Chapter 74

They managed to convince me to join in the fun. I’d never seen the movie but did my best to participate and to cover for Axel when he slunk away to call his sister. When the princesses got their happily ever after, Axel took Beatrice to bed while I stayed on the couch.

The room was sparsely decorated with old, worn-down furniture. The couch was lumpy, the coffee table rickety, and the only other thing in the room beside the TV was a plain bookcase filled with children’s books and Beatrice’s toys. Tucked away in the corner was a small Christmas tree decorated with twinkle lights and black ball ornaments. I hadn’t even known there was such a thing as black baubles, but I suspected Axel had had a hand in decorating it. Had he wrapped the presents in black paper, too?

That was all. No pictures from when Bea was a baby. No extravagances. Only the bare necessities.

I got to my feet, walked over to the window, and peered out into the darkness. Where had Axel’s sister gone, and why had she left Bea alone? I wasn’t an expert on kids—I’d been long gone when my cousins started having babies—but even I knew four-year-olds weren’t supposed to be left all by themselves.

Sighing, I turned my back to the window and sank down on the floor next to the tree. I leaned in and inhaled the comforting scent of the fir. Axel’s voice drifted out of Bea’s room as he read to her and a sense of peace washed over me for the first time all day.

This Christmas hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected. Not that I’d thought a lot about it, just assumed it would play out the way it always did. I wouldn’t have guessed when I woke up this morning that my Christmas would involve being attacked by a relative, storming out of my mom’s house, meeting a soft-hearted giant, and singing along to Disney-movies with a little girl.

I should have known better than to listen to my mom and come out to the entire family. Especially today of all days. But she’d been so certain. “It will be okay, Daniel,” she had assured me over and over again. And then it hadn’t.

My uncle Bob had been drunk when he’d arrived with his wife and my cousins and their kids and he’d spent the entire dinner talking crap about everyone—even telling my mom that my dad wouldn’t have run out on her if she’d been a better wife to him. It hadn’t been the first time he’d made that particularly charming comment, but just like every other occasion, my mom had physically dragged me out of the room and begged me not to interfere when I’d opened my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself.

I’d had a bad feeling from the second he’d showed up and it had only grown worse as the day progressed. When my mom had announced “Daniel has something to tell you,” I’d felt like I was hurtling down a steep slope in a bobsled with busted breaks, but I’d still told them my secret.

My uncle had exploded, there was no other word for it. He’d screamed and yelled and been belligerent. I’d tried to keep my mouth shut, but I’d been pissed at him all day, and especially since he’d been a shithead to my mom. It had been doomed from the start. I’d had enough of his bigotry for one day and when he’d started calling me a fucking faggot fudge-packerand everyone had averted their eyes and said nothing, I’d had it. If I never saw him again, it would be too soon.

I fished out my phone from my pocket and pressed the speed-dial for my mom.

She picked up immediately. “Daniel, thank God! Are you all right?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Her voice was thick with worry and I had no trouble imagining her sitting in her favorite chair with one eye on her knitting and the other on the door, waiting for me to come back home. She’d done it a million times when I was a teenager after all.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier.”

She blew out a loud sigh. “I was so worried. You left without your jacket.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Oh Jeez. You’re an idiot sometimes, Daniel William Erickson. I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry.”

She’d said those exact words to me a million times and they were strangely comforting. “I’m sorry I stormed out, but I couldn’t listen to him anymore. I would have punched him for being an ass to you.”

“Hush now. You did what you had to do.”

I lay on my side and curled into a ball. Her understanding and unconditional love found its way straight to my heart like it always did. What would I do without her? “I love you, mom.”

“You, too, my dearest boy.” After a moment’s hesitation, she continued, “I’m so sorry I didn’t stand up for you. Or myself. I don’t mean to be a disappointment.”

“Don’t say that, Mom!” Her brother was a bully and my dad abandoning her had made her timid and afraid to stand up to anyone. She hadn’t been like that at all when I’d been a kid.