Better Not Cry (Rebekka Franck Book 8) Page 10

  "Life has to go on, right?" she said. "Besides, my girls deserve a good Christmas this year."

  Sydney's' younger sister, Trisha, had beamed with happiness and so had Sydney. They had then decided to bike to the mall and start buying presents. So far, they had been everywhere, Macy's, Sears, Dillard's and still they hadn't found the right thing for their mother. Trisha had found many things she believed would be excellent presents, but Sydney wanted it to be perfect. This year was going to be absolutely perfect. Sydney knew her mother didn't have much strength to arrange everything, so she would take it upon herself to do whatever she couldn't. All Sydney wanted was to give her baby sister a real Christmas. She deserved it. This year had been tough on her.

  "Let's go in here," Sydney said and pointed at JC Penney. Once inside, she grabbed a dress and pulled it out into the light. She held it up and tried to picture her mother wearing it.

  "You think she would like this one?" she asked her sister.

  Trisha looked at it. She seemed to be contemplating for a few seconds before she wrinkled her tiny nose and shook her head.

  "You're right," Sydney said and put it back. "Too glittery."

  She walked deeper into the store, found a shirt and looked at it, but put it back immediately.

  "There's nothing here," she said with a deep sigh. "We should try somewhere else."

  "But we've been to almost every store," Trisha said.

  "I know," Sydney said.

  They walked out of the store.

  "My feet are hurting," Trisha whined. "And I’m hungry."

  "Let's go get something to eat then,” Sydney said and grabbed her hand. They walked to the food court and got Chick-fil-A. They sat at a table and ate, Sydney worrying that they wouldn't find a present today and would have to come back another day. Sydney hated going to the mall. Too many people there. Too much noise and too many staring eyes.

  A flock of girls from her school walked past, one of them whispering something to the others, making them laugh while staring at Sydney over their shoulders. Sydney ignored them.

  "Santa," Trisha said.

  Sydney froze. "Where?"

  Trisha pointed at a poster telling them Santa would be on stage at the food court at two o'clock. Sydney looked at the stage and the long line, then at her watch. It was almost two.

  "I wanna see Sa-a-nta," Trisha said.

  Sydney started to pack up, throwing out the food they hadn't eaten and grabbed her backpack.

  "No," she said.

  "Please?" Trisha said.

  Sydney shook her head and grabbed Trisha's hand in hers, then pulled her away, hurrying away from the food court.

  "NO," she said, so harshly her sister almost started to cry.

  45

  We waited what felt like forever in that line. My feet were hurting and I was getting hungry. Tobias and Julie continued shopping on their own, every now and then texting me to let me know where they were. I just hoped I had given them enough money, but so far, they seemed to be doing fine.

  The clock finally struck two o'clock and the lights turned on at the stage. A woman dressed as one of Santa's little helpers entered with a microphone in hand.

  "Merry Christmas, children," she said, sounding hysterically merry. "Anyone here in the mood for a little Christmas song?"

  I really wasn't.

  "You better watch out," she started. "Better not cry. Better not pout, I'm telling you why…help me out here kids, why is it that we don't pout or cry? Can anyone tell me?"

  She reached out the microphone to the kids, and they all squealed so loud it hurt my ears:

  "SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN!"

  "That's right, kids," the lady said, then continued. "He's making a list, he's checking it twice…and why is that?"

  Once again, the microphone was turned to the kids, who all, with no exception, screamed:

  "HE'S GONNA FIND OUT WHO'S NAUGHTY OR NICE!"

  "That's right, kids," the lady said, the bells on her elf hat jingling as she turned her head back and forth. "Now, let's sing the rest together. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake."

  She stopped singing, then looked out at the kids and all their expectant eyes staring back at her, gleaming with anticipation.

  "All right," she said and stepped aside. "Here's who you've all been waiting for, kids. H-E-E-R-E'S SANTA!"

  Ferris wheel music followed before the curtain was pulled and Santa appeared, walking slowly, holding his belly, smiling behind the beard, waving with a loud:

  "Ho-Ho-HO."

  I knew he was just someone dressed up for the occasion, someone paid to do this job, but I still couldn't help but shiver slightly when seeing him. William, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He was waving and jumping up and down.

  "Santa, Santa!"

  Santa waved at the kids like he was some rock star, then sat on the big throne-like chair, laughing, his belly jumping up and down. The first kid in line was told he could go sit on Santa's lap and so he did.

  "Now, have you been naughty or have you been nice this year, Mike?" Santa asked.

  "Nice," Mike answered and Santa laughed again.

  I calmed down, realizing there was nothing strange about this. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was just as it was supposed to be. I wondered if Sune was right, maybe I had let this entire craziness with Sydney and Sara Andrews get to me. I figured it was probably what Sara had said to me, the part about him coming for me now that she had told me her story. It was so ridiculous, I thought to myself. Silly, really. And it was about to ruin our nice Christmas. I wasn't going to let it. Maybe I had imagined the blood thing; maybe I had just gotten the kids all wound up thinking they saw what I saw. Maybe they didn't even see it, but only believed it because I had said so. There clearly wasn't anything in the chimney. And that tree in the living room and the things I saw in the ornaments. It was just my imagination running wild. It had to be. It was the only explanation. Maybe we all had gotten a little carried away and just thought we saw it. Maybe it had all just gotten a little out of hand.

  "Who's next?" Santa said and I realized it was William's turn.

  "Off you go," I said and pushed him slightly toward the stage. "Go give Santa that binky."

  I walked behind him, keeping close to him as he approached Santa, arms stretched out so the man could pick him up and put him in his lap.

  "Ho. Ho. Ho. And who do we have here?"

  "William," Will said.

  I signaled for him to take out the binky, then nodded when he did as he was told.

  "Well, hello there, William," Santa said, his voice deep and jolly.

  William was holding the binky in his hand.

  "Give it to him," I mouthed.

  "Oh, you want me to have that?" Santa asked.

  William looked like he was considering it for a few seconds, then nodded eagerly. I smiled and took his photo with my phone to remind him when he started asking about his binky. The deal was that Santa would bring him a big present for Christmas in exchange for the pacifier. It had worked for other parents and I hoped it would for us too. Now, all I needed to know was what the boy wanted for it.

  "Have you been a good boy, William?" Santa asked putting the binky in the pocket of his red suit. "Or have you been NAUGHTY?"

  "Good boy," William squealed. "Good boy."

  "And what does such a good boy want for Christmas?" Santa asked.

  This was the moment when I was supposed to listen very carefully to make sure he got whatever he told Santa, but I had stopped listening. I was staring at the photo on my screen, mouth agape. In the photo, Santa's eyes were glowing red like Christmas globes, his fingers had long dirty nails, and his teeth, don't even let me get started on his teeth.

  "What do you want for Christmas, little boy?" Santa repeated when Will didn't answer.

  I was staring at the Santa sitting with my son on his lap, looking perfectly normal. B
ut down on my screen, the picture was completely different.

  "Okay, my good boy," Santa said and put him down. "Maybe you'll tell me next time we meet."

  I grabbed William's hand in mine and pulled him away, still staring at Santa, my hands shaking as we walked away.

  "Was that the real Santa, Mommy?" William asked. "Was it?"

  I shook my head and cleared my throat. "Of course not, William. Of course, it wasn't. Santa is way too busy to sit here in some mall. He has to get all the presents done by Christmas, remember?"

  "Right." William turned his head and looked back at the man in the red suit as I rushed him away from the food court.

  "But who was he, then, Mommy? Who was that man?"

  I felt a chill run down my spine as I finally spotted Tobias and Julie and waved at them, rushing to them so we could get out of this place in a hurry.

  "I don't know, sweetie," I said. "I really don't know."

  46

  It was getting ridiculous. They had been in every store in the entire mall, many of them twice. They had eaten lunch and dinner there and still hadn't found a present for their mother.

  Sydney was upset. What if they never found one? They could hardly have Christmas without a present for their mother. Trisha was getting tired and whiny as Sydney dragged her around the mall, going into store after store, looking at everything on the shelves.

  "Why don't we just give her that apron I found in Macy's? You liked that," she said, tired.

  "No," Sydney said and dragged her sister inside Books-A-Million.

  "Why not? It was fun. It said MAY THE FORKS BE WITH YOU," Trisha said. "It's like Star Wars and Mommy loves Star Wars."

  "Would you like to get a present that said, hey, woman, get back in the kitchen where you belong? No. I want this to be a present Mom will be excited about, one that will cheer her up, not one that tells her that we only see her as someone who'll cook for us and serve us."

  "But she's not," Trisha said. "Not anymore. You're always cooking for us. She never cooks anymore."

  "Exactly," Sydney said. "I don't to make her feel bad by giving her an apron. Just like I didn’t want to give her a new pan or those utensils you wanted to give her. It has to be something spectacular. It has to be."

  "Why?"

  "Because it has to be. It simply HAS to be!"

  Sydney was yelling now. She felt how her nostrils were flaring and could tell she was scaring her sister. She calmed down.

  "I'm sorry," she said and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm just so tired and I want to find the right thing."

  They left the bookstore. Sydney looked around at the many stores surrounding them, not knowing which one to go into next.

  "How about a scented candle?" Trisha asked.

  "No. You already suggested that once," Sydney said.

  "Some underwear from Victoria's Secret?"

  "No!"

  Sydney felt the mall spinning around her. So many voices, faces, and bodies swarming around her. Some were laughing, some were fighting, others just looking, not uttering a word to one another, lots were on their phones until they bumped into someone.

  "Where are we going now?" her sister asked.

  "I don't know," Sydney answered.

  And then she saw it. The small shop that was squeezed in between Islander Comic & Collectibles and Vitamin World. In the window, they had a dog, a rescue puppy. Its big brown eyes looked back at her.

  "I know exactly what we should give her," she said and approached the window.

  "A puppy?" Trisha squealed with happiness. She could hardly breathe. "That's a good idea."

  Sydney smiled. The puppy could keep her mother company when she felt lonely, especially when they were both in school and even at night when she felt lonely in bed, it could sleep with her. It would get her out of the house too, to go on walks. Sydney had read online it was very important for people in grief to get outside and get some fresh air and that having a dog was a good way to move on.

  "It is a great idea," Sydney said and looked at it through the glass. "It's the perfect gift."

  47

  Sune was in the kitchen when we got home. Much to my surprise, he smiled when we walked in. The smile seemed a little manic, but at this point, I would take any type when coming from him.

  "I baked," he said.

  I stared at him, then at the kids, who stood with their jaws dropped, eyes wide gazing at him.

  "You what?" I asked.

  Sune rolled to the oven, grabbed some oven mitts, and pulled out what appeared to be a cake.

  "Chocolate cake," he said.

  The kids and I exchanged glances. Theirs said: What's going on?

  I shrugged for an answer, then mouthed: I don't know.

  Sune held the cake out between his hands. It smelled really good but slightly burnt.

  "What are you all looking at me like that for? I thought you'd be hungry when you got back."

  "It's just…you've never baked before, Sune," I said.

  "I know," he said. "There's a first time for everything, right? I figured I might as well make the best of my time. I’m sick of just sitting here, doing nothing. It is, after all, Christmas, right?"

  He rolled back to the oven and burned his finger when closing it. I looked at the kids again. They seemed more scared than happy. I was thrilled to see Sune in a good mood and finally out of the media room. I was terrified of ruining it, of hurting him somehow.

  "That's great, Sune," I said and gestured for them to say something encouraging as well. "Right kids?"

  "Yes, Dad," Tobias said. "It's really great."

  "It smells weird," Julie said.

  "Julie!"

  "What?" she said. "I can't be honest now?"

  Sune looked disappointedly at the cake. "I think it cooked too long."

  "That's okay," I said, feeling awful. Here he was, trying for once to actually do something. He had been so depressed for so long. I really wanted him to feel good about himself. "I love burnt cake."

  "I love chocolate cake," William exclaimed. He found a stool and climbed up so he could sit by the counter.

  Sune smiled, then cut him a piece. William dug in and, if he was pretending to enjoy it, he was a very good actor. But that was William for you. He would eat anything. I urged the big kids to sit down as well and grabbed a knife to help Sune cut the cake for them.

  "Don't," he said as I approached him.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "You don't have to help me. I can do it. I am perfectly capable of cutting the cake myself."

  "I didn't mean to…I was…"

  "Just trying to help. Yes, I know. But you do this all the time. You take over like I’m some kid who needs help. I need to do things on my own. I’m sick of being unable to do stuff."

  I backed up, wondering what had suddenly gotten into him. "Okay."

  He cut the cake and handed the kids each a piece. He accidentally pushed one plate over the edge of the countertop and it shattered all over the floor. Sune growled, annoyed. I jumped up to help, but he stopped me.

  "It's okay. I've got this. I don't need to be saved, Rebekka. I can do this. I don't need you to take care of me constantly."

  I sat back down while Sune reached forward to grab the broken pieces from the floor. We all stared at him struggling to reach, but no one dared to help. Sune growled and picked a big piece up, then reached down for yet another one and cut his finger so it bled. Sune grumbled and looked at the bleeding finger. Tobias looked at me for help. I took in a deep breath, then said:

  "You need me to get a Band-Aid?"

  Sune, still staring at the finger, shook his head. "That's okay." He rolled across the tiles and through the living room.

  "I think I'll just…take a nap."

  As he disappeared once again into the media room, I sighed and looked at the kids, my heart breaking. Tobias had tears in his eyes that he tried bravely to hold back.

  "How about we watch a movie, huh, kids?"

  W
illiam squealed with excitement, "Beauty and the Beast!"

  "Oh, no!" Julie said.

  Tobias added, "Not again."

  48

  We settled on the Emoji Movie. Julie was on her phone for most of the time, while Tobias and William seemed to be the only two actually watching it since I couldn't concentrate. I kept looking at the door to the media room, secretly wishing it would open and Sune would come back out and be with us. He loved watching movies.

  Finally, I decided to go in instead. I knocked, then opened the door carefully and peeked inside.

  "Sune?"

  "Go away, Rebekka," he said.

  I walked in anyway. I sat down on the couch that he was using as a bed. It seemed like it hadn't been used at all since I put the sheets on it.

  "Have you been sleeping in your chair?"

  "Who cares, Rebekka?"

  I shook my head, feeling awful, realizing that all this time he had needed my help. I hadn't even thought about the fact that he had a hard time getting out of the chair on his own. He had learned how to go to the bathroom on his own, but the couch was way too low for him to be able to get there on his own.

  "You have, haven't you? You haven't been able to get yourself onto the couch on your own. Why didn't you ask me to help you?" I asked.

  "Because we were fighting, remember?"

  "So, now you're suddenly too proud to ask for help?" I asked.

  "Well…I wanted to be able to do stuff on my own. Now that I finally have realized that I’ll never walk again."

  I had never heard him say those words before. After the accident, he kept telling me he would walk again, and it didn't matter how many doctors told him he wouldn't, he kept telling me that one day he would.

  "What's with you these days?" I asked and reached out my hand toward him. I think I already knew what was going on. He had put all his hope in this doctor over here, in the Promised Land and when he finally told him that he couldn't help him, he lost hope.