Christmas with the Reeds
Page 9
He laughs and tears at the paper on his package, almost like he’s afraid to open it. Then he pulls the tiny pendant on a simple gold chain from the box and lets it dangle in front of him. When you first look at it, you only see the words “Strong, brave, proud.” But when the light hits it, you can see an etched image in the gold that shows a picture of him with his mother.
“Wow, Aunt Sky, that’s beautiful.” He lets it shimmer in front of his face, taking in the facets of it. “Sometimes I forget what she looked like. What she sounded like. This is great. Thank you so much.”
He reaches behind his neck to clasp the chain, and then grabs the pendant in his fist. “Truly, Sky. I love it.” He leans down to kiss my cheek, and says really close to my ear, “I don’t think she’d mind you being my mom. You’re pretty awesome.”
Mellie and Joey come running over and climb in my lap. I let them knock me over, and then Hoppy and Matty come too, and they climb into the pile. I scream, “Help me, Seth!” from the pile, but I don’t want to get out of it. I love every minute of my life.
I see Matt’s red and green socks right by my head. He leans down. “Does Mommy need some help?”
“Please!” I cry. I pretend to bat at the kids, but I’m really tickling them. They giggle and fall off the pile, and then climb back on.
Matt starts to pluck them off one by one until I’m a breathless mess on the floor trying to catch my wits so I can sit up. He holds a hand out to me.
Around noon, Friday’s son Jacob shows up with his mom and dad. He brought a few of his favorite toys that Santa brought for him and Friday has a few under her tree for him to open too. Then her friends Garrett and Cody show up with their daughter Tuesday. And we’re all suddenly really glad we renovated the apartments so there’s more room.
There are people everywhere. But that’s what it’s like at the Reeds’.
Emily’s parents come by, and my mom and dad drop by briefly. People are in and out all day long. We stay, because we don’t want to be anywhere else. This is our family. It’s big and loud and we don’t want to change it. I want my kids to be steeped in the same love and compassion that Matt was, and I want it all to carry over. It’s so different from my own childhood.
Matt puts his arm around me. “You doing okay?” he asks. “Would you rather go home?”
I shake my head and step onto my tiptoes so I can kiss his cheek. “Nope. I want to be here.”
“Has anyone seen Josh today?” Pete asks.
“I’ll call him,” Sam says. But the phone rings and rings and rings. “I wonder where he is,” Sam muses.
Josh
This morning I woke up in my own apartment in my own bed. It was soft and comfortable, completely unlike the mat at the prison. It was so comfortable that it was almost impossible to go to sleep.
I rolled myself into my own shower and stayed in it as long as I wanted to, using the manly soaps and shaving cream someone had left for me. It has been a long time since I’ve experienced luxury like this.
I still have a wad of hundred dollar bills in my pocket and I feel bad that I didn’t finish giving them out. It’s Christmas Day, and I have too much money. Money that’s not mine. I almost think I need to take it back to the Reeds, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’d want me to do with it.
So, instead, I take myself to the hospital, to the long-term-care ward. It’s where I stayed after my accident, while I learned how to get myself around, transfer to a bed, learned how to dress myself, and do all the necessities. I want to go and talk to some of the patients there, to see if there’s anything I can do to help them.
When I get there, I go to the nurses’ station and introduce myself. “Okay if I go and talk to some of the people here?”
She shrugs. I don’t think she really wants to be here on Christmas Day.
I roll down the hallway, peering into doors, until I see a young man propped up in a bed. “Merry Christmas,” I tell him. “Can I come in?”
He nods warily. I introduce myself, and his mother comes back into the room, so I introduce myself to her too.
“Are you with the hospital?” she asks.
I shake my head. “How’s the rehab going?” I ask.
“It’s going well. We’re waiting for a grant to go through so he can get a motorized chair.”
Bingo! This is why I came here. “What do they cost?” I ask. “A lot?”
“Several thousand. It’s like buying a car.” She titters nervously.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash. I count out hundreds and watch as her eyes grow wider and wider. “If this isn’t enough, come and see me at Reeds’ Tattoo shop, okay?” I tell her. I shake hands with the young boy. “Merry Christmas.”
The mom can’t speak, but she hugs me and I leave with my heart feeling a little lighter.
I give away a little more, and finally find a young boy who needs a computer so he can talk. It’s kind of like the one Pete’s friend Gonzo uses so he can type and have the computer speak for him. I give his dad some money and he’s almost speechless. “Who are you?” he finally asks.
“Just a guy with some extra cash,” I tell him. Extra cash and guilt. I have a heavy heart, and this is actually helping, although it will never undo what I did, and I know that.
I find a few homeless people and give out the last of the cash, and then I head back to my apartment. I go home. Because I have one. Of my very own.
“Wow, Aunt Sky, that’s beautiful.” He lets it shimmer in front of his face, taking in the facets of it. “Sometimes I forget what she looked like. What she sounded like. This is great. Thank you so much.”
He reaches behind his neck to clasp the chain, and then grabs the pendant in his fist. “Truly, Sky. I love it.” He leans down to kiss my cheek, and says really close to my ear, “I don’t think she’d mind you being my mom. You’re pretty awesome.”
Mellie and Joey come running over and climb in my lap. I let them knock me over, and then Hoppy and Matty come too, and they climb into the pile. I scream, “Help me, Seth!” from the pile, but I don’t want to get out of it. I love every minute of my life.
I see Matt’s red and green socks right by my head. He leans down. “Does Mommy need some help?”
“Please!” I cry. I pretend to bat at the kids, but I’m really tickling them. They giggle and fall off the pile, and then climb back on.
Matt starts to pluck them off one by one until I’m a breathless mess on the floor trying to catch my wits so I can sit up. He holds a hand out to me.
Around noon, Friday’s son Jacob shows up with his mom and dad. He brought a few of his favorite toys that Santa brought for him and Friday has a few under her tree for him to open too. Then her friends Garrett and Cody show up with their daughter Tuesday. And we’re all suddenly really glad we renovated the apartments so there’s more room.
There are people everywhere. But that’s what it’s like at the Reeds’.
Emily’s parents come by, and my mom and dad drop by briefly. People are in and out all day long. We stay, because we don’t want to be anywhere else. This is our family. It’s big and loud and we don’t want to change it. I want my kids to be steeped in the same love and compassion that Matt was, and I want it all to carry over. It’s so different from my own childhood.
Matt puts his arm around me. “You doing okay?” he asks. “Would you rather go home?”
I shake my head and step onto my tiptoes so I can kiss his cheek. “Nope. I want to be here.”
“Has anyone seen Josh today?” Pete asks.
“I’ll call him,” Sam says. But the phone rings and rings and rings. “I wonder where he is,” Sam muses.
Josh
This morning I woke up in my own apartment in my own bed. It was soft and comfortable, completely unlike the mat at the prison. It was so comfortable that it was almost impossible to go to sleep.
I rolled myself into my own shower and stayed in it as long as I wanted to, using the manly soaps and shaving cream someone had left for me. It has been a long time since I’ve experienced luxury like this.
I still have a wad of hundred dollar bills in my pocket and I feel bad that I didn’t finish giving them out. It’s Christmas Day, and I have too much money. Money that’s not mine. I almost think I need to take it back to the Reeds, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’d want me to do with it.
So, instead, I take myself to the hospital, to the long-term-care ward. It’s where I stayed after my accident, while I learned how to get myself around, transfer to a bed, learned how to dress myself, and do all the necessities. I want to go and talk to some of the patients there, to see if there’s anything I can do to help them.
When I get there, I go to the nurses’ station and introduce myself. “Okay if I go and talk to some of the people here?”
She shrugs. I don’t think she really wants to be here on Christmas Day.
I roll down the hallway, peering into doors, until I see a young man propped up in a bed. “Merry Christmas,” I tell him. “Can I come in?”
He nods warily. I introduce myself, and his mother comes back into the room, so I introduce myself to her too.
“Are you with the hospital?” she asks.
I shake my head. “How’s the rehab going?” I ask.
“It’s going well. We’re waiting for a grant to go through so he can get a motorized chair.”
Bingo! This is why I came here. “What do they cost?” I ask. “A lot?”
“Several thousand. It’s like buying a car.” She titters nervously.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash. I count out hundreds and watch as her eyes grow wider and wider. “If this isn’t enough, come and see me at Reeds’ Tattoo shop, okay?” I tell her. I shake hands with the young boy. “Merry Christmas.”
The mom can’t speak, but she hugs me and I leave with my heart feeling a little lighter.
I give away a little more, and finally find a young boy who needs a computer so he can talk. It’s kind of like the one Pete’s friend Gonzo uses so he can type and have the computer speak for him. I give his dad some money and he’s almost speechless. “Who are you?” he finally asks.
“Just a guy with some extra cash,” I tell him. Extra cash and guilt. I have a heavy heart, and this is actually helping, although it will never undo what I did, and I know that.
I find a few homeless people and give out the last of the cash, and then I head back to my apartment. I go home. Because I have one. Of my very own.
