Chapter 1
1261 Words
After elbowing my way through the grocery store for the past hour, I return home, anxious to sit on the couch and watch the Monday night football game.
“Okay, I think I got everything you need,” I holler to Marla when I get inside the house. The holiday music is playing, so I have no idea if she heard me or not.
Christmas is her favorite holiday, and she goes all out on every inch of our house. Now that we’re grandparents to twenty-two grandchildren, every year she’s adding more and more to the to-do list, trying to top the previous year. Even when I tell her it’s not about the presents or the perfectly baked sugar cookies or the structurally sound gingerbread house, it’s that we’re blessed to be together another year, she insists on making a fuss.
She understands what the holiday is really all about, but my wife loves to see everyone’s reactions. She’s addicted to their hugs and smiles.
I set the bags on the kitchen table, hoping this will be my last trip to the grocery store until after Christmas. Today was my third trip in two days. Christmas is only five days away, so there’s lots of time for her to figure out something else she’s missing.
“Marla!” I shout when she doesn’t join me in the kitchen.
No answer, so I unload the groceries, putting the cold items away first. Then I spot her walking down the hallway and leaning against the doorframe as though she ran a marathon and worries her legs might give out. She looks off.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” I walk over to her and lead her to a chair.
“Remember how Isaiah and Sam caught that flu going around last week?”
Xavier and Clara’s twin boys just entered kindergarten and are going through that horrible phase of catching every germ imaginable. Since Marla pretty much runs the after-school pickup for the Greene family so that all the parents can continue working the rest of the day, her immune system is relearning it all too. She’s been sick more this year than any other.
“Please tell me you’re not sick again?”
She nods. “I felt off this morning but figured it was that I’m getting older. Too old to be doing all this.” She motions toward the bags of groceries I’ve yet to unpack.
“Exactly my point the other night.” When I was giving her a foot massage until she fell asleep at seven o’clock.
She shakes her head. “Christmas is what brings family together. I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s part of what’s made us one family, not two.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I’ve learned a lot during my married years, and now is not the time. And I can’t fault Marla. Her one goal ever since we got married has been to make sure every single person in our blended family feels as though they belong.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
“No!” She tries to stand but has to grip the table to steady herself. She inhales deeply.
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” I sweep my bride up in my arms, and she wraps her arms around my neck, her eyes already slipping shut. She’s running herself ragged.
I walk up the stairs, which is admittedly harder to do than it was a decade ago, bring her to our master bedroom, and lay her down on the bed. First, I remove her socks and her pants, leaving her in her panties and shirt, then slide her under the blankets. I press a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, honey. I’ll be up to check on you in a little bit.”
She murmurs, fighting sleep, but she’s out by the time I shut the door.
I’m walking downstairs toward the kitchen when I hear someone come in through the garage door.
“Ry?” I ask.
“Hey, Dad.” He drops his bag and looks around. “Where’s Mom?”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, opening my arms. “Give your ol’ man a hug.”
He walks into my arms, and I hold him tightly. I barely see my youngest son anymore now that he’s a professional soccer player. And it isn’t as if he can’t come visit. He has plenty of time in the off-season, but I feel like he doesn’t want to come home very often. I have my suspicions as to why, but I keep those to myself. He’ll open up to me eventually.
“It’s good to have you home.”
We step out of the embrace, and I take him in. Rylan’s more muscular than ever, conditioned and toned to play the sport he loves. It’s his face that strikes me the most, showcasing the passage of time with how grown up he looks with a five-o’clock shadow and strong jaw.
“So, where’s Mom?”
I sigh. “She’s sick.”
“Sick?” His eyes widen, and he looks toward the stairs.
When I got diagnosed with cancer many years ago, Rylan was still living at home. He saw me day in and day out, and I think it scared him more than he ever let on.
“No.” I shake my head before he thinks the worst. “Xavier’s twins brought something home from school. She’s sleeping.” I walk into the kitchen to continue unloading the groceries. “If she doesn’t beat it fast, I’ll need your help.”
“You got it,” he says, then takes a container of leftovers out of the fridge and fixes himself a plate. He waits by the microwave as I put the groceries away.
“I thought you weren’t coming home for a few more days?” I ask, not wanting to pry. It’s taken me a lot of kids to realize the more they think you’re prying, the more they hide. Best to act like you don’t give a s**t either way.
“A friend of mine is having a party later this week, but I canceled at the last minute. Just needed to be home.”
“Well, I couldn’t be happier to see you.”
The microwave dings and he sits down at the table with his fork in hand. Then he stands and goes into our laundry room, where our spare fridge is, returning with a water. He’s antsy.
I get some of the things organized that I know for sure Marla would want done, trying not to analyze his every move.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How come you never left Sunrise Bay?”
Ah, there it is. I think each of my kids has asked me that question at some point in their life. I have to be careful how I respond because first, I need to taper down my own excitement. I’m guessing that if he’s asking that question, it means he’s contemplating moving back. I’ve always pushed my kids to try to achieve their dreams, and sometimes those dreams take them far away. But a small piece of me always wishes they’ll want to stick around Sunrise Bay and live near us.
“Well…” I take a break, sitting down across the table from him and being a hundred-percent honest with him, hoping it’ll help him do some self-reflection and discovery this week while he’s home.
- Writer
