Page 7 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
Bertie: I’m REALLY sorry for the vibrator comment. I might’ve gotten into the whine. Oops.
Bertie: Wien
Bertie: WINE
I’m grinning at my phone like a lunatic. She’s fucking adorable.
Me: I am sorry they ditched you. It was shitty of them.
Bertie: What can I say, they’re shitty parents.
I read over her message a few times, a lump in my throat, before I respond.
Me: Sometimes people who become parents are kind of clueless about how to do the job. There isn’t a handbook.
Bertie: If I ever become a mom, I don’t want to be like mine. Is that horrible of me?
Me: Based on what your mom sounds like, not at all.
Bertie: I want to be there for my kid. Stick their scribbled drawings on the fridge and cry when they go to their first day of school and pack lunches and go to school plays and… I just want to be THERE, ya know?
I do. And I know how lucky I am to have a parent who has always been there for me, despite how hard she works. Even now, she never misses a home hockey game. It wasn’t cheap, keeping me outfitted in hockey gear as I grew up. She had to get a lot of my stuff secondhand. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever know how much she sacrificed so that I didn’t have to go without.
Me: Yeah, I know what you mean.
Bertie: Now that you know how shitty my family is, tell me about yours.
Smiling at my phone, I roll onto my side. I’m not even sure why I’m smiling like a fucking goober except that I’m talking to Bertie. Something about this girl makes me downright giddy.
Me: My dad has never really been in the picture. He’s popped up from time to time over the years, but I’ve never viewed him as a fatherly figure. He gives off more of a fun uncle vibe, I guess. My mom is amazing, though. She got pregnant at eighteen and raised me on her own when her family wrote her off. She’s my best friend.
Bertie: My first instinct is to tell you that it’s incredibly cheesy that your mom is your best friend, but honestly, I’m jealous. You’re lucky to have her.
Me: I know it. Who did you have, B?
Even though she’s not here with me, I swear I can hear her sigh.
Bertie: I had myself and my dolls, and once in a while, I had a good nanny.
Bertie’s family might have more money than I can comprehend, but right about now, it’s hard not to feel like I’m the privileged one. Money is great and all, but being genuinely loved and cared for is better.
Me: That’s… kind of sad.
Bertie: It’s totally pathetic, but you asked, and it’s the truth.
Bertie: Sometimes I think if I didn’t call my parents, they’d forget about me entirely.
Me: I’m sure that’s not true.
Or maybe it is. But I don’t want to agree with her. She’s clearly already wallowing in her feelings. There’s no use making it worse.
Bertie: It totally is, but it’s okay.
Bertie: Actually, it’s not okay, but it is what it is. When I have kids, I’ll make sure they know how special and loved they are.
My heart breaks thinking about little Bertie just wanting love and affection from her parents and receiving none of it. It’s probably a miracle she turned out to be so sweet and kind.
Me: I’m sure you’ll be a good mom one day.
