The Kindest Lie(80)
“Aw, man,” Eli said, jumping to his feet. “I always heard stuff. You know how people talk. But I didn’t know they did Papa like that. I would’ve handled it for him.” He pounded his closed fist into his other hand.
“Settle down now,” Mama said. “Everything your grandfather did was for the two of you. We saved up any extra money we had after all the bills and kept it in a special fund.” She looked at Ruth. “Your scholarship didn’t cover books or your dorm room fees.”
Another sacrifice to give her a better life. At Yale, she worked out at the campus gym that had a pool and a sauna. A chef prepared themed meals in the dorm. When she turned it over in her mind, it felt like too much, a burden.
Ruth looked back at her grandmother, stunned. Mama said, “Remember when your grandfather pulled you out of Driscoll and promised you’d never have to go back? That fall, you had a spot at Mother Mary, that Catholic school.”
Ruth shook her head. “No, no, no.”
“Yes. He did what he had to do to give you the best education possible. That wasn’t free. None of it.”
If only she’d known at the time, she would have told Papa it wasn’t worth it. The price was too high.
“That’s what parents do,” Mama continued. “They don’t think about themselves. They put the children first.”
Without coming out and saying it directly, Mama was calling her selfish, not selfless like her grandfather. All because she wanted to know her own son. But Ruth refused to accept that label, knowing now that a lifetime of lies never added up to anything good. A lifetime of doing the wrong things for the right reasons. A lifetime of lies that started small, like a nick in the windshield, then eventually shattered the glass.
Twenty-Seven
Midnight
Midnight woke up Christmas morning at Drew’s apartment and he breathed in the usual smell of onions and armpits. Being there wasn’t so bad, and Bo and L-Boogie wouldn’t be likely to find him there, although maybe gang members took off work on Christmas like everybody else. He lay still on the couch under the coat Miss Ruth had covered him with at Granny’s. It still carried her flowery scent and he put it over his head to get a better whiff.
“Ho, ho, ho.” Drew came through the front door carrying a case of beer in green packaging with red ribbon tied around it. This would be the only festive thing in the whole place. Other than that, it was just blank white walls, one beige leather couch, and a beanbag in front of the TV.
Daddy stumbled in from the bedroom in sweatpants and a T-shirt. “I thought you were staying the night with Nadine,” he said, turning on the TV.
“I did, buddy. Nadine’s spending the day with her family. It’s now ten thirty in the morning. On Christmas.” Drew added that part in case Daddy had forgotten. “Oh yeah, month’s almost over, Boyd. Don’t forget you still owe me December rent.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I told you I’d pay you.” Daddy was still sleepy, barely opening his eyes or mouth.
“I thought you and I could kick back and celebrate,” Drew said. Then he finally noticed Midnight. “I got some Hawaiian Punch, too. Pretend you’re on a warm beach somewhere. You like Hawaiian Punch?”
Midnight nodded, imagining the Cunninghams sitting around their live Christmas tree opening presents in their pajamas, drinking cocoa with marshmallows. At least that’s the way Corey had described it to him last year, like something out of a TV commercial. He hated the way his friend bragged without really bragging, making extraordinary things sound routine.
Daddy sat next to him on the couch and a news story came on about Christmas tree farms, blaming a tree shortage on the recession. And then a mention of the newly elected president who would be inaugurated next month.
“They all think they’re better than us,” Daddy said, pointing to the screen, maybe meaning Obama or the woman and man anchoring the news, her in a red sweater and the guy in a black suit with a red tie. Or perhaps all of them. “Think we’re trash.”
Midnight wanted to ask Daddy what the news anchors had against them, but he thought better of it since his father tendered beefs with all sorts of people, even ones he’d never met.
The doorbell rang and Granny walked in with two gifts wrapped in gold foil, with a red ribbon stuck to the top gift. In her other hand she carried a sack of groceries. Even though she tried to hide it, he saw her glare at Daddy before setting eggs and a loaf of bread on Drew’s kitchen countertop.
“Patrick, have you had breakfast yet?” Granny asked, slipping out of her boots.
Midnight shook his head. “I’m hungry. Can we have French toast?” he said, thinking of the time he and Miss Ruth cooked breakfast food for dinner.
Ignoring his specific menu request, Granny turned to Daddy. “He’s a growing boy. He needs three square meals.”
“Damn holidays.” Daddy slid his hand over his face and wiped the sleep from the corners of his eyes. “Can’t find any decent restaurants open.”
Within minutes, Midnight smelled butter heating in a skillet and then heard the crack of eggshells. Soon, they were all sitting on bar stools at Drew’s kitchen counter eating fried eggs and cinnamon raisin toast.
After breakfast, Granny handed him the two packages wrapped in gold foil. Midnight took them and read the gift label: Merry Christmas! To Patrick, From Granny & Daddy. He glanced up at his father, who shrugged, obviously just as curious as Midnight to see what the unwrapping would reveal.