“I know that,” I breathe, moving over to sit beside him. I lean in close, and he puts his arm around me. “You love your kids more than anything. Trust me, I’m the consummate expert on the subject.” Charlie laughs, but it ends in a coughing fit that leaves the handkerchief he’s using dotted with flecks of red. Coincidently, it’s the same handkerchief that Tristan gave me on the first day of third year. “Are you okay?” I whisper, but Charlie just shakes his head and waves me away.
“Marnye, I want you to have a relationship with your mother. With your sister, too. That way, when I’m gone—”
“Don’t please,” I snap, sitting up suddenly and rubbing my hands down my face. “Please don’t talk like that.”
“Marnye, there’s a difference between staying positive and burying your head in the sand. You know I love you, honey, and if I could I’d be by your side until I was old and gray. Sometimes though, the universe doesn’t give us what we want.”
“The new baby, Marley, is she yours, too?” I glance over at Charlie, but he just shakes his head.
“I don’t know. Jennifer seems to think she is, but we don’t know for sure. At this point, it doesn’t matter. It’s better for us not to know, really.”
“How can you say that?” I whisper, feeling myself start to break. I try to stay strong, but sometimes even the hardiest of us have our breaking points. “If she’s your kid, you have a right to know. She has a right to know. You’re a better father than a thousand Adam Carmichaels. His money doesn’t make him a good person or a good dad, and you know it.”
“Better for her to have a young, healthy absentee father than no father at all. Marnye, I hate it, too. I do. But what good will it do to break up their family? Isabella loves the man she’s always thought of as her dad, and she’s well-taken care of. Jennifer, too, and Marley. You have a place there now, and—”
“I love you, but I’m tired,” I blurt, cutting off the conversation and standing up to give Charlie a kiss on the forehead. I can only handle so much at once without breaking. “Do you want me to help you into bed?”
He laughs, but it’s a sound that’s equally mixed with melancholy and mirth both.
“I can put myself to bed still, Marnye-bear, don’t you worry.” I help him up off the couch, and he gives me one more hug before bed. “Think about what I said, okay? Sometimes things aren’t perfect, but we do the best we can with what we have.”
He heads off down the hall and closes his door behind him.
I sink down on the ground in front of the Christmas tree and look at that ornament, tears streaming down my face. After a while, I can’t take it anymore. I get my phone and text Zack, slipping out the front door to meet him when he pulls up in his orange McLaren.
“I can’t go anywhere, I don’t want to leave him alone, but I can’t take it. Zack, I can’t do it. I can’t just sit here and watch him die.”
Zack folds me in his arms and pulls me close, holding me so tight that for the briefest of moments, I feel shielded from the ugliness in the world. How weird is that? The boy who was once the source of much of my darkness is now the light that chases it away.
“You can, Marnye, you’re strong enough for that. And if for some reason, you feel yourself faltering, I’ll be that strength for you.” I bury my face under Zack’s letterman jacket, hiding the freezing tip of my nose from the cold, winter air. He smells like grapefruit and freshly laundered clothes and maybe a little like apple cider and cinnamon.
“You smell like Christmas,” I whisper, closing my eyes. Zack strokes his hand over the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair.
“My mom and sister heard about me cooking on Thanksgiving and demanded a repeat performance. We made molasses cookies from scratch and drank cider.” There’s a pause and Zack exhales as I step back and look up at his face. He’s all serious and shit until he notices the reindeer antlers on my hood. “Are you … dressed up like Rudolph?” He flips the hood up over my head, and then leans down to peer in at me with those dark, brooding eyes of his.
“Rudolph would imply a red nose,” I grumble, reaching up to rub at my own. “Is it that red already? Because I seriously thought I was just dressed up like Blitzen … or something.”
Zack laughs, this low, soft sweet sound that’s so at odds with his big, broad shoulders and imposing stare that I smile. Despite everything, I actually smile.
