Page 88 of A World Without You
“Yep. It says, ‘Merry Christmas.’” She runs a tiny finger along the letters on the mug that absolutely do not say that.
“Very good,” Bennett says, overly impressed.
I shake my head as we meet each other’s eyes. “Liar,” I mouth to him, and he shrugs again.
“All right. The most important part: marshmallows,” he says, clapping his hands together before grabbing the bag from the pantry. Bennett and Josie count the marshmallows together as he drops each one in until they reach ten.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“What do you mean that’s it?” he asks, counting ten marshmallows for mine.
“I mean, just ten marshmallows?”
“Daddy says it’s the perfect ratio,” Josie throws in, and I practically shoot fire at him with my eyes.
“Oh, come on,Daddy, measure with your heart.” I grab the bag of marshmallows, take a fistful, and drop it in Josie’s mug. She giggles as the marshmallows topple over the brim. I repeat the action for his mug and mine.
His nostrils flare, and his cheeks flush, but I can tell he’s restraining a smile. He turns around to avoid showing me his pearly whites and starts digging through the drawer next to the stovetop. “Candy cane, anyone?”
“Yes, please!” Josie says with a mallow mustache.
He unwraps one and gives it to her to plunk in her hot chocolate.
“Why do we only eat candy canes during Christmas?” she asks, sucking the red stripes off the end of the candy cane.
“Well, what is Christmas?” Bennett asks, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
“Jesus’s birthday!” she shouts with bright eyes.
“Right. And what happens if you flip a candy cane upside down?”
He waits for her to turn her candy cane upside down and reveal the shape it is. “It’s a J! For Jesus!”
My jaw drops. “I’ve never heard of this,” I remark in genuine surprise.
“And what did Jesus do for us on Easter?” Bennett continues to preach gently.
“Die!” she shouts, and I snort into my hot chocolate because I’m immature, and it’s funny when a five-year-old shouts that word with that much excitement.
Bennett breathes out like he’s about to laugh but doesn’t. “Right again. So they say the white represents the body of Christ and the red represents the blood of the lamb.”
I swallow a halfway-melted marshmallow and peer at him over the counter. “That’s kind of cool. I just thought they were festive.”
“That too.” He shrugs with a half-smirk.
Josie has grown quiet as she examines the half-eaten candy cane in her hand. “Wait. So you mean to tell me these areJesus’s bones?!?” She doesn’t even remotely hide her disgust or her shock.
“Oh, no, it’s just a metaphor—” Bennett scrambles to explain the concept, but Josie has already started gagging. Her brow sweats, and her eyes water and the veins in her neck bulge.
“Oh! No!” I exclaim as the gagging amplifies into the dry heaves I’ve only ever experienced with Bowser, the dog I had with Graham. Thinking quickly, I grab the bowl of oranges off the counter and dump them out—they scatter across the counter and tumble to the floor—I place the bowl under Josie’s chin just as she yaks up her hot chocolate and bits of marshmallow and candy. Bennett’s next to his daughter now, holding back her hair and rubbing her back while I still keep the bowl in front of her.
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he coaxes softly.
Josie doesn’t stop. “I’m—”gag“sorry—”gag“Daddy—”gag.
It’s oddly precious that she’s trying to apologize for a human reflex—one I’m also experiencing due to catching someone’s vomit in a bowl. I stuff my nose in my sweater, and my eyes water, but I hold in every gag. Bennett looks at me and mouths,don’t you dare puke.
I blink and shake my head, focusing on Josie. Bennett barely reacts; he just hushes her softly, and when her stomach is finally empty, he takes the bowl from me to dispose of its contents down the toilet, and I get a warm washcloth for her face.
