by B. E. Baker
If Amy were an emoji, her face would've had hearts for eyeballs. Once I get the nod from Luke, I hand the baggies back.
Not two seconds after they started eating, Chase chimes in again. “I'm thirsty.”
I pull two sippy cups out of my purse and pass those back without asking. Every dad allows water, right?
“Umm, Mary Poppins, what did you bring for me?” Luke asks. “I'm starting to feel a little left out over here.”
“My bag is kind of magical. It may only be a knock off Prada from Mexico, but my sister Trudy calls it my magical Aunt bag.”
“Your sister's name is Trudy?” Amy's nose scrunches and her eyes squint up.
I nod and stifle a laugh. “Yeah, it wasn't my mom's best decision.”
“I would be so mad at my mom if she named me that.” Amy smiles. “I like Amy. And I like Mary, too.”
I bob my head. “Well, my dad named me after his mother, so my mom got to name their next child.”
“You're lucky you were born first.” Amy crunches on a Froot Loop loudly.
“You're not wrong kid. You're not wrong.” For more reasons than she knows.
Once we reach Target, both kids have emptied their bags. “Thanks,” Amy tells me when she hands me the empty Ziploc. She glares at Chase, but he drops his baggie on the floor and jumps into his dad's arms. She sighs and shakes her head. “It's like he has no manners at all.”
I laugh this time, and Luke does too. “Chase, tell Miss Mary thank you.”
“Thanks,” he says. “I like cereal.”
Chase holds Luke's hand across the wet sidewalk, but instead of walking over to take Luke's other hand, Amy looks up at me. “Can I hold your hand, Miss Mary?”
My heart cracks a little bit inside, and I can barely speak through the frog that crawled into my throat. “Sure.”
Neither of us stumble or slip on the way inside, but when we reach the front of the store and the doors slide open, I don't want to let go. I do though, so that I can pull my list out of my coat pocket and reach for a cart.
“What are you looking for?” Amy asks me.
“I have a family with two girls.” I don't admit that every year I choose at least one family with two girls. Just like my family. “I figure that's easier, because I have no idea what to buy for boys.”
“Can I help you shop, then? Dad said we have one girl who's seven and I'm really grown up for my age. You and me can pick that stuff and we can let the boys go get dumb Legos and stuff.”
“You don't like Legos?” I ask.
Amy shakes her head. “Chase left his out once, and I stepped on one. I threw them all away before he woke up from his nap, and no one's ever noticed.”
Luke's jaw drops. “You threw them out? I didn't know where they went.”
Amy's eyes dart from side to side, and then she looks at her feet.
“If something cut my finger, I'd toss it too,” I say. “I think that was sensible.”
“Legos cost an arm and a leg,” Luke says. “Besides. You can't go around throwing away other people's things.”
Amy's bottom lip sticks out. “You threw out my Barbie.”
“You cut off the bottom of her feet,” Luke says. “She was broken.”
“She got sick of wearing heels all the time,” Amy says. “She wasn't broken. She was improved.”
Luke grins in spite of himself. “The point is, no more throwing things away without asking me. Okay?”
Amy nods. “Sorry. But can Mary and I go shop and you get the boring boy stuff?”
Luke glances up at me, clearly nervous about cutting me loose with one of his kids. This was supposed to be time with him, not babysitting hour. I glance down at Amy's eager face. Her eyes shine up at me, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
I nod at Luke. “It's fine with me. I'd like her help picking out something for my sister. With a name like Gertrude, she really needs a good Christmas present this year.”
Luke snorts. “Meet back here near the carts in an hour?”
I shake my head. “We can't meet here, goof. It's past the register.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you trying to make me buy your family's stuff?”
“Maybe we should meet by the little dog,” Amy says, a glint in her eye.
Luke groans. “You just want an excuse to beg for another pair of shoes. We already have enough shoes for an army of five-year-old girls.”
“I need red ones,” she whines. “To go with my Christmas dress.”
Luke throws both hands in the air. “Mary, maybe you can help. She has black church shoes, and brown ones, white ones, and a pair of sparkly gold ones. Do you think she needs another pair?”
“You were just inside my closet. I can't believe you'd ask me this.” I tilt my head sideways. “Did you not see the rows of shoes, Luke? Of course she needs red ones.”
Amy smiles and holds her hand up for a high five.
Luke mutters. “I should've known this was a terrible idea. Amy already runs the show. The last thing she needs is an accomplice.”
“I don't need a nacumpliss.” Amy glances up at me. “I need a teacher.”
“I think you mean a mentor,” I say. “And I'm happy to show you the way to shoe bliss.”
I push the cart up the aisle before Luke can argue with us.
“You do not understand girls,” Amy says over her shoulder. Then to me, she whispers, “What's bliss?”
“I know what you're doing.” Luke winks. “You can't run away from me forever, you know.”
Except I don't need to run forever. Only until January. The thought makes me profoundly sad.
Chapter 14
Amy and I spend quite a bit of time looking at stuffed animals. She loves dogs. Fluffy dogs, small dogs, big dogs, puppies, speckled and black and white. She loves them all, at least in toy form.
“What about cats? This one's kind of cute.” I squeeze a fluffy, calico, kitten plush and shake it at her.
She frowns. “Cats don't play fetch. Cats don't do tricks. I don't need a rude pet. I already have a brother.”
I laugh then. “I never had a brother.”
Amy lifts one eyebrow. “You aren't missing much.”
“Not a fan of Chase?”
Amy shrugs. “I love him. He's just messy and kind of smelly and always throwing things. And I wish I had a sister instead.”
I bob my head. “I love my sister a lot, but when we were young, she was messy and smelly and threw things a lot. Once she got older, she'd borrow my things and break, stain or lose them.”
“Did you yell at her?”
I shake my head. “My dad did enough of that.”
“My dad yells sometimes.”
“Often? Or just sometimes?”
Amy pets the calico cat on its head. “Not a lot, but sometimes he gets really mad when we don't listen, or won't eat, or break things.”
I smile. “Does he yell more, or hug you more?”
She squeezes the cat. “Definitely hugs more.”
“Then it sounds like a pretty decent balance. My dad didn't hug us enough, so my sister got most of her hugs from me. Which was alright, because I needed some, too.”
“You sound like a good big sister.”
I lift both eyebrows. “How do you know I'm the big sister?”
Amy scrunches her nose. “I think you said. But even if you didn't, I can tell. Big sisters learn stuff like bringing snacks in their purses.”
She has a point. Amy carefully selects a stuffed animal for each girl. A crab with a baby for the five-year-old.
“Little kids like to play with baby stuff,” she says.
I don't laugh at her, since she isn't kidding. For the seven-year-old, she chooses a stuffed horse.
“Why a horse?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don't know, I just have a good feeling about it. I think I'll really like horses when I'm older.”
And for the thirteen-year-old, she insists on a huge white bunny with a bow.
; “She's a teenager,” I point out. “She might not want a stuffed rabbit.”
Amy hugs the rabbit close. “Anyone that has parents who can't get her something will want to hug something soft. Even if she's older. She'll like it, I just know it.”
I toss it in the cart. I pick a few additional items for the teenager. Scarves, sunglasses, headphones, a purse, some simple cosmetics, like lip-gloss and nail polish. Amy chooses toy items, and we choose a few other things together. Soft, fleecy blankets, slippers, and bathrobes. Eventually we wind up on the jewelry aisle.
Amy pores over the necklaces and selects one for the five-year-old with a dolphin pendant and a crystal. I help her choose a package of chokers for the seven-year-old, but she can't seem to settle on anything for the teenager.
“What's wrong?” I ask.
She sighs and looks through the glass case forlornly. “I don't know anything about jewelry for old people.”
I grin. “I'm not sure thirteen qualifies as old, but maybe we should play it safe. I bet she'd like a watch.”
“If we're getting her a watch, we should get her sister a watch.”
Amy's pretty astute for a five-year-old. We put the dolphin pendant back and pick watches for both of the sisters, and then one for the brother, too.
“So you want a puppy, but if your dad says no,” I say, “what else will you ask Santa for?”
Amy taps her lip with one finger. “I don't really want anything else.”
“What about one of the robotic dogs? I've heard they're nice.”
Amy rolls her eyes at me. “They aren't. I want something that can lick my hand.”
My lip curls. “I don't like when dogs lick me. Who knows where else that tongue has been?” I push the cart over to the rendezvous point for Luke and Chase. “There has to be something you'd like, other than a puppy.”
Amy looks at her shoes and I realize we never found her the sparkly red shoes she wanted.
“Oh no, we need to find your shoes, and we better be really quick.”
Her eyes light up and we race together over to the shoe section. I sit down next to her on the ground and help her try some on. We find the perfect pair, but they're too small, so I flag down an employee. “Can you get these in a larger size from the back?”
“I can try,” the woman says.
“We really need to find this pair,” I say, “because they're a perfect match for her Christmas dress.”
The woman smiles. “I'll do the best I can. I'm sure you hear this all the time ma'am, but your daughter has the most beautiful eyes.”
I freeze, unsure whether to correct her, but when I glance at Amy, she's beaming. “Thank you,” she says.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “She obviously didn't know.”
“I know, wasn't that great?” she asks.
“Uh, sure.” I suppose for someone who never has a mom around, it might be nice to feel like you're doing something normal. I'd know. I never had a mom, either. Not that I ever went shopping for sparkly shoes or anything.
Amy claps her hands together. “And, I know what I want for Christmas now.”
“What's that?” I ask.
She reaches over and takes my hand in hers. “I want you to stay and be my mom. Mine was super nice, but she died when Chase was born, and I've been so patient about getting a new one, but I'm really tired of waiting. And that lady thought you looked like my mom, and you know to bring Froot Loops when we're going somewhere, and water.” She looks up at me earnestly, her beautiful eyes gazing into mine.
And I have no idea what to say.
Chapter 15
My eyes widen and I can't seem to blink. “Well, I'm not sure that's something Santa can bring.”
She looks down at the ground and her tiny shoulders slump. “If I can't have a new mom, I guess maybe I'll ask for a house that doesn't move. I'm sick of making great friends and then I can never keep any of them.”
I reach over and take her hand. “I can understand that.”
She looks up at me. “You'd be my friend if I stayed here, right? Even if you don't want to be my mom?”
It's not that I don't want to be her mom. I want to tell her that I'd like to be her mom, but I can't say that. It's not my place, and I can't have kids. But a little girl who wants a friend? My heart swells. “Even if you don't stay, I'll always be your friend, Amy.”
“What do you want for Christmas?” Her mouth drops open, and her eyes light up. “Do you want a puppy? I can come play with it, and even walk it for you, if you want.”
I laugh. “Uh, no. But that reminds me. We need to meet your dad and Luke at the big plastic dog.”
“But my shoes!”
As if on cue, the woman comes walking up from the back, a small box in hand.
Amy thanks her, and so do I. When Amy tries on the new shoes, they fit her perfectly.
“Oh, I love them,” I say.
“You may not want to be my mom,” Amy says. “But you'd be a really good one for someone, because you've had so much practice with your sister.”
My lungs stop working, and my hands shake. I'd be a terrible mom, because like my own mother, I'd always miss things for work. I can't speak or even look Amy in the eyes, so I toss her shoes in the cart and start walking. She follows along after me, blessedly quiet for a moment.
We're only ten feet from the dog, and Luke's not there yet.
My vocal chords finally work again. “You deserve the best mom in the world.”
Amy frowns. “I don't need the best mom, just a good one would be fine. Aunt Linda says no mom is perfect, and they all have to learn as they go. I promise I’ll be super patient.”
I crouch down right in front of her and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “You are a lovely little girl, and there's no doubt you'd be a perfect daughter. I'm sure your dad will find you a mother very soon.”
“What about a puppy for you?” Amy asks. “My dad won't get me one, but maybe he'd let me get one for you. You're an adult, and Dad says your house doesn't have wheels under it.”
I stand up again and brush my pants off. “It's not always easy to be a grown up. I work a lot, and a dog would be hard for me to care for alone. Besides, puppies pee everywhere and chew on everything. If I got one, it would eat my shoes and ruin my carpet.”
She nods. “How about a hamster, then? I hear they're easy to take care of. And they can't chew on anything that's not in their cage.”
I shake my head. “It's a good idea, but I don't need a pet. In fact, I can't think of a single thing I want for Christmas this year. I have everything I could possibly ask for. I think that's why Santa doesn't come to adults as much. They already have almost everything they want.”
Amy narrows her eyes at me. “I think Santa doesn't come to adults because they won't admit what they really want.”
Luke walks up then, pushing the cart with Chase sitting in the front. Luke's coat is slung over the side of the cart, and his blue polo shirt clings to his chest. I bite my lip, remembering how his pecs felt under my hand. She might be right. What I really want is for Luke not to be moving. And not to have kids. Although when I think about Amy and Chase, I can't really wish he didn't have them. That feels wrong. They're such cute, sweet children.
“You ladies have any luck?”
Amy shows him the things we found, one at a time. Luke oohs and aahs appropriately, but Chase starts throwing things out of the cart, and we end up rushing toward the register. “It's okay, buddy, we're going now, okay?”
I start pulling things out of the cart for my girls, but Luke stops me. “I'll get it. If you insist, you can tally up what you owe me back at my place.” Several people have stacked up in line behind us.
“Please let me pay,” he repeats.
I cringe a little, but I don't want to make a big deal about it at the register. “You've got two kids and I'm sure—”
Luke shakes his head. “It's fine, I promise.”
I let it go, but after we've got the k
ids buckled into car seats, and the gifts stowed under the truck's bed cover in the back, I notice a big sign a few blocks down the road. I whisper to Luke. “Do you have time for Chuck-e-Cheese?” I incline my head toward the sign. “My treat, since you paid in there.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “Have you been to Chuck-e-Cheese in the last two decades? You'd probably be getting the bad end of this deal.”
I tilt my head to the side. “How bad can it be?”
He turns around to check behind him before backing out and while he's looking at the kids, says, “Hey guys, Miss Mary wants to know if you two like Chuck-e-Cheese. She said she's never been, and wants to know if it's any fun.”
Their animated whoops and hollers fill the car, and I close my eyes briefly, pondering whether I can cover my ears without offending them. Once it's quiet enough we can hear again, I say, “I think that's a yes.”
Luke laughs. “I'd say so.”
Chase is so excited once we park in the lot outside, that he squirms out of Luke's arms and insists on running across the sloshy parking lot. Luke races after him, glancing back at me apologetically. Amy stands on a dry patch and holds out her hand for mine after she climbs down.
“Thanks for bringing us,” she says.
I take her hand. “You're doing me the favor. I didn't get any Froot Loops earlier, so I'm about to perish with hunger.”
Amy tilts her head. “Yeah right. Dad never brings us here. He hates Chuck-e-Cheese, so I know it was your idea.”
Luke glances back at me, grinning ear to ear as Chase drags him toward the entrance. He's so handsome, with his big dimples, and his perfect hair that I almost can't stand it.
“We better hurry,” I say.
Amy shivers. “It is cold.”
We rush inside, where they stamp our hands, and I learn that Luke's right. It's not a cheap place to hang out, and it’s a madhouse. We elbow another couple out of the way to secure a table where we can wait for what I’m assuming will be truly amazing pizza, or probably not. I lay our coats on the booth benches so no one gets any funny ideas while we get drinks.