by Nella Tyler
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.
“Thanks, Dad,” I grinned, feeling both guilty and extremely happy at the same time.
“Now that you know how I truly feel, I hope that one day, you and I can come to our own understanding of the love that you and your mother had. I know we’ve never quite seen eye to eye, Dexter, but I am getting to an age where I don’t want that to stop me from sharing what’s important with you.”
I was quiet for a moment as I took in everything my father was saying to me.
“That sounds great, Dad. I’d like that,” I finally answered earnestly. “You know,” I added after another few moments of silence, “This is the most conversation we have had…ever, as long as I can remember,” I shot my father a wiry grin. “Maybe I should break the law more often.”
I expected him to instantly grow serious and shake his head but instead, he chuckled and rolled his eyes.
Seeing him do something so
trivial was funny, and so, I laughed.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I finally replied with a wide beam.
“Merry Christmas, Dexter,” he held up his coffee as though making a toast, “To new beginnings for old fools and stubborn sons…”
“Amen to that!” I exclaimed, and for the first time, found myself hopeful that things might actually change between me and my father.
Chapter 30
Mazie
Christmas morning brought the delightful scent of coffee into my room. Remembering what day it was before I even opened my eyes, I felt a grin creep onto my face.
“Good morning!” I heard my mother exclaim, walking closer with the delightful aroma.
“Mmmm…good morning,” I grumbled, realizing that I was still extremely tired.
“Merry Christmas!” my mother offered when she was sure I was listening.
I groaned and rolled toward her as I felt my mother sit down on the bed next to me.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied, trying my best to wake up.
When I was finally able to sit up and grin wholeheartedly at my mother, she handed me a mug of coffee, just the way I liked it. It was then that I realized that this was one portion of my life that I missed.
“This is so strange for me,” she admitted with a chuckle, “Growing up, you would be up and running around like crazy person. I would’ve never had to wake you up on Christmas morning!”
I chuckled as she mused, almost sadly.
“I guess it’s just one more sign that you’re growing up,” there was pride in her eyes, but there was something else as well that coincided with what she was saying.
“Mom…” I began, feeling slightly guilty.
“No,” she interrupted me with an easiness to her voice that stopped any form of apology. “I’m not upset. It’s great to know that you are becoming your own woman. You, more than anyone, have found your own path in life, and we are proud of you for that. Instead of following in your father’s footsteps, you chose to really make it on your own, and that is impressive,” she insisted. “I know you’ve been teased, and your job has been scoffed at on more than one occasion by the people you grew up with, but I want you to know that we are proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mom,” I replied as I took a sip of my coffee.
“Although, there’s one thing that I don’t understand,” she added, her voice growing serious.
“What?” I asked, concerned.
“Last night, your father told me why he invited Dexter over for dinner, and while it was a pleasure to have him, and to find out the reason behind his presence, I can’t understand why you thought you had to hide that from us.”
“Mom…” I started, again feeling slightly contrite about the whole situation, “I didn’t hide it from you because I didn’t want you guys to know,” I insisted, which caused my mother to raise her eyebrows suspiciously. I chuckled, “What I mean, is, I didn’t want to complicate things. Like you said, I’m a grown woman, and I understand the delicate situation that comes with Dexter and I dating. God forbid we came out with it right away and it didn’t work out; and believe me, it’s been trying anyway, how awkward would that have made it for you guys…and for Mr. Myers.”
“Well, confiding in your parents is hardly putting an engagement announcement in the paper. Your father and I can keep a secret, as I am sure Mr. Myers can.” Her final comment was lined with a cynicism that I chose to ignore.
I didn’t want to get into that right now.
“Don’t I get any credit for trying to spare your feelings, then?” I offered, tilting my head, trying to focus on my reasoning instead of arguing.
At first, it looked as though my mother was going to retort, but after rethinking it, she simply sighed and shook her head.
“What do you mean by that? Didn’t you think we would be happy that you and Dexter decided to get together?”
“Of course, but again, if it didn’t work out, you would be stuck on an emotional roller coaster right along with me, and then, dad would have to see him all the time.”
“There’s always a risk of that. Besides, it’s your life. We just want you to be happy,” she insisted.
I knew that she was telling the truth and I had run out of arguments. Therefore, I averted my eyes for a moment, before pulling my gaze back to meet my mother’s eyes.
“Then, I’m sorry. I never intended for any of this to happen and I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, keeping whatever it was Dexter and I had a secret until we could figure it out for ourselves.”
She nodded, “Well, that’s a much more understandable answer.” She beamed and gently patted my leg, “I guess that’s enough for this morning. It is Christmas after all.”
With that, my mother and I went downstairs to see the mass of presents that my parents still put out, both for me and one another for Christmas morning.
My mother had always reveled in this tradition, and even though I had long since moved out, any year that I spent it with them, I always woke to more presents than when I went to bed.
Christmas Magic is what my mother called it, and I never argued. I was around children enough of my life to find comfort in the idea of magic and belief.
While I wasn’t irrational about it, nor did I believe my mother was, I did still enjoy the pursuit of keeping the spirit alive, in whatever form it manifested.
Once we were settled around the tree, our family took turns opening gifts and enjoying the time spent together, uninterrupted.
When Christmas morning was starting to wind down, and all of the presents were revealed, I excused myself and went out to the balcony with the intention of texting Dexter. However, as I stared down at my phone, looking for his name, I received an incoming call with his name coming up on the screen.
“We’re your ears ringing?” I inquired, grinning broadly.
“Why? Were you talking about me?” I could hear a smile in his voice as well.
“I was just about to text you. Merry Christmas,” I added, trying to prove that I wasn’t simply waiting around by the phone for his call.
“Merry Christmas, Mazie,” he replied with a tenderness that I couldn’t help but enjoy. “So,” he added in a manner that made me think he was slightly nervous, “I wanted to see what you wanted to do next week. I have the day off of work on Thursday, and I was thinking we could get together then.”
“Sure! I’m still off from work too, so that won’t be a problem,” I replied but secretly wished it were sooner.
Chapter 31
Dexter
The rest of Christmas wasn’t particularly memorable, considering my father and I hadn’t exchanged gifts with one another in years.
However, the lack of monetary sentiments wasn’t missed. Our conversation had yielded far more than anything that he could’ve bought me.
Therefore, when I arrived for work the following day, I was looking forward to what I genuinely believed to be a new chapter in my life. I was excited to have a new relationship with my father blossoming, and my only hope was that it would last.
This new perspective also breathed new life into my job. Knowing that my father was, indeed proud of the accomplishments I had made, enabled me to feel better about the work I was doing.
It made me wish that I had initiated this conversation earlier but if I had done that, it might not have gone as well.
I knew that for the conversation to have taken place the way it did, we both had to be ready for it. He and I were both stubborn and, according to my mother, a lot alike, which I only believed to be true in certain areas. However, our stubbornness was one area where it was undeniable. If one or the other wasn’t ready to open up, we wouldn’t have. Therefore, I was thankful that it happened when and how it did.
“Good morning!” I beamed brightly at the secretary as I walked in and she looked at me strangely, considering before the holiday, I wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around. “How was your holiday?” I asked, leaning heavily on
the desk in front of her.
“Good morning, Mr. Myer,” the secretary exclaimed. “It was wonderful! How was yours?”
“It couldn’t have been better,” I insisted genuinely.
“Was Santa Claus good to you?” she teased, giggling.
“You know what?” I contemplated out loud as the events of the holiday ran swiftly through my mind. “I guess you can say that he was.”
After the conversation with the secretary, I ran into a few other fellow employees and had a similar conversation with them. It seemed that my good mood was infectious, or at the very least, inspiring since everyone seemed to want to talk to me.
It took a while to get to my office, considering all of the conversations that I readily made myself a part of but when I did, I was happy to be there. I made my calls, returned my emails, and signed the papers that solidified the deal I had made before Christmas.
Once I was finished, before lunch, I went to my father’s office, legal documents in-hand, so that he could sign and review the deal before it was submitted.
Since it was such a big deal, the process was far more involved than that of the other thousands of transactions the company brokered each year.
Therefore, my father and Mr. Lawson had to sign it, as well as many representatives from the other company.
I knocked on the door and heard my father call me to come in. The fashion in which he spoke was not abnormal, but I expected that.
Although I was looking forward to the personal relationship my father and I had to get better, I wasn’t going to beat myself up if nothing changed during professional hours.
After all, I could understand the unwillingness to play favorites, even if it was a given that I was heir to the company. It still wouldn’t be fair for my father to treat me all that differently.
However, when I walked in, my father looked up at me and grinned.
“Hello, Dexter,” he offered, which took me back slightly. I had expected things to get better, but I still hadn’t expected him to be happy to see me. “I’m glad you came in. I wanted to talk to you.”