Page 90 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Asher nodded eagerly. “Yes, I’m not going to miss it again. I didn’t like watching it the next day. I want to stay up and watch it with you guys.”
“Okay,” my dad said. His tone was very similar to mine back in the grocery store.
Asher narrowed his eyes. “How come you and Dad both say it like that?”
My father’s eyes widened innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I chuckled. “Say it like what?”
“Like you’re singing a bad song.”
My father and I burst out laughing, and Asher soon joined in with giggles of his own.
I put my now empty bowl of spaghetti down on the coffee table and clasped my hands behind my head. “Maybe Grandpa and I just know you really well, Ash. And we know that as soon as ten o’clock rolls around, you fall asleep. Just like that.” I snapped my fingers.
Asher shook his head. “Not tonight. I can do it.”
“I’m sure you can. But if you can’t, don’t feel bad. Sleep is important. And all you’ll be missing is a glittery ball falling. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”
“What?” Asher asked incredulously. “It sounds awesome.”
“I think it’s pretty awesome,” my father chimed in. “And it’s tradition. That’s the most important part. We watch this every year.”
“Indeed,” I said.
After everyone was done with their dinner, I collected the bowls and loaded them into the dishwasher. I listened to my father and Asher goof around in the living room as I packed up the leftover spaghetti sauce and put it in the freezer to heat up another night.
I gave the kitchen counters a quick wipe down and turned in a slow circle to make sure all the mess was cleaned up. The kitchen was sparkly clean after another fifteen minutes or so, and when I was done, I went back out into the living room.
I stopped at the end of the couch and smiled.
My father was still sitting in his usual corner, and Asher was lying down beside him with his head on a pillow propped up against my father’s hip.
My father shrugged. “Like clockwork, this kid.”
I glanced at my watch and nodded. “Not even ten o’clock this year. He missed it by half an hour.”
My father chuckled. “He’ll see it one year.”
My father and I stayed up until midnight and watched the ball drop, just the two of us, as we had every year since Claire died. After the clocks rolled over and twenty nineteen became a reality, I scooped Asher up in my arms and lifted him up off the couch. My father got to his feet. “I think I’m going to head home,” he said. “I’ll be back early tomorrow morning. I know you probably have a lot of work you’d like to catch up on.”
“If that’s all right with you, I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem for me, Cal.”
“Drive safe. There’ll be a lot of crazies out on the road driving home after their parties.”
He nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”
My father and I said goodbye, and I carried Asher upstairs to his bedroom. I tucked him into bed, mindful not to jostle him around and wake him up. He’d be disappointed that he missed the ball drop, especially after so much hype. He really had seemed convinced that he’d be able to stay awake this year.
I doubted he’d pull it off for a couple more years at least. My son liked his sleep.
Once he was under the blankets, he rolled onto his side, putting his back to me. I ran my fingers through his hair, leaned over, and kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, Ash. Happy New Year.”
I got up. His bed creaked as my weight lifted off it, and I padded quietly across the carpet to the hallway. As always, I left the door open a crack.
I was about to slip into my room when someone knocked on my front door.
