Page 77 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Goddamn it all. “So I’m supposed to… what? Force them to dream big?”

Judy tilted her head to the side, looking like she was thinking. “Yes, actually. But mostly, they follow your example in everything, Tommy. What’s the last thing you asked for?” When Tommy opened his mouth, Judy raised her hand to stop him. “For yourself.”

Tommy couldn’t remember. Come to think of it, the only thing he’d ever asked for was forgiveness from Bobby on more than one occasion.

And really, when it came right down to it, he had more for himself now than he’d ever hoped for. Safe home, healthy kids, a little money in the bank, full-time work. And Bobby. Most of all, Bobby. “I don’t need anything else.” It took him a long time to say that.

“Wanting things is good, Tommy. Healthy, even.” When he started to say something else—not even he knew what that would be—Judy said, “There’s one more.” She looked at the last letter. “Collin says: I’d really like a puppy or a kitten. A dog might tear up the yard, though, so maybe just a kitten. I’d clean up after it and take care of it. I could even use my allowance for food and stuff so it wouldn’t cost extra. But the twins might get in the litter box. Maybe a cat or a dog is a bad idea. I’d really like one, but maybe it’s too much trouble. There’s a toy drive at school. Maybe I could just get something really cool to donate? It’s sad to think about all the kids out there who don’t have anything, even less than we used to. It would be awesome if we could make someone’s Christmas, know what I mean? PS, what should we get Tommy?”

He suddenly wished Judy really was trying to kill him. Who knew hearing Christmas lists could be the hardest part of a person’s day? Davey was smart enough—and shifty enough, frankly—to fake a slim Christmas list to pull a few sympathy strings, but he didn’t think that was the case. Tommy was learning that selflessness was a hard habit to break, especially when it had been instilled in you at birth.

Tommy stood suddenly, feeling restless and maybe even a little annoyed. He paced the floor once or twice and then paused in front of the tree. Lights sparkled against red garland, and dozens of ornaments hung from the branches. A pair of silver turtledoves caught his eye. They were wrapped in a banner with 1976 etched into the plating. “What’s this?”

Judy stood next to him and reached for the ornament. She touched it carefully, as if it might break, even though that didn’t seem possible. “Warren gave that to me on our first Christmas after we were married.” She sounded happy and sad at the same time.

On another branch close by, Tommy noticed a silver rattle with a green ribbon tied through the handle. The year of Bobby’s birth was etched into it. “Bobby’s first Christmas?”

Judy grinned and nodded. “And he made this one for me when he was five.” She reached higher and picked at a little glitter snowflake. Most of the glitter had fallen off, but it still sparkled. “Christmas trees aren’t just for decoration. They’re where we hang our hopes and dreams, our blessings, and our memories.”

How she could say all that and not cry was beyond Tommy. Even he was choking up. Between Judy and the kids, he wasn’t going to make it to the new year without some kind of emotional breakdown.

When Judy spoke again, Tommy glanced at her. “Every year, I take these out, and I remember what was happening in our lives. What Bobby looked like when he hung this on the tree for the first time. What my husband said to me our first year, when we were too poor for a real tree and he’d made one out of fallen branches, how he made me laugh. Christmas is family and love and hope for an even better tomorrow.”

In Tommy’s world, Christmas was an extra expense, a letdown, and a hassle.

But between the two of them, Tommy knew the kids deserved Judy’s version.

“I gotta get outta here.”

Judy watched, a surprised look on her face as Tommy made his quick retreat.

“Please think about it, Tommy.”

He only nodded in response, not sure she even saw him as he closed the door behind him.

The bells on the doorknob jingled cheerfully.

When he and Bobby had gone shopping early that morning, they’d decided on a one-stop trip at the local all-in-one store. Tommy had insisted.

Now, though, gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to throttle it, Tommy pulled into the mall parking lot.

He muttered to himself as he got out of the car, “I should tell ’em all I want a carton of Marlboros for Christmas.” He’d found a spot, but it was on the back lot, a hundred miles from the entrance. “I’d spend the day on the front porch, smoke the whole damn thing.” It’d been months since he caved and had one, but damn it all, when he tried to think of what he really wanted, that was all that came to mind. He decided to drop the train of thought before he broke down and bought himself a pack.

He didn’t feel like he had money to burn, not really, but when Tommy looked at the totals in his (first-ever) checking account, he felt like he’d won the lottery. Gene had made him a full-time bartender—complete with a nice raise and sometimes really nice tips—and Tommy had been saving his pennies ever since he’d moved in with Bobby. It was easy to do since the guy wouldn’t take anything for rent. “I don’t even pay rent. Why the hell should you?” Bobby had said, and he had a point there, but it still felt wrong sometimes, felt like charity.

Tommy paused as he pulled open the heavy glass door to the main entrance and wondered if there would be anything left of his savings when the day was done. Thinking back on the lists the kids have given Judy, he decided it didn’t matter. Judy wasn’t about to kick them out in the streets, and even if her house burned to the ground too, Tommy wagered that—unlike them—she was heavily insured.

For the first time in his life, Tommy O’Shea chose not to worry about what fresh hell was lurking around the corner. He decided to teach the kids to dream big.

Or at least to dream medium.

Several hours later, Tommy sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by paper and ribbon and bows. He’d managed to wrap about half of the presents by the time Bobby came home.

“You’ve been busy.” Bobby kicked off his shoes, pausing to lean down for a kiss before he made his way to their bedroom.

“Had the night off, remember?”

Bobby grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. He was used to finding Tommy in the middle of something when he came home at the end of a shift. On his days off, Tommy cleaned gutters and scraped moss off the roof, mowed the lawn, and did anything else he could think to do. Living most of his life under a cloud of frantic worry with one fucking crisis after another dogging him day in and day out had turned Tommy into a restless ball of energy when he wasn’t busy.

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