The Family Man

The pile of presents was a little higher than last year. December brought another check from Jake, which allowed me to spoil Maria a little. I even started a college savings plan with a measly $50. Every time I got a check, I decided I would send the first $50 to the account. When Maria got older, and I could get back to the hospital, I'd increase the amount. I felt like a responsible parent again.

"They're perfect," Maria announced, holding up two of the four pairs of crazy mismatched socks. The color blends matched, but the stripes and patterns were different, giving them the awesome fashion sense that ten-year-old girls coveted. I smiled at her. She would never know they were the most expensive socks I had ever bought in my life.

It took another ten minutes for Maria to rip open the rest of my gifts, leaving Jake's for last. I wasn't sure Jake knew what his little girl wanted anymore. The box was a good size, and I feared he may have bought some dollhouse or some plastic kitchen set. Maria would politely fawn over it, but I knew it would be another sign they were losing touch with one another.

"There's a card for you on it." Maria tore the tape off and brought the envelope over to me. She waited patiently as I opened it. I didn't get him a card. Maybe I should have at least sent him a note so that he knew I respected the change in him.

It was a standard Christmas card you would find at any store. Nothing that sang of love for anything but the season. At least he wasn't making a veiled pass at me. I opened the card and read the small note he had handwritten inside. Tears obstructed the view on the third read. By the fourth, I was sure I had read it correctly. No weak apology, no requests or excuses. Just a couple of simple lines with his signature below it.

For the last few years, Maria needed a good mother.

I thank God she has a great one.

Jake

Jake was telling me it wasn't my fault. I was the rock when I had always felt the willow. Little rivers drifted down my cheeks. It was the best Christmas present anyone could have given me. I wasn't the crazy bitch. I didn't need to rethink everything that tore apart my marriage.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked, sliding over to look inside the card. I closed it quickly and wiped under my eyes. For an instant, I thought about how Jake's words would look on a billboard. I smiled at Maria.

"I think your father is getting better," I said, "though time will be the real test."

"What did it say?"

"It said he loves you," I paraphrased, straightening up and pointing to Jake's gift. "What's in the box?" It took a second for her mind to shift back to greedy mode. As she tore off the wrapping paper, I felt the void. Jake was missing. Not his arms around me, just the second pair of eyes watching Maria's joy. He had always been excited, even when she was too little to know what was going on. I looked up and silently prayed that his sobriety would last. Forever. Maria needed forever.

"No Way! They're purple just like my scooter." Maria pulled out a matching pair of purple knee pads, purple helmet, and purple fingerless wrist protectors. "They're exactly right. How did he know?" Unless he was spying on us, there was only one way he could have found out. Eric.

"I think he had help from Santa," I said.

"Mom," Maria moaned, drawing out my name like it was made of taffy. "Did you tell him?"

"Nope, didn't say a word." I raised my hands in surrender. Jake had done good, and his daughter needed that. Then I thought of something, "We forgot to bake Christmas cookies." Maria's eyes lit up again. She liked to decorate. "I'd bet that Mr. Papirius would like some cookies. I think he's all alone this year." The thought of Mr. Grumpy trying to turn down cookies from Maria brought a horrible devious smile to my face. It was his own fault.

"Yeah," Maria said, jumping up in her bunny slippers. "We could invite him to dinner. That way we won't have to eat leftovers for a million years." My heart jumped with her glee. I could see him at his door now, trying desperately to worm his way out of sitting at the same table as me. Hit my family with kindness, and you get smacked right back. I was really loving Christmas.

"Okay, but you have to ask him." Maria nodded happily, and we got right to work. Well, after some pancakes. After all, present opening really works up the appetite.

Chapter 10

Maria pushed the doorbell, her other arm holding the container of colorful cookies. I was overjoyed with the plan. Whether or not he came to dinner was of little consequence. It was how he wormed his way out of it with Maria that would be fun to watch. I knew it was juvenile teasing, but it was in the spirit of the season. I had tradition on my side.

"Remember, he might have other plans." I reminded Maria again just so she wasn't overly disappointed with the expected rejection.

The door swung open, and Eric's scowl faltered as his eyes fell from mine to Maria's. So much fun.

"We baked you Christmas cookies," Maria said, handing the plastic container to Eric. The struggle in his eyes was too much. "Merry Christmas!"

"Ahh, and to you both as well," Eric stammered. A smile finally graced his face, though it was meant for Maria. It was a lot warmer smile than I had expected, now that I was close to it. He popped the lid open and examined the overly sugared cookies. Maria was old enough to make sure that trees were green and reindeer were brown. She even went as far as attempting ornaments, bows, and Rudolf noses. "These look professional," Eric said, "Are you sure you really made them?" For some reason, I was jealous of my own daughter. A man that wouldn't give me the time of day was complimenting her like she was human. She got smiles when I only received frowns.

"Everyone of them," Maria said, coming up on her tiptoes to point out a few of them. "Sometimes the cookie moved and messed up, but they'll taste the same anyway. I put red noses on some of the reindeer."

"Rudolf," Eric agreed, "I spotted them right away. The wreaths look darn good as well. How did you do the ribbons so nicely?" In fact, they were hardly ribbons at all, and I was surprised he was able to decipher it.

"They were hard. I had to take a knife and move the red around to get it right." Maria was moving her hand to help demonstrate the procedure. Eric was watching patiently, absorbing her words and looking like he enjoyed it. I realized I wasn't smiling anymore. I forced one back on my lips.

"We want to invite you to Christmas dinner," Maria said excitedly. The moment I was waiting for. "It will just be us, and we have plenty of food." Eric's grin grew and his eyes lifted to mine. He was barely holding back a chuckle.

"How could I refuse such a gracious offer." I could see the realization on his face. His words were directed at Maria, yet his expression was meant for me. He knew what I was doing and had surrendered. His strong smile sparkled in his eyes. My own was no longer forced. There was an honesty about our silent exchange. Something words would only ruin.

"Dinner's at two," I said. Was I blushing?

"I'd like to bring some wine. Turkey I assume."

"Yes, with stuffing and everything else," Maria chimed in.

"Wonderful. I have been dying to try out a Spanish Garnacha I picked up. It should be perfect with Turkey and gravy." His smile never ceased as my own began to weaken. I could see it in his eyes, the way they were waiting for my mind to click in. From teaser to teasee.

"Do you think wine is a good idea?" I asked him softly. He chuckled at me and looked down at Maria.

"I will be there promptly at two, madam." Maria smiled and looked up at me. Her first dinner invitation given had been accepted. I was at a loss. I might have been responsible for driving Eric back to drink. My Christmas ploy could backfire horribly, possibly ruining everything.

"But..." Eric held up his hand to stall my protest.

"I assure you, the wine will be fine. Though well meaning, your assumptions are incorrect." His eyes softened as he told me. The stupidity I should have been feeling faded into his smile.

"Yeah, she thought you would have other plans," Maria said. This time Eric couldn't hold back the chuckle. I was barely more successful.

"Then we'll see you at two," I said, taking Maria's hand in mine. She waved, and Eric thanked her for the cookies again. Damn, he was a charming when he wanted to be.

***

"Mom, you look fine," Maria sighed. It was the third outfit I tried on. The first didn't fit me as well as it had four years ago. Another New Year's resolution was angrily brewing.

"Are you sure?" I asked, making her look again. It was slacks and a white blouse with a red button down Christmas sweater. In the mirror, it looked ancient. My closet hadn't seen much of the current fashions. I had no idea why it concerned me now.

"You look Christmassy." Of course, to a ten-year-old, it was all costume on Christmas day. It had been years since I had entertained at home and I wanted things to be perfect. I fiddled with the sleeves on my sweater, concerned that it may have shrunk. Maria was satisfied with her red dress and green stockings. It gave her a Santa's elf look.

The clock said 1:30, so I gave up and decided against another look in the closet. Maria set the table, and I went back to work in the kitchen. The smell was delightful and made me forget about clothing. Without Jake in our lives, it was rare that I cooked a large meal. I found it wonderfully challenging. A series of little tasks easily completed with tasty results. I wasn't the most inventive chef in the world, but with the standard staples, I owned the kitchen. Turkey, pumpkin pie, yams, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, crescent rolls. I was the holiday cooking queen, and it was marvelous to know I hadn't lost my touch.

"I got it!" Maria yelled when the doorbell rang. All my confidence vanished, and I looked down at my clothes. There had to be something better in my closet. Something that didn't scream out-of-touch moron. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, forcing the flitting rethinks from my head. It was only Eric, not some high society critic. His opinion of me had nowhere to go but up.

"What a lovely dress." I heard Eric's voice. The kind voice he seemed to have designed just for Maria.

"Thank you. I really like your sweater," Maria returned. "Mom, Mr. Papirius is here." As if we were expecting someone else. I plastered a hostess smile on my face and walked out of the kitchen.

In one arm, Eric held a bottle of wine with a red bow tied around its neck. In the other, a small present. What made my smile real, was the gaudiest Christmas sweater I had ever seen. Bright colors set in rows, each row containing a repetitive image such as snowmen, reindeer ,and a weak rendition of Santa Claus. Though red was the main theme, every color of the rainbow was included. It took all my willpower not to laugh.

"It looks like you have the Christmas spirit," I said, taking the wine off his hands.

"Seems my seasonal wardrobe needs some updating," Eric said, charming me with his smile. "I thought it more appropriate than a t-shirt."

"I think it's cool," Maria said.

"It's perfect," I said, no longer concerned with my own wardrobe. Without intending to, Eric had returned my confidence to me. Who would have thought an ugly Christmas sweater could possess so much power. And he wore it so well. A buzzer went off in the kitchen. "The rolls," I said, explaining my retreat.

"Would you like some help?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," I said, remembering the last time I struggled getting the turkey out of the pan and onto a platter. That and I suspected it was a polite offer he thought would be rejected. The stupid notion that it would be fun torturing him returned. Maybe it was the crazy sweater.

"Here, you take this, but you can't open it until later," I heard Eric tell Maria.

"It's for me!"

"Of course, that's what happens when you give a guy cookies." Eric was chuckling when he entered the kitchen. "It's so easy when they're young."

"What is?" I was pulling two trays of rolls out of the oven. Eric deftly lifted the door closed forestalling the kick I was planning.

"Making them smile." I looked over at him as I removed the oven mitts. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Though they never cease to amaze me when they get older." I handed him the oven mitts while I struggled at straighten my lips. His smile was enduring and full of trust. I wasn't sure I didn't prefer the scowl. At least I understood where I stood with Mr. Grumpy.

"Think you can get the Turkey on the platter?" I pointed to the large flowered platter on the breakfast table. It had been my mother's and always reminded me of Christmas when I was a child.

"Of course. Where do you stash your hot pads?" Eric moved with a purpose when I told him which drawer. He pulled out two and laid them next to the platter and moved directly to the oven. "Smells wonderful," He commented as he pulled the turkey from the oven. I had to turn away to keep my grin invisible. Luckily, I was busy with putting rolls into a basket.

"Do you have a wooden spoon?" Eric was busy pulling a few paper towels off the roll.

"Next drawer over," I said, pointing with my elbow. I looked back at breakfast table expecting to see some spilled juices. There was nothing I could see that needed paper towels. Eric carefully tucked the spoon into the cavity of the turkey and pulled the front up slightly. Using the paper towel, he placed his hand under the front and just lifted it with ease, unmarred onto the platter.

"You've done that before," I said. My smile was no longer hidden. It was far better than me stabbing forks into a guessed center of mass.

"One of my many skills," Eric boasted as he fed the garbage can with soiled paper towels.

"Like fixing ex-husbands." The words came out of my mouth before I could reconsider. My regret was instantaneous. I turned fully toward him, waiting to see what damage I've done.

"I admit I've done that before too. An ex-wife as well," Eric said with his back to me. "Usually I can remain more anonymous, but you're very resourceful." He turned toward me without a smile, but absent the scowl. "You caught me while you were checking up on Jake."

"I had to be sure. There have been promises before that turned into lies."

"There always are." Eric leaned against the counter, "I've gotten kind of good at fixing people, at least when there's still good parts left. My job allows me the time to commit to such endeavors, so I do."

"Why?"

"A promise I made to my wife, God rest her soul," Eric replied without hesitation. "She was a stubborn woman, so it was more like an oath." I shook my head.

"No, why us?"

"Same answer," Eric said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't believe I knew your wife," I pointed out.

"Nope, and she's a topic I would prefer we left for a non-Christmas day." His smile returned, and I let mine grow with his. His wife was the reason, as Terrance and I had suspected. I wanted to dig a little deeper into why he selected Jake as a target, but it felt like kicking a gift horse in the teeth. It was a little morbid to discuss his deceased wife on Christmas, so I let it be.

I opened a drawer and pulled out the carving knife and fork. "Will you do the honors?"

"You cook, and I carve. Looks like I got the easy part," Eric said as he relieved me of the tools.

"Maria, come help carry things to the table," I shouted.

Dinner was simply wonderful. Eric took great pleasure in keeping Maria talking about her life. By the end of the meal, he knew what grade she was getting in each subject, which teachers she liked, and who her best friends were. I took great pleasure in watching him eat. I had no idea how he kept trim with the amount of food he was putting away. Maybe he didn't eat well as a bachelor and was making up for it. Whatever the reason, I felt duly complemented by his appetite.

The wine was a perfect blend of fruitfulness that went well with the turkey. Never overpowering, only enhancing. I think Eric envisioned himself as a connoisseur as he explained why he chose the Spanish wine. He did have in-depth knowledge of the grapes and where they were grown. I, box-wine-girl, was suitably impressed.

"Can I open my present now?" Maria asked me. She had been waiting patiently which I found refreshing. I nodded.

"You really shouldn't have," I whispered to Eric while Maria was retrieving the gift. It must have been difficult for him to find something on Christmas day.

"The smile is worth it." Eric meant it. I supposed he was missing his son.

Maria sat down and went at the wrapping with the same relish she had that morning. She opened the box and was surprised to find another box, wooden this time. Carefully, she pulled it out and set it on the table. It looked like a mini crate and came with a miniature latch. Maria popped the latch, and I could see brief confusion wash her features when she lifted the lid.

"A Barbie, I love Barbies," Maria lied believably and lifted the box so I could see. It was in its original packaging and wasn't even that appealing of a Barbie. I almost felt sorry for Eric. Eric chuckled.

"I know you're too old for dolls," Eric said. "It isn't for playing, it's for collecting."

"Collecting?" Maria asked.

"It's a very special Barbie. One of the first off the line. If you keep it in that box and never pull it out, when you're older you can trade it in for something really really special." Eric said. "It's what I like to call a dream doll."

"What do you mean first off the line?" I asked.

"1959, from the first batch of Barbies ever made," Eric said nonchalantly.

"Oh," Maria said, this time her smile was real. She liked unique things, special things that others didn't have.

"That has to be worth a lot of money," I said, questioning the appropriateness of the gift.

"I have others," Eric said, waving away my concern. "It's what I do. What my family has always done. We collect things that we think time will assign a value too."

"But it must have cost you a lot of money," I pressed.

"My father bought it at Sears in '59, as soon as the sales began to take off. I inherited his collections when he passed away. He would be ecstatic that Maria has it in her hands right now. Half of what he collected was worthless, so sharing the victories makes them sweeter." Eric was sitting back as Maria realized how precious the doll was.

"Eric, it has to be worth hundreds," I pushed. Eric tightened his lips and widened his eyes. "More?"

"A lot more if sold sparingly. If I sold my whole collection at once, the price would drop significantly. The laws of supply and demand are alive and well in the collecting world. You see, the fact that she only has one makes it more valuable. The rest of the world doesn't need to know exactly how many others exist. Ten years from now, Maria will have her sights on something important. A doctorate, a house, a business, or some other dream that that doll can put a significant down payment on." Eric smiled softly, "If anything, it will increase the value of my collection when she puts a mint condition doll up for sale. It fosters the demand, primes the pump so to speak."

"I'm going to put it on my trophy shelf," Maria said, closing the box and running to her room. She must have sensed my reluctance, and this was her way of solidifying the gift.

"It's too much," I whispered.

"It's the risk one takes when you trick a man to dinner." Eric laughed.

"I didn't..."

"Don't even try. I did my best to keep my distance, and you used your daughter to break me down. Strategically, it was brilliant." Eric raised his hands up. "I surrender and am most grateful you feed your prisoners well." I tried to remain stoic. Instead, I laughed. It was the game I started, and though he admitted defeat, I still had the feeling I had somehow lost.