Broken Ornaments

 Broken Ornaments 

The morning of Christmas Eve, Tucker and I go to Kmart to pick up my pay. I decide to do some holiday shopping before I leave the store. The electric bill can wait until next week, damn it. I am giving Tucker a Christmas! I just hope the propane holds out that long.

When we get home, the driveway is so icy that I have to park at the bottom and trudge up the hill on foot, dragging an artificial Christmas tree box. Tucker carries the bag with the lights and ornaments, but the way he is banging it around, I’m afraid they will all be broken before we reach the trailer.

Tucker gets so excited when I start putting the tree together. He claps and jumps around, “Yay, Kissmas free! Yay Santa!”

I turn on some seasonal music, to put myself into a better mood, and I can’t believe it when I open the box of ornaments to find they are all still intact. "It’s a Christmas miracle," I chuckle to myself. $4.99 for eighteen, assorted color, glass ornaments. Quite the bargain. I think back to when we paid four times the price for a single ornament. The year Tucker was born, Eric and I picked out a porcelain teddy bear wearing blue pajamas. 'Baby’s First Christmas' was stenciled on it. We were so happy just to hang it on our tree. It was one of the first times that I felt Eric and I were no longer just a couple, but a family.

The ornament is packed in the storage unit now, and even if I could afford to pay up the rent to get into the unit, Eric has the only key.

While I string the lights, Tucker hangs all the balls on the bottom of the tree, looking up for approval before he places each one.

“That’s a good spot, Buddy.” 

I lift him up so that he can hang some higher on the tree, but he drops a red one and it breaks when it hits the carpet. 

Tucker looks at me with uncertainty, but instead of getting irritated, I just laugh and say, "Uh oh!".

“Uuuh ooh,” Tucker repeats, laughing, “uuh oooh!”

“Looks like we need the vacuum,” I tell him as I pick up the larger pieces.

Tucker gets excited again, “Vroom, vroom!” he says, and races to the closet; he won't have it any other way. Within seconds I hear fragments of glass ding as they are sucked up. If only it were so easy to clean up the fragments of our lives once they are broken.

I stand staring at the tree with nothing underneath it yet, and a huge wave of sorrow washes over me. I try to shake it off, grabbing Tucker’s hands, we dance to Jingle Bell Rock.

Tucker laughs as we spin and skip around the sparsely furnished room and I’m surprised to find myself laughing too. Strange how fast laughter can become unfamiliar when your world is breaking apart. I start to feel dizzy, and then I look up to see Eric standing in the hallway.

I stop spinning, nearly losing my balance as my head continues to whirl.

“Daddy!” Tucker cries, and Eric kneels down to meet our son with a hug.

He's wearing his black leather jacket, the one I got him last Christmas. He knows he’s irresistible in leather.

“Hey, Buddy, Daddy sure missed you.” he says with a warble in his voice. 

Suddenly I am afraid to move, afraid I’m dreaming, afraid that if he is really here, he didn’t come to see me. I stand motionless, feeling as delicate as a glass ball, about to fall from the tree.

“I knocked, but you didn’t hear….”

I nod, unable to speak, trying to catch my breath.

Eric closes his eyes as he squeezes Tucker tighter, “Can I sit down?”

“Of course.”

He unzips his jacket as he walks over to the drab green couch that my mom gave me. He sits with Tucker on his lap.

I sit down beside him, aching to touch him, but afraid my trembling hands will clench too tightly, breaking him in an anxious fist.

Tucker wiggles down and goes across the room, near the Christmas tree.

Eric cocks his head to one side, “What’s he doing?”

“I think he wants to show you… the vacuum cleaner,” I say as Tucker pushes it over to the couch.

“Vroom!” Tucker says; his eyes, beam a joyful blue.

Eric looks perplexed, “Yeah, Buddy. Vacuum cleaner.”

“Since… ah, well… he’s become very attached to the vacuum cleaner since we… ah… split up….” 

“Oh?” Eric looks at me with concern, then his eyes dip to my stomach, “What about the baby? I only got half the message you left yesterday.”

“The ah… the doctors said that the baby isn’t…” my voice becomes strained trying to choke back the pain, “growing like he should be.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Well, I have to go back in two weeks, and if he isn’t doing any better, they said they will have to take him early.”

“Early? You’re only twenty-nine weeks.”

I’m pleasantly surprised by the fact that he has kept track of how far along I am,

 “In two weeks I’ll be thirty-one weeks. The doctors say that he‘ll have a… a good chance by then.”

I watch Eric‘s face sink as the full impact hits him, “Did they say why he is so small?”

“Well, they said it could be due to a knot in the umbilical cord, but they didn’t find one during the ultrasound….”

Eric reaches over and touches my stomach tenderly, but quickly pulls his hand away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“That’s your son,” I pull his hand back, pressing it to a spot where the baby just kicked, “of course you should.”

The baby kicks again, and Eric smiles, “He’s got a strong kick.”

“Yes, he does.”

Tucker comes from the kitchen eating dry cereal and climbs back into Eric‘s lap.

Eric sits back and Tucker rests a tired head on his father’s chest, “You sleepy, Buddy?”

Tucker just rubs his eyes and tugs on his earlobe.

“He was up early this morning, so it’s about time for a nap.”

Eric pulls him closer and starts patting his back to put him to sleep.

I watch silently, afraid to breathe, as if exhaling could shatter this moment.

In no time at all, Tucker nods off.

“Which one is Tucker’s room?”

“The first door.”

When Eric comes back out, he sits on the very edge of the couch and I’m afraid he's going to make an excuse to leave. I desperately try to figure out how to get him to stay. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“I know we do,” I scoot closer, “but tell me first, have you missed me?”

Eric opens his mouth but doesn't say anything.

I lean into him, resting my hand on his thigh, “You missed me,” I breathe in his ear.

“Jodi, don’t start that,” he says, and I swear there is frost hanging on his breath.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I say moving back, rubbing my arms to smooth the gooseflesh, my eyes trained on the rug. I see fragments of the ornament. They are glinting at me, witnesses to my embarrassment. I close my eyes, “I don’t know where to start.”

“Neither do I.” 

I glance at the clock, “You’ll be leaving for work soon,” I say in frustration.

“No, I have the night off.”

“Then stay for dinner?”

“Well…”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Eric. You belong with Tucker on Christmas Eve.”

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward silence. I take a deep breath, “How about a glass of pop?”

“Sounds good.”

I make my way up from the couch with some difficulty, and Eric laughs at me.

“I know, I walk like a duck,” I say as I step into the kitchen.

“No, I was just remembering how big you got with Tucker.”

“And that is funny because?”

“You looked like a beach ball.” 

I giggle at the thought as I open the fridge, “Well, you try walking around with a ten pound baby inside of you.”

I turn to find Eric right beside me.

“I did miss you,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

I catch the leathery scent of his jacket, and desire for him pools inside of me. 

He sips the soda and looks out the bay window, “You have a great view of the valley from here.”

“You’re right,” it looks like a Christmas card framed by the window. “This is the first time I’ve really noticed it.” The wind blowing down over the hill has caused the snow to ripple; it looks like breakers on the ocean, cresting, but motionless. Further down the hill is the Pendleton’s vineyard; the twisted vines are bare and gray in the cold. A gust of wind lifts up some powdery crystals to make a white spire reaching for the heavens.

“It’s beautiful,” Eric says. He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulls something out, and hands it to me. It’s the porcelain teddy bear that we bought the year Tucker was born, “I think we should hang this on the tree.”

____________________________________________________________________________

So, it's obviously a true story; an excerpt from my autobiography. Only the names have been changed. 

Eric (Todd) and I reconciled that time. 

Tucker (Tate) is now 28 and has a child of his own. 

I was able to carry the baby (Graham) to full term. He's now 25.