Page 80 of Christmas Chaos
20
TABI
Jingletown is a magical place with a bright-ass Army/Navy store and a beautiful winter village gas station on every corner. No. But it does appear to be an arts district and it’s decked out in a million white lights.
I slog up the exit and my phone tumbles down the on-ramp and into traffic. Fucking magical. I was going to call Bax and let him know what’s happened. Shit. Shit. Shit. Thank God for the photo cloud.
Ok, I need to get my kid to some shelter. I need to actually provide a life for him the way the parents thought I could. I’m in a mess and have no way to fix it. Think, Tab. We crest the exit and cross the street. We walk a couple of blocks in silence. I have no idea where I’m wandering to, just keep moving. The houses are dotted with inflatable snowmen and rigid plastic reindeer. It’s kitschy but not tacky. There’s something so earnest in their endeavor to spread cheer.
I angle the bucket so he can see the decorations. One house is blaring “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” from it, and Poppy and I join in. Neither of us are good but it lifts us up for a moment. The kid’s eyes are bright and he’s just squirming a little. I’d like to think he’s dancing.
I look towards the buildings clustered ahead, and it is actually magical. There’s art everywhere. The tiniest tiny boy is waking up for real and we find a bench. He’s screeching. It’s cute. If this is baby crying, I can manage this no problem. I find his little pacifier, stick my finger in it and put it back in his mouth. He sucks on my finger through the plastic.
“Dude. We have to get home.”
Poppy flops onto the bench. “This is awful but at least it’s a pretty place.”
“Ok, what do we do now?” I ask.
“We could look at the murals.” Poppy says brightly as if that’s fucking helping.
I roll my eyes. “We have to get home. I dropped my phone and it skidded onto the 880. I know you’re savvier than this. Figure this out. I’m too busy mothering. You’re the deputy, fucking do something.”
“Don’t yell at me.” Her phone springs to life.
“Sorry.”
“Hi.” I hear a deep man’s voice. “How did you know? Never mind. I don’t want to know how many trackers are on me.” Her voice has a lilt to it. I ignore it. I unstrap my kid and hold him to me. I smell him. Damn, that’s a good smell. I kiss his teeny, little forehead that’s peeking out. I also smell his butt and make sure he’s good in that department. Then I tighten the burrito wrapper around him and put him back in the bucket.
“Ok. Me too.”
“You know it’s ok, I know you’re together.” I sling my arm around Poppy.
She grins. “No, it’s not. Follow me.” She jumps up and I follow. Suddenly she’s got it all figured out but isn’t sharing the journey.
I’m not sure what else can go wrong today on a day that everything was supposed to go right. Shit. I’m nauseous again. I pass the bucket to Poppy and bolt over to a garbage can. I puke and dry heave. A hand rubs my back, and I let her. I don’t think about it, but it’s nice. Then I glance to the side and Poppy’s staring at me with her face in a frozen expression of concern. I look behind me and stiffen up. I turn and a homeless Santa in a bedraggled suit is rubbing my back.
“Oh, man, that’s so sweet of you. But I’m good.”
He says with his four teeth, “Mighty fine babe you got there all wrapped up in them swaddling clothes.”
“Thanks.” I move between Poppy and Street Santa. “We’re going to keep him.” Poppy steps back. I smile at him. “Can I get you something, Santa?”
“No. I just heard the baby noises and wanted to see and maybe sing a bit about him. Mighty fine babe. Mighty fine.”
“Ok, cool. Merry Christmas, Santa?” I don’t know what he wants to be called. “I’ve always loved ‘Silent Night.’ How about you sing that?” I back away from him, confused what this is about.
“Sounds perfect. But do you know where you’re going?”
“Yup, we’re all set.”
Poppy says, “Actually if you could tell us how to get to Peterson and East 7th?” I whip my head around to her. She shrugs.
Street Santa pulls up his mottled crimson britches and scratches under the tatters of his hat.
“Now I don’t know nothing about slouching towards Bethlehem, but if you folks wander on over towards that purple building, the one with the star on the side, and take a left that will put you on Peterson.”
Poppy grins. “Which direction?”
