A glowing wife wraps a “Baby’s First Christmas” bib for her husband’s stocking.
***
Sean bashes his rattle against his wooden high chair. His parents dance close to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
***
Sean leaps onto his sleeping parents shrilling, “Sanna’s been. Sanna came!” It is 5:18 a.m.
***
“Deer Santa,” Sean writes. “I bin god. I wan scates and a socker ball. Hi Rudolf.”
***
“You know it’s Mom and Dad, right?” Sean sneers. Lyla’s tears blur her painting for Santa. Guilty, Sean suggests a tea party, eager to see his little sister smile again.
***
After earning extra cash serving hors d’oeuvres at his parent’s holiday party, Sean and his best friend sneak upstairs with heavily spiked eggnogs.
***
Sean’s able to forgive his parents the lump of coal in his stocking when he unwraps a set of keys to the Honda Civic.
“It’s yours now,” his Dad says.
“Be careful,” adds his Mom.
***
Lyla delivers Christmas dinner to her brother laid-up in bed.
“They’re still pissed?” Sean asks.
“D’uh. You totaled the car and your knee. What do you expect?”
“I wasn’t drinking,” Sean lies.
“Whatever. Way to ruin Christmas.”
***
Sean works the night shift at Canadian Tire stocking shelves in anticipation of Boxing Day shoppers. On break he offers half his pizza sub to Marisa.
“It’s okay.” He balls up the sandwich wrapper to stop from reaching out to wipe her tears away. “Your daughter’s too young to remember you’re working on Christmas.”
***
Assistant managers have to start early, but before his shift Sean visits Marisa. His girlfriend’s daughter is agog when presented with a stuffed panda twice her size.
***
“When we’re married, it’ll be different,” Sean reassures Marisa. He reaches for her hand across the card table they’ve covered with a red tablecloth to make their microwave turkey dinners more festive. Angelica pushes her plate away with still pudgy hands demanding mac and cheese.
***
Sean rests a hand on Marisa’s back as her body shakes with sobs. He stares blearily at the Dora curtain they strung across their studio apartment to give Angelica her own space. He imagines killing the antler-wearing asshole whose skidding stop sent Angelica flying from the crosswalk and out of their lives.
***
Lyla’s curls tickle Sean’s nose when she leans against his shoulder on their parents’ sofa. “I’m glad you’re here, big brother,” she says.
“You think he’s ‘the one’?” Sean nods in the direction of Lyla’s college boyfriend helping their Dad with his new camera.
Lyla’s flushed cheeks belie her off-handed shrug.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Marisa,” she says.
“She just needed some time alone,” Sean says, slamming back his eggnog. “She’ll be back.”
***
Sean slumps in the kitchen doorway watching his parents trying to elicit a smile from Lyla’s baby boy.
Sean’s Mom beams, “My first grandbaby to wear the bib!”
Lyla’s husband claps Sean’s shoulder. “One more semester?”
Sean answers, “Then my BS will be official!”
***
Lyla laughs under the mistletoe as her husband bends down to kiss her swollen belly. Sean’s nephew claps delightedly.
Sean smiles distractedly at the nativity scene in front of him. He’s not jealous this year. He’s wondering if Sheila from accounting will still smell of peppermint when they go out to dinner next week.
***
Sean smiles at his nephews toddling down the church aisle in red and green velvet vests. Sheila approaches next all in white with mistletoe and holly berries in her bouquet. Sean blinks to keep from crying.
***
Sheila reads “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” to Lyla’s boys. Sean tells her on the drive home, “You’ll be a great mom one day.”
***
Christmas in Hawaii is a letdown. Sean misses the snow. Still, it’s good to be away from all the sympathy. Seeing Sheila happy again is worth the cost. Anyway, this trip is nothing compared to all they owe for the fertility treatments.
***
Sean stares in wonder at the precious three-month-old in his arms. He cradles his son while his mother coos at Eric to look at the camera while wearing the “Baby’s First Christmas” bib.
***
Eric snorts with laughter then begins again the song he learned from his cousins: “Jingle bells, Batman smells…” Sean tightens his grip on the steering wheel, trying to keep from shouting “shut up.”
***
Eric’s young face contorts in an almost adult anger. “You lied!” He yells. “Santa’s not real!”
***
Sean stands over the Christmas dishes, water rushing into the sink. Out the window Eric, only 11, reaches behind a fence slat to claim his hidden cigarettes.
***
Cutting up overcooked turkey with a plastic knife, Sean smiles grimly at a hopeful Sheila. Eric ignores them. Sean wonders how a holiday dinner together at the center helps Eric’s substance abuse treatment.
***
Sean and Sheila are already in bed watching a Christmas special on TV.
“It’s only 6 in California,” Sheila says hopefully. “He might still call.”
***
Sean sits beside a big bag of donated presents. His forced “Ho Ho Ho” echoes in the church basement as the children come to receive gifts. He’s already planning for his monologue about this when he visits Sheila’s long-term care facility.
***
Sean’s hip replacement aches, but he still sounds jolly when he gives the church kids their donated presents. They’re all he’s got this year.
***
Eric stands on the doorstep with a carton of store-bought eggnog introducing the woman at his side as his wife. “You going to invite us in?”
“Of course,” Sean says. “Merry Christmas!” He hasn’t felt this merry in years.
***
Sean’s threadbare Santa suit sags where the buttons once strained at his belly. “Ho Ho”-ing makes him cough. Tears fog Santa’s glasses as Eric places newborn Colton, wearing a long familiar Christmas bib, in Sean’s lap for a photo.
***
Colton refuses to sit in Santa’s lap at the church party.
“What’s up?” Eric asks.
“That’s not Santa,” Sean’s grandson complains.
“You sure?”
“Santa laughs like grandpa did. That’s not Santa.”
Jenn Q. Goddu is a transplant from Canada living in Charlotte, NC, after a 10-year stint in Chicago. She has an MFA in fiction from Queens University of Charlotte, where she teaches. She is also a freelance writer/editor/writing coach. Follow her at @jennqgoddu or, if you love birthdays, enjoy her blog birthdaysarebest.com.
Help us keep the daily stories coming with Patreon.