Page 8 of Grinchland
“I don’t care,” he called back as he continued down the walkway.
When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to come back and tell me this was all a joke, some strange form of new-resident hazing, I humphed and hurried back inside. With the door shut behind me, I slumped against it. Was he serious? Was I really going to get fined if I tried to celebrate Christmas?
Was that legal?
The numbers in my bank account weren’t going to support the amount of Christmas that just spilled out of me when I wasn’t even trying. And it was December. The month I got to be…me.
I crossed my arms and stared at the floor. This had to be a joke. “You can’t outlaw Christmas…right?” I whispered.
FIVE
SILAS
My morning alarm beeped right at 6 a.m. I flipped to my side and found my phone and silenced it. I was already awake.
Mornings were the worst. It was in the morning, when the house was quiet and dark, that I missed Nicole the most. We used to spend this time just her and I, shutting out the world. She’d get up and exercise before my alarm would go off. Then, when she’d come back into the room, she’d kiss me good morning before taking a shower.
Sometimes, I’d join her. Sometimes, I’d lounge in bed, enjoying the sight of my wife coming out of the bathroom, wet and wrapped in a towel. We’d make love or just talk as we got ready. Then we’d eat breakfast and head off to work.
I sighed as I stared up at the dark ceiling above me. My arms were flopped down by my sides. Most days, I managed to get myself up and out of bed before the wallowing could start. But for some reason, Nicole’s memory was more poignant than it had been in months.
Maybe it had to do with Clara, Linda’s new renter. Her zeal for Christmas reminded me of Nicole. She would look forward to December with a wonder and awe that I was a tad jealous of. The only thing in my life that came close to making me feel that way was...Nicole.
Three years later, the hole in my heart felt as big as on the night she passed away.
I pressed my fingertips into my eyes as I forced myself back to the present. I had a little girl who needed her father. I couldn’t start spiraling now.
Needing a distraction, I pulled off my covers and padded over to the bathroom. I took a hot shower and quickly shaved. Once I was clean, I dressed in a black suit, styled my hair, and then headed out into the hallway.
Isabelle was already up and playing with her dolls on the floor of her room. She was still in her nightgown, and her hair was ratted on one side. The braid I’d put in last night, although lopsided, had managed to contain most of it while she slept. I wasn’t a hair stylist by any means, but if it meant keeping the tears and the wailing down to a minimum the next day, I would attempt anything.
“Good morning, peanut,” I said as I moved to join her on the floor.
Isabelle glanced up at me for only a moment before she returned her gaze to her dolls. They were facing each other, and it seemed as if they were deep in conversation about something serious from the way Isabelle kept her voice hushed and her eyebrows drawn together.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I dipped down to catch her attention.
“Shh, Jenny and Brooke are fighting,” she whispered, not bothering to look up at me as she shifted one of the dolls side to side like it was talking.
Her voice was so soft, I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. So after a few minutes of observing, I decided to push her again. “What are they fighting about?”
Isabelle paused, her focus on the ground before she set both dolls to the side, drew her legs up to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees. “Catalina didn’t invite me to her party,” she said before she closed her eyes and jutted out her lip.
A protective surge rose up inside of me. “What? Why?”
Isabelle didn’t speak right away. Instead, she just sat there in a clammed up little ball. I knew she was processing, and it was taking all of my strength not to pull her into my lap and hold her.
“Belly,” I said as I tucked her hair behind her ear. “The princess can tell the dragon anything she wants.”
A few weeks ago while reading Isabelle a story, she declared that I was not the prince but the dragon who guarded the princess. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I loved the imagery it gave.
She sniffled as she lifted her head to look at me. “She just said that I couldn’t come. It’s at her grandma’s house in some city.” Her blinking grew more rapid, like she was trying to keep her tears from falling.
“Well, I bet it’s going to be a boring party where they clean toilets and eat broccoli.” She wrinkled her nose, and I matched it. “You don’t really want to go do that, do you?”
She shook her head. “Blech.”
I nodded. “Blech is right.” I reached out and pulled her onto my lap, where I gave her a big squeeze. I was going to comfort my daughter now, but I had every intention of confronting Catalina’s mother to ask why she was leaving my daughter out of this party. If she thought she was going to exclude my Isabelle, she had another thing coming.
