On Christmas morning, after he’d given him the razor, Connell heard his father shaving with it. His father came down holding a Bic in his hands.
“This time, as it happens,” his father said, “I didn’t cut myself.”
“Good,” Connell said. “How do you like the electric razor?”
“I didn’t use it.”
“I heard it going.”
“You heard nothing of the sort,” his father said indignantly.
“I heard it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jabbed the Bic in Connell’s direction. “This is what I used.”
“No way. I heard it.”
His mother sighed, then abruptly snapped, “Would you leave your father alone?”
“Fine, fine.” Connell got ice from the freezer. “No, you know what? That’s bullshit.”
“Watch it!” his mother said.
“I heard it. Why won’t he admit it? Why won’t you admit it, Dad? It’s stupid.”
“I used the Bic.”
“You didn’t!”
“I used it like this.” His father put the razor up to his face and started digging at his dry cheeks. He winced, kept going. “Like this.”
“Stop!” Connell’s mother screamed. “Stop, stop!”
Connell went to take it from his hand. A dewdrop of blood clung to his father’s chin. His father shifted and lunged the razor at him. Connell reared his head back.
“Ed!” his mother screamed.
“Okay!” Connell said. “You used the Bic!” He tried to wrest it from his father, but his father dropped it and grabbed him by the wrist, twisting it.
“I did use it.”
Connell was in pain. “Will you use the other one for me, Dad? Because it’s Christmas. I got it for you for Christmas.”
“Sure.” His father released his grip. “What other one?”
“The razor I got you.”
“I used it already,” his father said, smiling. “Works like a charm.”
Connell eyed the razor on the floor. It looked like a piece of bloody evidence. His wrist throbbed. He thought of picking the razor up and holding it at his father himself.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly.
“It’s a great gift,” his father said, rubbing his chin and looking curiously at the blood on his palm. “A great gift. You’re a good kid.”
Connell saw his mother’s face twist up as she turned to the dishwasher. She seemed to be fighting back tears.
“Now can we please have a nice Christmas, please?” she asked. “Can we all forget everything and have a nice Christmas?”
62
In the middle of a Valentine’s Day commercial, his father stood and went out without his jacket. He was halfway down the driveway when Connell caught up to him.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s Val, it’s Valen, Valtine’s. I’m going to get a Valen-en-tine’s card for Mom.”
“We can go when Mom gets home with the car. It’s freezing.”
His father turned and headed down the street. Connell called after him, then ran inside, grabbed their coats, and caught up with him. His father was shivering as he walked with purpose. Connell could barely stop him long enough to get the coat on him.
“I’ll go with you,” he said. “Slow down.”
They walked into town, buffeted by wind. Connell took his father’s elbow and led him into the stationery store and to the aisle of Valentine’s Day cards. His father picked up card after card and made a pile of them in his hands.
“Wait, Dad.” Connell laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
“I need it,” he said, panting.
“Let me help you.” Connell wrenched the pile of cards from his father’s hands. He led him to the cards for wives. “Everything from here to here,” he said, drawing an imaginary rectangle with his finger.
His father quickly made another pile. Connell tugged them from his hands.
“Do you want me to pick out a good one for you?”
“Yes!” his father shouted joyfully.
Connell found one embossed “To My Beloved Wife” in cursive above a bouquet of flowers. Inside was one of those generic sentiments that made him wonder how people ever brought themselves to purchase these things. It looked the part of the cards his parents had exchanged in the past, though, and he didn’t want to get too particular. He handed it over.
“That’s very nice,” his father said quietly. “Very nice.”
As long as he was there, he figured he might as well pick one out for Kaitlin. He found one that, oddly enough, more or less captured how he felt about her, and he knew he was going to have to undercut the sincerity of the message with a little humor, to make it less awkward, so he bought a joke one too.