by Amy Piers
“Wanna go on the slide now?” I ask.
“OK,” him says. “But what if I get drowned in the pool?”
“It’s OK, because I know how to save you this time,” I say.
“But what about the ouchy grass?” he wonders.
“It’s OK, because I will carry you,” I say. “I gotted very strong since you’ve been gone.”
I flex my muscles for Grey and he’s like, “Wow!”
“But where’s Mom?” Grey says. “I never see her anymore.”
“She’s living at a different place; she never moved to this good house. She has a little baby who is only cool sometimes,” I explain. “The baby is half of our sister, and the other half belongs to her dad, Jacob, and him isn’t nice. Anyway, we don’t have any mom or a sister anymore, but it’s OK because I will do all the things you need.”
“Let’s go on the slide now,” Grey says. He doesn’t care about having no Mom. Neither do I. Also I don’t tell him that Zoe’s gone missing, I don’t want to worry him. We only have a little while to play, so I will make it a good time by not telling him those kinds of things.
“Dallas?” Dr. Martinez says. I close my eyes tight and pull my hood over my face. He needs to quit interrupting my play date with Grey.
“Dallas—” he says again, with his hand on my shoulder. I put my fingers in my ears and say BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH super loudly until he stops talking to me.
#
The sun is down, and I say goodbye to Grey, “See you tomorrow, brother. You’re my bestest friend.”
“You’re my bestest, too,” Grey says, then he flies to heaven. I look at the sky for a bit, wishing we could just live on the same planet for once. I wish him had a phone, so I could send him texts and photos of the things I do without him. I take off my hood and open my eyes to see Alicia sitting in the beanbag across from me, reading a magazine. Ugh, Grey doesn’t need a photo of this boring place.
“You’re back!” Alicia says. I make my eyes little at her, so she knows I am not interested in talking.
“I was just reading something I think you’d be into,” she lies. “Did you know sharks have the most powerful jaws on the planet?”
I shake my head.
“Each kind of shark has a different shaped tooth depending on their diet—did you know that?” she adds.
I shake my head again.
“You should come take a look at the pictures.”
I think for a minute about whether or not I want to listen to Alicia. I put my hands in my pocket and feel the smooth and rough parts of the acorn. I wish it was an oak, but it hasn’t been broken yet. I can stop listening to Alicia and stay like the acorn, or I can listen to her and become an oak. I want to be big, I want to be strong, I want to live for hundreds of years… so I sit beside her.
“See this picture?” Alicia says. “It says that sharks never run out of teeth. They’ll always grow as many as they need.”
I nod my head and sit even closer to Alicia. I wonder if I can rest my head on her arm for a minute, kind of like how I used to hug Zoe before I let her use her arms. I miss hugs; I miss hearing someone else’s heart beat. I spended my whole day with Grey, and his heart doesn’t have any sound. I want to hear what alive sounds like, in the chest of someone actually alive. I put my hand on my own chest, to see if I still have a heartbeat. It’s lazy, but it’s still there. Even though I am alive, I sure feel pretty dead.
[I see you.]
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve Eve, or at least that’s what my family has always called December 23rd. Ezra, Julia, Cinnamon, and I will leave for Santa Cruz bright and early in the morning—in my car—not Carlton. It’s times like these that I am thankful to be dating a guy whose parents live a few blocks from mine, making holiday planning a breeze. With all this easy, breezy holiday planning, I hardly have time to consider the gargantuan knot in my stomach. I sprout a few new gray hairs as my body protests the impending visit to Starlight. I’m grateful for the Christmas distraction between now and then, focused on my time with family, instead of facing the fear of the unknown.
I’m leaving in two days, away until January third. There’s so much to organize, so for now, I will make lists. Lists are my happy place, lists are my sanity. I can control how many pairs of undies I pack in my suitcase, but I can not control what will happen on the day I wear my favorite pair. For someone who was a Behavior Specialist for four tumultuous years, I sure like to be in control.
Perhaps I’m making up for lost time.
[I see red.]
Today is the forty-seventh day that I have lived at Starlight, and I have talked to Zoe zero of these days. Today also means there’s only three sleeps until Christmas Day. I know a few things about Christmas, and also a few lies about Christmas. Here is the truth: Christmas was invented because Jesus got borned, and He’s so important because He’s also God. Here’s the lie: Santa. A long, long time ago there was a guy who looked like him, but if you go to the North Pole, I bet you any money you won’t find a workshop with elves making toys. If you do, them are actors who go home at night to their wives and kids. Elfs aren’t true. Also, why do the Santa elfs only make toys made of wood, when really all the kids get video games and bikes under the Christmas tree? Adults shouldn’t lie to kids, but them do.
Zoe said I can’t tell any kids about Santa being fake, but once I did tell Caroline at my old school. She stomped her foot and told me my pants were on fire. I told her that the only person with their pants on fire was her stupid mom. Then I got sent to time out for being naughty at school on my first day, and that means I’d be on Santa’s naughty list too. I don’t care a teeny bit. I’ll be on a stupid fake list every day, and I’ll be happy having a piece of coal for Christmas because presents are stupid. Caroline is always making my life worser.
Alicia and I take a walk out to see the horses at the ranch. There are two in the first stable; one called Arrow, and the other is called Lester. I like being in a stable at Christmas time because it makes me remember how Jesus got born. Arrow walks over to me, and I feed him a fat carrot which I brought in my bag with a few other vegetables like apples, which are actually fruits. He licks my hand, and I laugh so much that snot comes out of my nose. Lester is shy, he barely notices I’m here. He isn’t hungry, so Arrow eats all the horse food. I climb up on a gate, and Alicia quickly puts her hand on my shoulders.
“You can’t go in there,” she says.
“I know,” I tell her. “I’m just looking for the manger.”
“What do you mean?”
“The thing what animals eat food from, except on Christmas there’s a baby Jesus.”
Alicia smiles, “I don’t think they exist anymore, but we can make one if you like?”
“Not like cardboard and sticky tape. Not like that. Them are made of wood,” I correct her, waving my hand in her face.
“I know,” she explains. “We have wood, nails, and hammers.”
“Awesome!” I yell. “Where? Where are they?”
“We can’t start yet. We have to make a plan before we start.”
“This is like Project Time. Zoe—um… my old teacher, just this girl I used to know—her and me used to do projects with plans first.”
“We don’t have any paper or pens out here, so let’s head back inside and grab what we need.”
I wonder, “Can I start building today if I get the plan done?”
“Sure!” she smiles. I don’t know why, because I didn’t tell myself to do this, but I just hugged Alicia. She put her arms around me too, and I heard it! I really heard it!
Her heart sounds like boom boom, boom boom, boom boom. I am too embarrassed, so I let go after three beats and pretend it never happened. We go inside to get pens and papers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tidings of Comfort and Joy
[I see you.]
I wake up to the sound of small rocks being thrown at my childhood bedroom window, and suddenly I feel like I’m a lovestruck teenager in
an old Hollywood movie. Ezra rode over to my parents house, from his, on the same bike I remember him owning as a nerdy tween. It’s delightfully 90s, like most things at our parents’ houses—shrines to the best years of their lives, without them even realizing. I slide open the window to see him grinning from ear to ear, with a present in his hands. Cinnamon barks a couple of times, and I tell Ezra I’ll come downstairs. I throw on a bra and furiously chew a stick of gum, to make myself marginally more presentable. Well, as presentable as one can be in an old t-shirt and a pair of satin boxer shorts with cartoon characters all over them. If Ezra wanted to see me all dolled up, he should’ve given me more than five seconds notice of his arrival.
“Good morning, babe,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “It’s 6 am.”
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” he comically and quietly yells, so not to wake my parents. Cinnamon has the honor instead, racing downstairs barking at the volume of a screaming toddler. He dances at the sight of Ezra, who swiftly picks him up. I can’t help but laugh at the tiny dog and his licky tongue attacking the bearded face of my boyfriend. I can hardly believe I have a boyfriend on Christmas Day—this is already the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I join the embrace, as Cinnamon decides whose face to lick first.
My parents come downstairs, enthusiastically welcoming Ezra inside before brewing a pot of holiday-flavored coffee. The house smells like cinnamon, cloves, and black peppercorns, mixed with the undeniable scent of pine from the Christmas tree. Mom and Dad are making breakfast together, as they have done every year that I can remember. I am inspired by their teamwork skills, navigating their way around the kitchen like a well-oiled machine (thirty years of marriage looks good on them). They’re making grilled leg ham, eggs, tomatoes, and croissants for four this year, for the first time in a long time. My parents always wanted more kids, but it wasn’t what life had in store. They used to say they had me and stopped, because I was perfect—but I knew the toll infertility took on their lives. They always dreamed of having three kids, but it wasn’t meant to be. Since their extended families live on the East Coast, holidays are often a small affair on the years between family gatherings. Julia became the sister I always wished I had, which makes it harder to admit that we’re naturally drifting apart.
Our family might be small, but it’s the only one we’ve got. I hope it’s enough for Ezra.
[I see red.]
Merry Stupid Christmas.
For Christmas, I got ignored by Zoe for fifty-one stupid days. And you want to know the stupider part? Alicia isn’t even here today, because she’s having Christmas with her family. You know who I’m having Christmas with? People I have barely ever seen before. There’s only three kids in this whole house who are still here for Christmas, all the other fifty-seven kids went to their parents’ houses. Them are the worst kids in the whole wide house; the kind who hit, the kind who poop in their pants, and scream swear words. They’re the kind of kids like me, which I know because nobody came to get me. Nobody took me to their home. I think that Santa’s naughty list might actually be real and the consequence is worse than coal. I have no family because I’m bad—they gived up on me, even Alicia gived up on me. We haven’t even finished making the manger for the baby Jesus. Where will he sleep tonight when he’s borned?
“Merry Christmas, Dallas!” says a lady I don’t even know. “Come and have breakfast with us!”
I follow her to a room, not because I want to, but because I’m hungry. She serves me a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. I eat the bacon first, because it has the most protein. Alicia telled me about protein. Then I eat the eggs, because eggs also have protein. I think about Alicia telling me that I can either get a food tube in my nose or eat protein, and I gobble up my meal so quickly. My ribs don’t look like a guitar anymore, and my muscles are growing bigger every single day. I don’t need no stupid food tube anymore. I feel brave eating breakfast with these kids. I feel brave sitting next to grown ups I’ve never seen before. I wonder what Alicia is eating for breakfast? She usually eats oatmeal. I hate oatmeal, but Alicia always says, “Don’t yuck my yum.”
That’s how she talks. Also, I don’t miss her or anything. She can do whatever stupid things she wants to do on Christmas. Doesn’t matter to me.
[I see you.]
Ezra latches a necklace around my neck. I move my hair so it won’t get stuck.
“It’s beautiful,” I smile.
“I thought it might help you be brave when you go to Wyoming,” he reassures, quite literally, as I look at the pendant. It’s an arrow with the word BRAVE emblazoned in rustic silver. My stomach churns as I think about the reason for which I will need to be brave, and I’m simultaneously amazed that Ezra gave such a thoughtful gift (maybe Julia helped him). I kiss him on the cheek and rest my head on his shoulder. What I wouldn’t give to feel at home within my own heart again; what I wouldn’t do to give the whole thing to Ezra. In my mind’s eye, I see Dallas reach into my chest and extract my heart, grinning as he realizes he owns my ass. I’m enraged. That asshole doesn’t deserve forgiveness.
I hand Ezra a gift, too.
“Jeans,” he says, matter-of-factly, and kisses me on the head. “Thank you.”
Ezra doesn’t like gifts. He thinks presents are moot; anything he might want, he can buy himself. This puts me in a weird position, come Christmas time, when I realize there’s nothing on Earth I could buy that he might like. So I decided to buy him the exact same jeans he’s wearing—I have it on good authority that he likes those—considering he wears the same type every day. Sooner or later a pair will wear out, and on that day I will have saved him an errand. In Ezra’s mind, this is as romantic as the BRAVE necklace. Also, he’s adorable.
We sit at the breakfast table with my parents, who can’t keep the smiles off their faces.
“Ezra,” Mom beams, “We’re just so excited that you’re part of the family this year.”
“Jeez, Mom, we aren’t married!” I snap. Ezra turns beet red.
“Yet,” he adds. Everyone laughs, except for me. Now it’s my turn to transition to a shade of bright magenta. Whose idea was it to bring my boyfriend to Christmas with my family? Oh, it was mine…
[I see red.]
“Merry Christmas from all of us here at Starlight, Dallas!” a lady who works here says, as she hands me a present. She looks like my old teacher Mrs. Chao. I rip open the paper, and there’s a red plastic watch inside. I look at my arm, and I see my dog watch. I put the red one down on the table; I don’t need another watch.
“Thank you,” I say, because I am learning to be an oak instead of an acorn. She sits next to me.
“My name’s Jen. We met last week at Dylan’s little birthday party—remember?”
I nod my head, but I’m not really sure if I am telling the truth.
“I work with Dylan, like Alicia works with you,” Jen says. I nod my head. “You look kind of upset today.”
I nod my head again.
“I wonder if you’re missing your family?” Jen asks, and I nod my head. “I bet they’re missing you, too.”
“Why they didn’t bring me home for Christmas?” I grumble.
Jen looks at me, then looks at the table. “To be honest, Dallas, I don’t know. It’s not really my place to say. But regardless, you are loved.”
I roll my eyes, “Yeah. Right! Who loves me?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Jen says, throwing the question back in my face. “Who loves you?”
I think… who does love me? I thought Mommy loved me. I thought Zoe loved me. I think even Alicia loved me a little teeny tiny bit. I don’t know what to tell Jen, so I tell her nothing. Big fat nothing.
“Is there anything you’d like to do today?” she asks.
“Yep,” I say. “I want to finish building the manger. Me and Alicia started it, but I want to finish it because it’s Christmas and baby Jesus needs a place to sleep.”
“Do you know where all the materials are?” Jen checks.
�
��Yeah, but I need you to take me to see Arrow and Lester. That’s where the manger project is,” I explain. Jen gets up and asks her boss if it’s OK to go out to the horse stable, because it’s super far away and also it’s snowing outside. In San Francisco we never, ever got snow. Jen talks for a bit and I watch her, hoping to see her face look happy, because that’s how I will know if we can go to the stables or not. She smiles and walks back over towards the table.
“Let’s go!” she says. I smile, too, for the first time all day long. This isn’t the Christmas miracle I was hoping for, but it’s still a good kind of thing to be happening. I’m still on the naughty list, but maybe I’m one of the better naughty kids. It’s for Jesus and Santa to decide.
We put on a hundred pieces of clothes (ski pants, huge furry socks, special boots that used to belong to a different kid, an itchy sweater, gloves, a beanie; those kinds of things) and open the door to outside. The air tastes like a popsicle that’s just water flavored, and we walk a long way to the horse stables. My feet are sinking in the snow, all the way up to my knees. I pretend I’m in quicksand, and Jen joins in with my game that I invented. Also, Jen is pretty fun.
At the stable, I say hello to Arrow because him is my favorite horse. He breathes out fast and the air looks like smoke from a dragon. I pretend he’s a dragon, and I pretend that I can ride him into the sky and see Grey for Christmas. Grey’s feet wouldn’t hurt if he walked in the snow, because heaven kids can handle snow because that’s how the floor looks in heaven.
“Where’s the manger?” Jen asks. I take her to the pile of wood and show her the clipboard that’s hanging on the wall from a rusty nail.