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Christmas With the Girl Next Door
She seemed so merry and bright.
Mom called at seven in the morning on Christmas Eve.
“Yes, Dan?” she started, as if she were checking to make sure she had the correct phone number. “Hi, I know it’s late notice, but your father doesn’t feel up to any festivities today. It’s been a bad morning so far.”
From the way her voice pitched lower, I knew she was trying not to let him overhear. He’d get agitated if anything was amiss in what had become his world’s landscape. Though my father and I had never been close, I still found myself mourning for the loss of the man he had once been.
“Okay, Mom,” I said. Then I hesitated, worried she could hear the relief in my voice that I wouldn’t have to go over to my old house for Christmas. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, no, Dan, that’s all right,” Mom said — and I could hear the heaviness in her voice as if she were holding back tears. “You just go out and enjoy some time with your friends, all right? Dad and I will be fine.”
I thought about saying it was too late to make plans with friends who had finalized their holiday schedules weeks ago, but I bit back the words in case they made my mother feel worse. It was too easy to make her cry these days, especially in the months since Dad’s official…
