Page 21 of One Night at Christmas

“Yeah okay, whatever.”

He stomped back to his car and peeled rubber out of the lot. She called the roadside assistance service and then started to call Morris. Before she could, Naomi started wailing.

Charon leaned into the back of the car. “What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“I bith math thng,” she whined, crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Ah, poor thing.” Charon kissed her cheek and stroked the soft skin. “You have to slow down, baby. Nobody’s going to take your cookies away. Shh, it’s okay. It will be all better in a minute.”

Her three-year-old continued to whimper. Charon loved her to pieces, but her daughter was always crying over something. Morris had told her he was a crybaby when he was a kid and that their daughter took after him. He seemed to be proud of it. Charon willed Naomi to grow out of the habit soon. Not that she made little of a bitten tongue. That mess could hurt. Naomi cried over several things that day, and the last had prompted Charon to buy the cookies. There was no peace to be had.

By the time she got her baby calm, the man in the mini pickup, who would change her tire, was rolling into the lot. Charon sat on a parking spot barrier with Naomi on her lap until he was done. An hour later, they were on their way. As Charon headed down the road, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She’d forgotten to call Morris. He would be annoyed that she was late.

“It’s not like it was on purpose,” she muttered to herself.

“What, Mommy?”

“Nothing, baby.”

She frowned to herself. What was the big deal? So she took a little longer than she meant to at the grocery store. He wouldn’t starve. There was food in the house. In fact, she’d made sure there was still some lunchmeat in there and sub rolls. Plus, there were a few cans of soda he could drink.

“Why am I trying to justify myself? If he can’t figure out things happen, that’s his problem. I don’t have to feel guilty.”

“What, Mommy?”

Charon laughed. Her mood lightened a little. She looked at Naomi in the rearview mirror. “I said we’re going to take a bath together after dinner, and I’ll watch one of your movies with you. Think about which one you want to see.”

“Yay! Horses!”

Charon shook her head. Naomi was obsessed with horses, but any movie with animals in it became a favorite. Charon mentally prepared to watch something they had seen a hundred times. Naomi didn’t care. She acted like she saw it for the first time each time she watched, and she cracked up at the funny parts too.

A short while later, Charon pushed the door open to the cottage where she, her daughter, and Morris lived. Morris kept his promise about buying the house, and he never let her forget it.

The door banged against the wall, startling her. She looked into her husband’s angry face. “Where the hell have you been, Charon?”

“Morris, watch your mouth.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “Can I get in the door before you grill me? Jeez, you’d think the grocery bags would be a clue.”

“Don’t give me that.”

He followed her into the kitchen, not even grabbing a bag. Naomi ran to her room probably to look for a movie to watch. Morris was in the mood to harangue her.

“You were supposed to be back an hour ago.”

She slammed the bag she carried on the kitchen table. “I had a flat, alright? Get off my back.”

“Likely story. You went to see that guy, didn’t you?”

“What guy?”

“You know who the fuck I mean.”

“I said watch your damn mouth!”

“Naomi is in her room. She can’t hear us.”

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