George and I are alone today, as Marion is a bit under the weather. Just a week shy of Christmas, she didn’t want to get me sick, George says.
“Two. What about your soldier? How many did you two miss?”
“One.” Though, really, eleven. “I just got the letter he sent me on Christmas when he got to Afghanistan.” I quickly tell George the story, giving a basic backstory of my mother’s general awfulness while I was with Ryker.
“Have you spoken with your mother since you read the letter?”
I shake my head. “No. I think I need to decide if I’m more angry or grateful. That will skew the direction of the conversation.”
“She held onto it, though, Bug . . .”
“I know,” I sigh. “Oh! The boys made you Christmas cards.” Pulling the cards from my bag, I catch a smile on George’s face.
“Is this me and Marion?” He turns the cards in a full circle, inspecting them playfully.
“Yes,” I chuckle, “it is.”
“What’s on my back?”
I squint at the picture. “Oh, that’s a cape.” Seeing the question cross his face, I offer more, “I told him you were an “Army guy”—”
“Marine,” he shoots me an almost-dirty look.
“Take it easy,” I tease, “I know that, they don’t get it. They’re five. Anyway, they say Army-guys are heroes. And, heroes have capes and all of that . . .”
George grins, running his thumb over the face of each card. “They’re good boys, Bug.”
“I know.” With a deep breath, I smile. “I’ve gotta get going, George. Lots to do before Christmas and all.”
Including obsessing over Ryker’s words in a letter he sent a lifetime ago as if he wrote them yesterday.
“Have a good Christmas, Natalie.” George stands and gives me as big of a hug as he can.
“You and Marion, too.” I kiss him on the cheek and move on to the fury of activity that awaits me over the next few days.
Turns out Dr. Greene was right; busy isn’t a coping mechanism. Visiting George and Marion once a week was perfect for my schedule until Winter break hit for the college. I was staring six weeks in the face with not much planned, and Tosha and Liz were going to Hawaii for most of it. Because that’s what couples without children can do when they have over a month off of work.
After cleaning my apartment top to bottom and inside out, baking for Max and Ollie, and doing all of my holiday shopping, I’ve made it to Christmas morning without much trouble. Sure, there have been moments—ironically, the quiet ones—where I’ve thought about cutting. Rather than avoid the thought altogether, I force myself to think it all the way through, every time. I ask myself how cutting would make the person, or situation I’m stressed about any better. The answer is always “it wouldn’t.” Ever. I try not to think about the day that the answer might be “it would help,” and focus on the given day or, sometimes, moment.
Max, Ollie, and I enjoy a very loud, very sugar-filled Christmas morning full of presents, video games, and books. Up until about a month ago, the first time the three of us read a new book, it would take me a few tries to get all the signs right. Now if I mess up, one of them will correct me. They laugh when I mess up, and I’m glad there’s laughter within that situation, now.
Excited as ever for their “second Christmas,” the boys race up the front steps of Eric’s new house before I’ve barely had time to put the car in park. He closed on the house at the beginning of the month, so it’s not my first time here; still, I take a deep breath, staring at the perfectly lit roof and front bushes.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy!” they shout as Eric opens the door with a broad grin.
“Merry Christmas to you kiddos!” he says and signs perfectly. They tumble inside where they’re greeted by Eric’s parents.
Eric tilts his head to the side and offers a sweet smile. “Merry Christmas, Natalie.”
“You too, Eric.” I hand him the boys’ duffel bags.
“Do you want to come in for a drink?”
The question is innocent enough, but the implications are anything but. Eric’s parents aren’t my biggest fans at the moment. They don’t badmouth me in front of the boys and, apparently, that’s all I can expect right now.