much.”

  Horrible music? My face lit up.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Vinnie Zimmerman, or whatever his name is. That abominable lounge lizard music.”

  “Thummo,” I said.

  “Pardon me?”

  I sighed. “Hith name. Ith Thummo, not Thimmerman.”

  She patted my knee. “Of course it is, sweetheart.”

  She stood up and headed for the kitchen.

  I sighed and decided I was better off simply to embrace my fate.

  I plugged in the tree lights and got Vinnie spooled up. As soon as those retro Bossa Nova tones of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” started filling the room, I felt a lot better. The cool blue lights on the Christmas tree helped, too. They caused the dozens of tiny raven and cardinal ornaments to glow like they were internally illuminated.