Light

--illumination from a source of light
--a way of looking at something
--enlightenment, understanding
--not dark, bright

"Shining like a summer rainbow, we are colors, we are bright. Vanishing into the sunshine like a river made of light." --October Project, "Where You Are"

“Mama’s too tired to play now,” I mumbled into my pillow as a pair of warm hands wrapped around my cold ones and tugged insistently, presumably to get me out of my soft, warm sanctuary. The hands loosened a little and I thought for a moment I’d won the battle until I heard the soft voice not of one of my two smaller children, but of my eighteen year old son, Josh.

“Yeah, well Mama’s gotta come out of there some time even if she does have a hangover and still stinks like the alcohol she loves,” he said, his voice not the sad high-pitched whine of his younger siblings but the hard accusation it always was whenever he was addressing me.

“God, not you again,” I mumbled, not opening my eyes for fear of further evidence that he was right about my hangover. “Haven’t you moved out yet?”

He sighed. “No, not yet,” he said.

I took a chance and peeked out of the covers, surprised that I didn’t feel as bad as I thought. Those aspirin I took before going out must have really worked. Who knew Patty could be right every now and then?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, excited to finally have a reason to sound like I was accusing him of something instead of the other way around.

“It means I haven’t found a place yet,” he answered.

“You’re looking?”

“Yes.”

“Actually looking?”

“Yes.”

“For a place of your own?”

“Yeah.”

I laughed a little and began to sit up slowly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes sad and serious. I narrowed my own eyes because I hated his. They looked just like Gerald’s.

“Well, you didn’t bring anyone home with you last night so that’s a plus,” he said, all condescension once more. He rose from the bed and stretched. “You should probably get up and get dressed. The kids are waiting to open presents.”

He talked as if they were his kids. My eyes would have narrowed further except something he said caught my attention.

“Presents?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Christmas, remember?”

I stared blankly, all the explanation he needed.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry. Santa came,” he said.

With that, he slipped out the door and I was alone. Grumbling, I shoved off the covers and moved to the windows. Shivering, I admired the cheery little snow covered scene stretched out before me. It was actually pretty spectacular and I wondered for a moment how I could have forgotten. Again.

Turning toward the mirror, I was faced with quite another thing altogether. My hair was greasy and sticking out in all directions. My mascara was smudged in the most horrific way. I smelled awful.

I moved stiffly over to my closet, intending more to hide in it for the rest of the day rather than pick a suitable outfit in which I could join the festivities. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something draped over one of the chairs. A dress I had never seen before with shoes to match. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed it all and went to wash up quickly. Josh, I had to admit, was too efficient for me.

But he had reasonable taste. The dress was comfortable and I didn’t look half bad in it. I turned in it a few times, liking the way it puffed up like an umbrella. I could be Marilyn Monroe if only I could find a vent to stand over. And get rid of the slow thudding in the back of my head.

I walked into the living room slowly, listening to the excited voices of my two youngest children.

“Look what Santa brought me!” Brandon boasted. “I wonder what it is?”

“Wait for Mommy!” Julia warned even though I could tell she was teetering on the edge of tearing into all of her gifts regardless of whether or not I was present.

“Where is she anyway?” Brandon said, sighing with frustration. “Please Josh? Just one?”

“Wait for Mom,” was all he said.

“There she is!” I heard as I entered the room, only seconds before I was accosted by my daughter. She bounced up to me and plastered herself against me in the death grip that’s her version of a bear hug.

“Can we open presents now?” Brandon asked without greeting me.

“You look really pretty,” Julia noticed.

“Where’d you get that dress?” Brandon wanted to know. “It doesn’t look like anything Gary would buy you.”

“Santa brought it,” I answered, settling down in an armchair.

“Can we open presents?” Julia asked hopefully, looking to Josh, who waved his hand in consent.

Each dove in at once, presents from under the tree I had failed to notice on my way in during the night. They sorted out everything according to whose name was on the nametag. I was interested to find out that not only were there presents from Santa, but ones from Josh and myself as well. I smiled at him secretly, glad he had come to my rescue. He raised an eyebrow back, cautiously letting his own smile set in.

At eighteen, Josh was a little less than half my age but he always seemed older than me. Ten years Brandon’s senior and twelve years Julia’s, he was more than an older brother to them. In fact, I think their first words were “papa” and their eyes were turned toward him when they said it.

I honestly have no ideas where I was during those years but have never had reason to account for myself in any way. Josh was always there so I didn’t have to be if I didn’t want to. And I definitely didn’t want to.

Moving to the breakfast table, Brandon and Julia both handed me crudely wrapped presents while Josh moved into the kitcen to bring out the food.

“From Santa,” Julia whispered to me conspiratorially before stepping back to watch me open their gifts.

The first, from Julia, was a keychain with a picture of a globe on it. It said in bright yellow letters, “World’s #1 Mom.”

I thanked her, choosing not to mention that we didn’t have a car, much less the keys that went with one to put on the keychain.

Brandon’s gift was a pair of red gloves because “Red’s your favorite color. You told me so.”

I vaguely remembered being semi-conscious on the living room couch and being asked several times what color I liked before rudely answering the first one that came to mind. Really, it was green but he didn’t need to know that.

“So it is,” I said, kissing them both. “Santa must be awfully smart to get me just what I wanted for Christmas this year.”

“Really?” Julia said, beaming.

I didn’t have time to respond as Josh walked back in carrying a large stack of pancakes. He passed them out to Julia and Brandon before offering me some. I declined. He shrugged and began to eat some himself. He was used to me not eating so early in the morning.

“When did you learn to make pancakes?” I asked, nauseated by the very smell of them.

“You ask that every time,” he mumbled.

I shrugged.

The rest of the day was filled with various festivities such as watching the cartoon version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I fell asleep in the middle of it and woke up again to a sharp elbow in the ribs from Josh.

“Have pity, I didn’t get to bed until 3:30 last night.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to snore,” he snapped.

Sighing, I tried to keep my attention on the television.

After the Grinch, we played a few more rounds of Candy Land than I could handle, watched the obligatory It’s a Wonderful Life and eating a dinner of leftover Chinese takeout. One more viewing of the Grinch later, Julia and Brandon went to bed, exhausted from a night of trying to stay awak for Santa.

When Josh emerged from their bedroom, I sat on the couch flipping through a magazine.

“Well,” I said, “I believe I’ve done my duty for the day. May I please go back to bed now?”

“No,” he said, but there was no sharpness in his voice. He moved quietly over to the CD player and pressed play. The Eurythmics singing “Winter Wonderland” came on.

“Can I just have one Christmas dance with you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You know I don’t dance.”

“You used to.”

“Not anymore. Not with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s weird.”

Sighing, he flopped himself down on the couch next to me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, so I went back to my magazine. I willed him to go away, but he didn’t. He was depressing me.

I rolled my eyes and lifted myself from the couch.

“Fine,” I said, taking his hand and beginning to dance to the Pointer Sisters’ “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

“You’re good at this,” he commented as we danced.

“Really? You kind of suck,” I said, meaning it as a joke even though he really didn’t dance very well.

“I haven’t gotten much of a chance to hone my dancing skills lately,” he said pointedly.

This gave me pause.

“Sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “No big deal.”

“You really are going to move out?”

“Yup,” he said.

I was tempted to ask why, but didn’t really want to know.

“What am I going to do without you?” I asked.

“Beats me,” he said.

“Will you ever come back?”

“Only if I absolutely have to,” he said and I knew what he meant. Brandon and Julia. Did he really have so little trust in me?

“Good luck, then,” I said. Then, uncomfortably, I pulled him into a hug. Josh was my light and I knew it. Though hangovers had proved to me time and time again that light was not always a good thing, I would miss him just the same.

"These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face and when you do you'll know how what meant to be." --10,000 Maniacs, "These Are the Days"
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