Page 87 of When Ben Loved Tim
“Can I go over to Tim’s house now?” I say when I find myself alone in the kitchen my mom.
“Oh!” She glances around, as if searching for an excuse to keep me there. “I suppose that’s fine. When will you be back?”
“In a few days,” I say vaguely.
“So many nights?” she asks before shaking her head. “That’s too long, honey.”
“Mom! We went over this already. Besides, you said that I’m eighteen now and can make my own decisions. I don’t have school until after New Year’s so…”
“I know, but the holidays are stressful, and it’s not fair to expect Tim’s family to take care of you all week long. Why don’t you alternate? Spend a night there and then a night here.”
Is she really trying to change the plan at the last minute? I feel my temper rise before I notice the transparent need in her eyes. This isn’t about restraining me. She wants to see her son on the last Christmas we’ll have together before I go to college.
“Spend the night there and come home tomorrow,” she presses. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to see each other over the holidays.”
She doesn’t understand. “We need this time together,” I explain. “He’s still trying to figure everything out, and that’s hard to do with other people around. And besides…” I’m hesitant, but I trust my mom, so I let her in on the secret. “His parents are out of town.”
“No!” she says in shock. “That can’t be right! How long will they be gone?”
She looks distraught. Maybe I made a mistake by confiding in her. Too late now. “Until next week.”
“Why? Was there an emergency?”
“No,” I say, surprised that I haven’t received a scathing lecture yet. “There’s some ski lodge his mom likes going to. It’s a tradition.”
“They’ve done this before?” my mother cries. “Your father could surprise me with a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the moon, and I wouldn’t go if it meant leaving you children on the holidays!”
“I think it’s messed up too,” I say, “but not everyone has awesome parents like I do.”
The flattery is wasted on my mother, her features crinkling. “Does he have any siblings? Or family in the area? You said they just moved here.”
“He’s all by himself,” I say from around a tight throat. “On Christmas Day.”
“Then what are you still doing here?” My mother rushes to a cabinet and starts pulling out Tupperware. “The poor boy is probably starving!” She hands a plastic container to me. “Fill that with roasted potatoes. Does he like green beans?”
Her generosity results in two stacks of Tupperware that I can’t possibly carry on my own. “I’ll give you a ride,” my mother says when I point this out.
That means she’ll be able to find me. She knows he lives a couple of blocks over, but not his exact address.
“Hurry up and put on your shoes,” she prompts, as if I’m letting her down by still being there. I don’t rush from the room though. Instead I hug her. “Thanks, Mom.”
She squeezes in return. “You can pay me back by stopping by on occasion. You don’t have to stay long. Bring him with you. I just want to see my baby on the holidays.” She presses a hand to her chest and shakes her head again. “How could his mother not feel the same way? I simply can’t imagine!”
I’m not only grateful for her understanding but for the sympathy she’s shown, because it casts Tim’s situation in a different light. I usually rejoice when learning that his parents will be out of town. From now on I’ll think more about how it makes him feel. I can’t wait to get over there. My love for him knows no bounds. I’m certain I can give enough to make up for whatever he’s missing.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey,” Tim says when answering the door. Then he notices the two large shopping bags I’m carrying—the kind from department stores—and seems taken aback. “Whoa! What’s all that?”
“Mostly food from my mom,” I say, tilting my head toward the street, where a car is idling.
My mother rolls down the window. “Merry Christmas, Tim!” she shouts.
He smiles and waves before returning the greeting. I bet it’s the most festive moment of his day so far, because after taking the bags from me and leading the way inside, I notice just how somber the house is. Most of the curtains are shut. I walk into the murky gloom of the living room, where a Christmas tree hasn’t been lit. Beneath it, a dozen gifts remain unopened.
“This won’t do at all,” I say before rifling through one of the bags Tim holds. I take out the gift I got him. “The rest goes to the kitchen,” I instruct.
“Aye-aye, Captain,” he replies.
