So did I.
And I wished with all my heart I could give it to him.
“That was really good,” Parker said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “But I’m still hungry.”
“Of course you are.” I kept the sigh to myself. My boy was strong and healthy, but average height and weight for his eight years. However, his appetite had recently increased, giving me a glimpse of what it might be like in a few years when he had the hunger of a teenage boy. “Why don’t you take our plates to the sink and I’ll get dessert.”
Parker popped up and I plucked small plates out of the cabinet above his head as he scraped food scraps into the trash can. It was hard to imagine that one day we’d be the same height. It was even harder to imagine having to look up to see his face. I was in no hurry to have my adorable little boy grow up too fast, but he seemed to be in a rush. Every month he seemed more responsible and mature. Maybe it was from being an only child?
I made myself some tea and got milk for Parker, and then I placed the small white box in front of him. “Can you open that?”
“Sure—oh.” He stared at the two cupcakes with elaborately swirled icing on top. “It’s your birthday. I thought we were going to have cake.”
“Cupcakes are cake. Besides, I’ve got to watch my waistline this time of the year, and you still want to bake Christmas cookies on Saturday, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Carefully, he lifted the cupcakes out and put one on each of our plates. “These are new!”
I smiled at his terminology. Occasionally, I was able to bring home food that was a bit stale or past its prime from the diner, but these cupcakes were from a nearby bakery, not my workplace. I knew Parker would’ve preferred a cake, but it was more important for him to have a good Christmas than for me to have a real birthday cake. And lord knew I’d be paying off the credit card bill for his presents for quite some time.
I peeled off the paper wrapping and held the cupcake up, trying to figure out how to take a bite without smashing icing into my nose.
“Wait.” Parker put his hand on my arm. “I know it’s not a real cake with candles, but you should make a wish anyway.”
“Good idea.” I reached out and ruffled his light brown hair. He was such a good kid. “What should I wish for?”
“Whatever you want, only you can’t tell me.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, taking my task seriously—because Parker took it seriously. What should I wish for? In high school, before I got pregnant at the beginning of my senior year, I would’ve wished to meet a great guy and fall in love. But I already had a great guy—Parker. So I squeezed my eyes tighter and wished what I prayed for every night. For my son to be happy, and healthy, and loved.
“All done. Now we’d better finish these so we have time to trim the tree.”
An hour later, the table was covered with bits of string, colored paper, glue, and glitter. So much glitter. But the little tree in the corner was looking a lot more festive. In addition to a string of golden lights, it sported paper chains, cut-out snowflakes, construction paper candy canes, and more. “How do you think it looks?”
Parker moved around the living room and studied it. “Pretty good, but we need more stuff on the right side.” He hurried back the table, but I put out my hand to stop him.
“We’ll have to finish on Saturday, or there won’t be enough time for you to do your spelling homework and take a bath before bed.”
“Aw, Mom, I want to finish tonight. Can’t I skip my bath?”
“Have you looked in the mirror?” I teased. “You’re covered in more glitter than most of the ornaments.”
Parker looked down at his arms and laughed. He’d pushed up his sleeves, and now his forearms were covered in what looked like metallic green freckles. “Okay, but I still have to give you your birthday present. Well, it’s for your birthday and Christmas, but I want you to open it now.” He dashed into his room.
Warmth flooded through me. I had no idea what he’d gotten, but that didn’t matter. What mattered is he’d wanted to do this for me.
Like a whirlwind, he re-entered the kitchen, dropping a construction-paper card on my lap. I grabbed his wrist before he could rush off again. “Hey, wait a minute.” I pulled him toward me and tilted my head down, touching my nose lightly to his. “Thank you.”
He scrunched his nose up and giggled. “You don’t even have the present yet. It’s not wrapped, but it’s in a fancy box.”
Parker wiggled out of my grasp and ran to fish something out of his coat that hung by the door. The card he’d made was on yellow paper. The front said “Happy Birthday” in his familiar printing. Inside, there was a picture of the two of us holding hands. It read: “I love you, Mommy.”
Blinking back tears, I watched while he approached with one hand behind his back. His eyes shone, and for about the millionth time, I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky to get a son like him.
“For you.” He thrust a small black box into my hands.
Curiously, I took it, intrigued by the pretty little silver and black box. It wasn’t one I recognized, but it looked fancy. Really fancy. Maybe he’d found the box somewhere? It wasn’t big, and Parker was fond of painting rocks to look like animals. Maybe one was inside? I shook it gently—it didn’t feel like a rock.
Carefully, I pried the top of the box off. A layer of silver tissue paper covered a thick white cushion. I lifted it and stared at what was underneath it.
And stared.
And stared some more.
“Do you like them, Mommy? They’re really shiny. I thought they’d look pretty on your ears.”
Silence grew around us, and I knew I had to say something. “Um, yes, they’re really pretty.”
And real, my mind screamed. They looked real. But they couldn’t be, could they?
“Good.” His mind apparently at ease, Parker rocked on his heels and looked up at me. “I wanted to get you something special since your birthday and Christmas are so close together.”
“Y-you did. Very special. Thank you.”
“Are you going to put them on?”
I couldn’t seem to draw my eyes away from the sparkle of what appeared to be real diamonds. “Yes, I will, but not while I’m covered in paste and scraps of paper. Let’s wait until I have something nicer on, okay?”
“Okay.” He seemed unaware of how hard it was for me to keep my voice steady. “Should I get my spelling worksheet?”
“Not just yet,” I said. “We’ve still got to clean up all this stuff. And maybe while we’re doing that, you can tell me where you got these gorgeous earrings.”
3
Mason
Seven days before Christmas
Late Friday afternoon, I returned to my office with a spring in my step. I tossed my briefcase on my desk and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. Selecting a bottle, I poured amber liquid into two glasses and waited.
Patricia entered the office and raised an eyebrow. “Good day?”