everyone.
Nobody had expected Richie to buy Christmas presents. ‘I should make you wait until Christmas morning,’ he said, ‘but I’m sick of watching this.’
He put his cigarette in his mouth and put his boots on. They heard the truck door open, and then Richie was back with a big ShopKo bag. He started throwing boxes onto the floor.
‘Mouse,’ he said. A remote-control monster truck.
‘Ben.’ A big racetrack.
‘Maisie … cause you like to sing.’
Richie
pulled
out
a
keyboard, an actual electronic keyboard. It was probably some off-brand, but still. He didn’t drop it on the floor. He handed it to Maisie.
‘And Little Richie … where’s Little Richie?’
‘He’s taking a nap,’ their mom said.
Richie shrugged and threw a teddy bear onto the floor. The bag was empty, and Eleanor felt cold with relief.
Then Richie took out his wallet and pulled out a bill.
‘Here, Eleanor, come get it.
Buy
yourself
some
normal
clothes.’
She looked at her mother, standing
blank-faced
in
the
kitchen doorway, then walked over to take the money. It was a fifty.
‘Thank you.’ Eleanor said it as flatly as possible. Then she went to sit on the couch. The little kids were all opening their presents.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Mouse kept saying. ‘Oh man, thanks, Dad!’
‘Yeah,’ Richie said, ‘you’re welcome. You’re welcome. That’s a real Christmas.’
Richie stayed home all day to watch the little kids play with their toys. Maybe the Broken Rail wasn’t open on Christmas Eve.
Eleanor went to her bedroom to get away from him. (And to get away
from
Maisie’s
new
keyboard.) She was tired of missing Park. She just wanted to see him. Even if he did think she was a perverted psychopath who wrote herself badly punctuated threats. Even if he had spent his formative years tongue-kissing Tina. None of it was vile enough to make Eleanor stop wanting him. (How vile would that have to be? she wondered.) Maybe she should just go over to his house right now and pretend that nothing had happened. Maybe she would, if it wasn’t Christmas Eve. Why didn’t Jesus ever work with her?
Later, her mom came in to say they were going to the store to buy groceries for Christmas dinner.
‘I’ll come out and watch the kids,’ Eleanor said.
‘Richie wants us all to go,’ her mom said, smiling, ‘as a family.’
‘But, Mom …’
‘None of this, Eleanor,’ she said softly, ‘we’re having a good day.’
‘Mom, come on – he’s been drinking all day.’
Her mom shook her head.
‘Richie’s fine, he never has a problem with driving.’
‘I don’t think the fact that he drinks and drives all the time is a very good argument.’
‘You just can’t stand this, can you?’ her mom said quietly, angrily, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know that you’re going through …’ She looked at Eleanor, then shook her head again. ‘ Something. But everyone else in this house is having a great day. Everyone else in this house deserves a great day.
‘We’re a family, Eleanor. All of us. Richie, too. And I’m sorry that makes you so unhappy. I’m sorry that things aren’t perfect here all the time for you … But this is our life now. You can’t keep throwing tantrums about it, you
can’t
keep
trying
to
undermine this family – I won’t let you.’
Eleanor clenched her jaw.
‘I have to think of everyone,’
her
mom
said.
‘Do
you
understand? I have to think of myself. In a few years, you’ll be on your own, but Richie is my husband.’
She almost sounded sane, Eleanor thought. If you didn’t know that she was acting rational on the far side of crazy.
‘Get up,’ her mother said, ‘and put on your coat.’
Eleanor put on her coat and her new hat and followed her brothers and sisters into the back of the Isuzu.
When they got to Food 4 Less, Richie waited in the truck while everybody else went in. As soon as they were inside, Eleanor put the wadded-up fifty in her mother’s hand.
Her mother didn’t thank her.
Park They were shopping for Christmas dinner, and it was taking forever because it always made Park’s mom nervous to cook for his grandmother.
‘What
kind
of
stuffing
Grandma like?’ his mom asked.
‘Pepperidge Farm,’ Park said, standing on the back of the cart and popping a wheelie.
‘Pepperidge Farm original? Or Pepperidge Farm cornbread?’
‘I don’t know, original.’
‘If you don’t know, don’t tell me … Look,’ she said, looking over his shoulder. ‘There’s your Eleanor.’
El-la-no.