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Chapter 4BeccaI was grateful that Angela had encouraged me to get out of the house. This event was really a great time for the kids.
There were all kinds of activities and games, and a performer with a guitar was on stage, off to the side, putting on a show for them. Apparently, he was well-known in the area, and even had a popular morning program on the local television station, Angela told me.
There was a large table off to one side, where some athletes were sitting and signing autographs. That line was substantial, and even included some grown men unaccompanied by children. By far, though, the longest line was for Santa.
As Angela was the only one of the four of us who wanted to get autographs, she was democratically overruled, but we did enjoy the other areas before getting in the ever-lengthening Santa line. That would be our last stop.
A grown woman in a Santa's Elf costume came through the line and had everyone put their names, children's names, phone and address on the list for Christmas Eve, when Santa’s sleigh would be dropping gifts off at the different houses.
I wondered if there were many military families who hadn’t come out to this event. Would their kids get a visit from Santa?
I could imagine Santa's sleigh coming through the mini suburb that comprised the military housing complex, skipping houses, with a visit to a kid’s playmates but not to them. That would have to be traumatizing for years to come. I imagined a devious parent could use such an experience to their advantage, every time a room needed cleaning.
I hadn’t really been paying attention to Angela, who was talking about some other military wife and neighbor whom I had never met. I had always been glad Mark and I moved out of the military housing when James died.
It was hard to leave the community, but we somehow made it work, and Mark met other kids—ones who wouldn’t have to leave when their parent had to relocate due to a change of station. While upsetting for the kid who had to leave, it could also be upsetting for the friends left behind.
I already knew it would be difficult for both of us if Angela’s husband was relocated and I lost Angela while Mark lost David. But I didn’t like to think about that.
Angela droned on as the boys were darting in and out of the line playing a game of tag and we were essentially planted there, inching forward like snails every so often on their behalf. Parenting was full of such sacrifices.
While Angela was happily married, her husband was overseas more than he was home, which I knew was hard for her. Still, I would never see James again.
I was personally okay with that, as we were never happy, but I never wanted him dead, of course. I still grieved for Mark having to grow up without a dad. Not only would it have been nice to have a partner, someone to share in the work around the house, but there were also things a boy needed his father for, and I would never be able to completely fill that role.
Somehow Mark and I made it work and had developed a routine. I fit the little things like cooking meals, laundry, dishes, into the morning or evening, before or after working at the gallery. Most weekends were saved for bigger projects like fixing this cabinet and painting that room.
I had a list going. I loved making lists and checking off items as I completed them.
There was always something, but I had, over time, learned how to be self-sufficient. I could probably make some side money creating a DIY YouTube channel for other single moms or military wives whose husbands were deployed, causing them to raise children on their own, yet that was something I definitely never managed to find the time for.
As the line moved forward, I could hear Santa talking to each kid and family as they came up to him. That voice. Deep and husky.
Where do I know him from?
I was trying to place it, while looking at him. I was wondering if there was something familiar under the white hair and beard, and stuffing for the belly. I had had an occasional handyman over here and there throughout the years.
Is that it?
Or was he my barista in town?
While I was still staring without meaning to, Santa looked up and seemed to be searching the line when his eyes stopped on me. He seemed to be smiling at me. I got goose bumps at the familiar eyes I saw peeking out from behind the fake Santa glasses.
Oh my God. Is that Neil Bowman? Shit.
It had been years since high school, but I still couldn’t bring myself to smile back.
