“It’s nice having a week off school.” I don’t want to talk about Mom or our traditions, how it is now that he’s gone. “Are you doing anything for Christmas?”
“I’m going down to Victoria to stay with my sponsor. First Christmas out might be hard. I’ll go to a few AA meetings when I’m there.” He looks at me. “It means a lot, you being here tonight. I was going to get a tree but I didn’t have time.”
“It’s okay. The plant is festive.”
We both take another mouthful, blowing on the spoons at the exact same time to cool the chili off. I study his face.
“Do you look like your dad or your mom?” I say.
“Probably more like my dad.” He takes a handful of chips and crunches them up on top of his bowl. “Try this.” I can tell he wants to change the subject, so we talk about what TV shows he’s been watching and what else he’s been learning to cook.
After dinner we clean up the kitchen. I wash while he dries. I think back to when I was a kid, but I don’t remember him ever cleaning up—he always left it for Mom.
“It’s really nice having you here,” he says. “The nights can be long. I’m used to having a lot of noise around me. I have to sleep with the TV on now.”
“Maybe you could get a dog.”
“I’ll think about that. Might be nice to have the company.”
“We adopted a dog,” I say as I pass him another plate to dry. “His name’s Angus.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “He’s just a big shaggy thing.”
“That’s great. Your mom always liked dogs.”
I want to tell him more, want to say that Angus is a really protective of Mom, and that he follows her around the house and sleeps with her at night, but he’ll know why I’m telling him and I don’t want to make him mad.
“You guys have anything else weird happen?” he says, reaching up to put a plate away.
“What do you mean?”
He picks up another dish. “Like someone going into your house. That’s why she got the dog, right? What’s her boyfriend like?” His questions are so fast, I don’t have time to think.
“It’s been okay. Greg is nice—he helped her put in a dog door.”
He stops drying. “A dog door? Why the hell would she do that?”
I flinch, startled by his tone, like Mom is the stupidest woman on the planet or something.
“She had to because she works long hours and we figured it would be okay because no one could fit through it. If they did, Angus will bite their head off. He’s really big.”
His shoulders drop, but it’s more like he’s forcing them down, reminding himself to relax. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I went all crazy protective dad there for a moment.”
“Yeah. A little.”
“Sounds like your mom has it covered. I’m glad she has someone who can help her out.” He dries a few more dishes. “You trust this Greg guy?”
“He’s super-harmless. He’d do anything for her. Like he’s running around getting stuff for her Christmas party tomorrow.” He glances at me and I realize that I said way more than I should have. Mom would kill me. “She’s having lots of people over. Lots.”
“Good for her.”
He actually does sound kind of relieved. I must have misunderstood the reason for the questions. He was making sure we were both okay. We wash the last few dishes in silence.
When we’re finished, he says, “I know you can’t stay long, but I’ve got something I want to give you. Go sit on the couch for a second and I’ll grab it, okay?” He goes into his bedroom and comes out carrying a wrapped box. “I’m not very good at wrapping.”
My face feels warm as I take the silver paper off. I can feel him watching me from the other end of the couch. I’m worried I won’t like it and won’t be able to hide my expression. When I get the last bit of paper off, I stare in surprise, reach out a finger to stroke the beautiful wooden box. It’s about ten by ten, smells like fresh cedar, and gleams with a glossy golden stain.
“You made this?” My voice feels thick and scratchy.
“One of the guys I work with lent me his tools and shop. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy working with my hands. I thought you might want somewhere to keep your art supplies.”
“This is really awesome,” I say. “It must have taken you days.” He has lots of money. He could have bought me anything, but he chose to make me something special.
“I have a lot of free time.”
“Thank you so much. I love it.” I look over at him and I can tell he’s pleased at my reaction. “I didn’t bring you anything.”
“No.” He’s shaking his head. “You didn’t have to. Next year, right?”