Jingle All the Way Read online

  He shook his head. “Who shoveled the driveway?”

  “We all did,” Laura said, smiling at him as if she hadn’t been a basket case that morning, as if they hadn’t had one of their worst fights the night before.

  “And we all made the snowman,” Justin said. “But Mommy wouldn’t let us knock it down ’cause you didn’t get a chance to see it. Can we knock it down after supper?”

  “Nooo,” Mary wailed. “I love the snowman. Daddy, don’t let him knock it down.”

  Brian hunkered down to Mary’s level. “Don’t worry, we won’t knock it down. If Justin wants to knock down a snowman, he can build his own and knock that down.”

  Once the kids were out of the kitchen, Brian turned to Laura, who stood there as if she hadn’t a worry in the world. She was actually smiling at him and wearing an apron that hadn’t seen the light of day since the day her mother gave it to her. As a joke.

  “Don’t think a snowman and some lasagna is going to make everything all right. It won’t.”

  She looked as guilty as O.J. Simpson. “I thought it might be a start.”

  “I’m not really hungry anyway,” he said, hating that he sounded like a jerk, even though he knew she deserved it. The things she’d said the night before, the way she’d looked at him, screaming in front of the kids, swearing. He couldn’t forget that. He wouldn’t.

  Laura watched him walk out of the kitchen, only slightly amazed that he could reject a good lasagna. They must have had one hell of a fight recently. Man, they used to fight. “I’ll save some for you,” she said cheerfully. “The portion without the arsenic if you’re nice.”

  “Don’t bother,” he yelled back.

  It didn’t bother her. She figured if he was mad at her, she deserved it, and she was so separated from whatever stupid thing they’d fought about, it didn’t make a difference to her.

  She’d married Brian because he’d been so kind, so mellow. It was only later she found out he could be tough and unforgiving.

  She and the kids ate the lasagna pretending Brian’s absence at the table was no big deal. It wasn’t too bad; not as good as she remembered, but not bad. The kids ate it, even Justin, because she let them have chocolate milk with it mostly to satisfy her own strange craving for the stuff. Just to bug Brian, she made him a big plate and put it in the fridge for later with a note stuck to it with tape. “I promise it’s not poisoned,” she’d written. “Much.” He just might smile, and Laura knew that if she could only get a smile out of him, she’d be halfway to getting him back. If she had a chance.

  What if God was just giving her a glimpse of her life before sending her down to hell? What if her epiphany had merely been wishful thinking? What if she’d only been granted this single day to remind her of how blessed she’d been?

  Bedtime was tough, those little kids in their jammies all scrubbed and sleepy. She didn’t want to scare them, even though she was terrified inside that she’d never get the chance to hold them again. She might wake up dead in the morning, or worse, alive and in the hospital, so she held her kids as if it were the last time.

  “Mom, you’re choking me,” Zack complained, but when she pulled back he was grinning.

  “I just love you so much,” she said, trying not to sound overly dramatic.

  “Me, too?” Justin asked, even though she’d thought he was already asleep.

  “Big time, buddy.” She gave him a big kiss, swallowing down a huge lump that had formed in her throat. “You guys are the best.” She closed her eyes against the image of them as teenagers who were so lost to her, of the tattoos and piercings and the coldness in their eyes. She closed their door, praying to a God she’d forgotten existed that she’d wake up in the morning and she’d still be here.

  Once the kids were in bed she went to find Brian, knowing he’d be in his office reading. Escaping. She’d never thought of it as that, but now she realized that was exactly what he’d been doing all those years.

  “Hey.”

  He sat in his leather chair, his feet propped up on a matching ottoman, the glow of the nearby lamp softening his features. When he heard her voice, he straightened up, not bothering to hide his irritation at being interrupted.

  “Whatcha reading?” It was one thing she remembered: how to bug him. She was an expert.

  He let out a beleaguered sigh. “Laura, just go to bed.”

  “Not tired,” she said, and plopped herself down on the love seat across from him. She watched him read for a good five minutes, his attention so completely on the pages in front of him Laura knew he was making a huge effort not to look up. “Good book?”

  “The latest Grisham. It’s okay.” He didn’t spare her a glance.

  “I haven’t read a book in ages,” she said without thinking. About the only thing she had read was someone’s discarded newspaper or the label on Mad Dog telling her that drinking alcohol could lead to health problems.

  “You had your nose in a book the other night.”

  “I meant a good book.”

  She watched him try to ignore her and begin reading again and wondered if she should go to bed. The thing was, she wasn’t tired, not a bit. She hadn’t felt so energetic in years. Decades. It was that young blood pounding through her veins, blood that hadn’t yet forgotten what it felt like to have the man in front of her naked next to her. In her. Laura let out a sigh.

  “What.” Pure impatience and anger was in that single syllable.

  “I’m bored. You want to play chess?”

  He stared at her a good long time before turning back to his book.

  “When was the last time we played chess?” she persisted. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she detected the tiniest quirk near his mouth. “I know I always lose, but maybe I’ll get—” She stopped dead, a flash of memory hitting hard. Laura and Brian had played chess many times, with Laura losing nearly every match—until the day Laura decided to make things more interesting with a little game of strip chess. Every time Brian captured one of Laura’s pieces, she had to remove an article of clothing. It didn’t take long before she was sitting there with not much more than a big smile on her face—looking at a completely naked husband who’d just conceded the match. They’d made love right there on the floor amongst their scattered clothes.

  “I don’t think chess is a good idea,” Brian said, his voice flat, and Laura knew she must have imagined that almost smile. He’d probably been irritated.

  “Brian?”

  He slammed his book down so forcefully, Laura let out a small squeak. “Jesus, Laura, go to bed.”

  It was strange, but Laura was oddly unfazed by his outburst, other than the surprise of it. “You’re just scared you’ll lose again. And what would you do then, huh, Brian?”

  Other than the flare of his nostrils, he made no indication he’d heard her. But Laura knew he had, knew she just might be getting under his skin. She only hoped that was a good thing.

  After Laura left, Brian put down the book he’d been pretending to read and let out a long breath. What the hell had gotten into his wife? Damn, he was tired. He never knew when he came home at night which Laura he’d find waiting there. Tonight was perhaps the cruelest of all, because Laura seemed so close to how she used to be. He couldn’t let himself be drawn in by her; he refused to be taken in by a single day of sanity.

  Brian pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. “Don’t do it, don’t,” he said fiercely to himself. How many times had he forgiven her only to have his heart ripped viciously out of his chest. Man, she could bring him down if he let her. But he wouldn’t. Not this time. He might ride it out for as long as he could for the kids, but he’d be damned if he let himself fall again. No way.

  He didn’t love her anymore; she’d been right about that this morning. It was a good thing, too, because when she’d told him that, it was as if she didn’t care one way or another. “You don’t love me,” she’d said, like some shrink making a clinical observation. It would have hurt
not too long ago. But now he was over it. Over her.

  He settled back into his chair and picked up his book, telling himself he was relieved this hell was almost over. And let his gaze drift up to the ceiling and follow her footsteps to bed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  December 16

  Laura slept alone and woke up alone. But she woke up young and to the sounds of her kids tramping down the stairs, her personal alarm clock. This, whatever this was, definitely was not a drug-induced hallucination, a thought that produced a wide grin.

  “Still here,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, letting her face hurt from smiling so much. Laura gave herself a good ol’ pinch for the fun of it, laughing aloud. She felt refreshed and remarkably happy for a woman whose husband had hidden divorce papers somewhere. It didn’t matter: she was still here, she could hug her kids, see their smiles. Stretching and yawning she looked around her room, feeling something wonderful, something almost like contentment. And hope.

  Then her eyes settled on an old mahogany cigar box her mother had given her when she was eight years old, a memory box. She hadn’t seen it in years, couldn’t recall what had happened to it. She’d lost it somewhere and hadn’t cared at the time because it had become a mockery of sorts, a reminder of a woman who no longer existed. Her mother had given it to Laura six months before she died, and it was only when she was an adult that Laura realized her mother had known she was dying. When her mother had given it to Laura, it had been empty but for a picture of the two of them sitting on the front steps of their house, laughing as if they’d been tickling each other. That picture was as lost as the rest of her memories.

  But there the box sat, as it always had, under her nightstand table. She hesitated a moment, afraid that this box somehow held the key to the reason she had been given this gift. She let out a small sound of surrender, then hoisted it up to her lap and opened the lid. What silly, stupid things to save: a poem she’d written when she was ten, a bottle cap, a theater ticket, a Red Sox rain ticket, a note from Brian that made her smile every time she read it because it was so damned unromantic. “I love you no shit.”

  She went through, her eyes burning, knowing that nothing in that box was really worth saving except the picture of her mother, and knowing she’d been a fool to lose it. Not that it would have made a difference in her real life. She closed the lid with a small click just as Mary burst through the door clutching her little bunny.

  “I want Dinosaur Eggs,” she said as she flung herself onto the bed.

  “Me, too,” Laura said, making Mary giggle. “I am going to have Dinosaur Eggs. Mmm.” It was strange, but since she’d woken up back home she’d had the weirdest cravings for kid food, like chocolate milk and Dinosaur Eggs. For a snack the night before, she’d poured herself a bowl of Captain Crunch.

  The two headed to the kitchen, surprising Brian, who was in the process of pouring cereal for the two boys. He was dressed in his “uniform”: Dockers, white oxford cotton shirt, conservative striped tie. Once in a while he’d go a little crazy and wear a blue or yellow shirt. His brown hair was short, his face cleanly shaven. His hazel eyes . . . hostile.

  “You’re up early,” he said, and Laura didn’t miss the implied criticism that she usually slept late. Man, he was being a bastard. Maybe that’s why she drank so much all those years ago, Laura thought.

  She chose to ignore his jibe and gave him a brilliant smile instead, almost laughing at the stunned expression on his face. She knew he fully expected her to take the bait and be bitchy, but she was feeling much too happy to get into a fight. Besides, it was fun throwing him off balance. When she was through with him, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Laura looked at the calendar, noting with a small twinge of panic that she only had nine days to work her magic on Brian. “Hey, it’s Tuesday. Family night at Sal’s. Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight. When was the last time we all went out?”

  The kids all let out a cheer, and Brian looked as though he wanted to kill her, which made her smile even broader.

  “I may have to work late,” he said, his cheeks turning ruddy with the lie. The kids all booed, and Laura joined in, forcing a reluctant smile out of him. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

  “Tonight,” Laura persisted. “Tonight. We’ll save ten percent and get free ice cream.”

  The kids started chanting: “Tonight, tonight.”

  Brian gave her a hassled look before relenting as she knew he would. “Fine. Just have the kids ready. And if you’re not ready,” he said to Laura with a strange inflection and an icy look, “we’ll go without you. Right?”

  She knew exactly what that look meant, and for a minute it bothered her. A lot. He wanted her sober, and that was just fine by her. She hadn’t had a drink yesterday, and she wouldn’t today. This body, this Laura, was a light weight compared to the old lush she became. She hadn’t even felt the smallest twinge yesterday, hadn’t even given it a thought. Come to think of it, that was a bit odd, but she wasn’t about to question why.

  Sal’s was a mediocre Italian restaurant people kept going to out of habit rather than any real desire for the food. Its high-backed booths formed a perimeter around a salad bar Sal had installed when they were the rage back in the eighties. It was the last cutting-edge thing Sal had ever done. Laura remembered going to the restaurant when she was a kid, and she was pretty certain that other than the prices, not a lot had changed.

  The kids loved the place, though, because the booth tables were covered with blank newsprint and the waitress always gave them a handful of crayons.

  Laura wanted to go to the restaurant for all those reasons, but especially because Sal’s would close in a few years. She wanted to warn old Sal that his sons wouldn’t keep his legacy but sell it to the highest bidder: a New Age holistic medical center.

  When Laura walked in with her family, the old worn restaurant looked like a little bit of heaven. Gennaro, the oldest son, stood at the cash register, and Laura was about to give him a little talk about family and tradition, but stopped when she saw his face. He looked completely miserable with dark circles beneath his eyes and frown lines bracketing his mouth that even the most miraculous holistic medicine wouldn’t touch. He looked like a man living a life sentence. Funny, in her memories, Sal’s had always been such a happy place.

  True enough, when Gennaro caught sight of the family, he beamed them a smile and welcomed them in a way that made them feel as if they’d been missed. That’s what Laura had remembered; that’s what she’d seen as a young woman. But now she saw a man made old before his time chained to a life he had no choice in making.

  “It’s good to be back,” Laura said, and smiled at the truth of that statement.

  Gennaro led them to a large booth, and they all slid in: Laura, Justin, and Mary on one side, Brian and Zack on the other. Brian hadn’t looked at her all night, hadn’t commented on the makeup she rarely wore and had carefully applied.

  “I know what I want,” Brian said, pushing the menu toward the center of the table.

  “I want a hot dog,” Justin said, a mutinous expression on his face.

  “They don’t have hot dogs,” Zack said.

  “They make the meatballs out of hotdogs,” Laura said, giving Brian an exaggerated wink. “Why don’t you get the spaghetti and hotdog meatballs.”

  Justin smiled because he knew his mother was being silly. “Okay.”

  Gennaro came back, pad in hand, and took everyone’s order. “And to drink?”

  All three kids called out, “Chocolate milk.”

  “That’s four chocolate milks and a beer for him,” Laura said, jerking her thumb at Brian. “Unless you want chocolate milk, too?”

  Brian didn’t look amused.

  “I guess not. Four milks and a Bass Ale.”

  “You can have a glass of wine, Laura.”

  Laura blinked. “I want chocolate milk.”

  “Don’t blame this one on me.”

  “I’m not. I rea
lly, really want chocolate milk.”

  “ ’Cause I never said you couldn’t have a glass of wine.”

  She propped her chin on her hand and narrowed her eyes. “I know.” She gave him her most dazzling smile, which, of course, made him frown even more deeply.

  “What the hell kind of game is this?” he asked, but Laura sensed he was getting less and less irritated by the second.

  She leaned forward slightly. “It’s the ‘I want chocolate milk game.’ ”

  “I wanna play,” Mary said, and finally he smiled.

  “When are you going to give me a smile like that?” Laura asked, and she could only laugh when he forced his smile away. “You’re losing it, Brian.”

  “Losing what?”

  “That hatin’ feelin’,” she said, breaking into the old Righteous Brothers’ hit. “You lost that hatin’ feeling. Oh-oh that hatin’ feeling. You lost that hatin’ feeling now it’s gone, gone, gone.”

  “Will you quit it?” Brian asked almost good-naturedly. “You’re ruining one of my favorite Hall and Oates’ songs.”

  “Ugh! It’s a Righteous Brothers’ song.”

  “Hall and Oates did it better,” he said, sounding so normal, so much like the man Laura fell in love with.

  “You are so wrong.” Those words hung there, suspended, until Brian looked down at his place setting.

  “Brian?”

  He looked up, and Laura thought, or maybe she imagined, something more than the indifference she saw there just a day ago. “You’re not always wrong. Just mostly.” She smiled and tilted her head, searching for something in those beautiful hazel eyes of his. Then he turned as Gennaro approached their table with a Bass Ale and four chocolate milks.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  December 17

  Tammy Booker had been Laura’s best friend until things had gone so wrong Laura hadn’t even cared that Tammy was no longer there to cry with. And party with.