Page 111 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

Thanksgiving evening ended at Amelia’s house with reheated plates on our laps and Malik fighting sleep while she asked about everyone he had met. I told her about the food, the card games, and Titan’s unexpected arrival. She listened until Malik’s eyes closed, then helped me settle him in bed.

December came quickly.

I taught extra classes before the studio closed for the holiday. Orders increased for the low-impact workout series, and Naomi helped me hire someone to manage customer service, so I wasn’t answering emails after midnight.

Elijah worked, but his schedule no longer swallowed him without warning.

When he had to cancel dinner, he called instead of sending a rushed message. When surgery kept him at the hospital overnight, he came by the following evening. He sat with Malik through an entire animated movie despite having been awake for more than twenty hours.

He took us to see Christmas lights in Tilles Park. Malik watched the glowing tunnels and moving reindeer through the van window while Christmas music played through the speakers. Elijah drove slowly enough for him to see everything twice.

The following weekend, Elijah helped decorate our tree.

He lifted Malik from his wheelchair and supported him against his chest while Malik placed a Spider-Man ornament on a low branch. I took a picture of them beneath the colored lights—Elijah’s arm secure around my son, Malik smiling as though the tree belonged to him alone.

I looked at that photograph every night before I went to sleep. By Christmas morning, my house no longer resembled the place where only Malik and I lived. Elijah’s shoes rested beside mine near the door. His shaving cream occupied a corner of the bathroom cabinet. A navy sweater hung over the back of my bedroom chair because he had left it there the week before. He hadn’t moved in.

But he was no longer a visitor.

Christmas lights glowed around the living-room windows, throwing red, blue, and gold across the glass. Garland covered the mantel, woven through with small white bulbs and red velvet ribbon. The tree stood in the corner beneath a gold star; its branches heavy with ornaments Malik had collected since birth.

Some were handmade. Some were superheroes. One carried his tiny hospital bracelet inside a clear glass globe. Wrapped gifts filled the space beneath it. The Temptations sang “Silent Night” from the kitchen speaker while cinnamon, butter, and brown sugar warmed the house. Snow had begun falling before sunset. Soft flakes drifted beyond the windows and gathered along the porch rail.

Malik sat near the tree in red plaid pajamas. A Santa hat leaned sideways over his head, and torn wrapping paper surrounded the wheels of his chair. Elijah sat on the floor in front of him, assembling a remote-controlled Batmobile.

“You’ve been working on that for twenty minutes,” I said.

“It has more parts than necessary.”

“You’re a brain surgeon.”

“That has no bearing on the poor design of these instructions.”

He wasn’t irritated. His mouth curved as he fitted one of the wheels into place. Malik watched closely, his hand resting on the remote. Amelia sat on the sofa with a mug of cider.

“He’s waiting on you, Dr. Valentine.”

Elijah looked at her. “After months, I’m still Dr. Valentine?”

“Sometimes.”

“Only when she wants something,” I said.

Amelia smiled into her mug. Elijah attached the final piece and set the car on the floor.

“Try it.”

Malik pressed the control. The Batmobile shot forward, struck the coffee table leg, and spun in place.

His laugh rose over the music. Elijah moved the car into the open space between the sofa and the tree. Malik pressed the button again. This time it traveled across the rug, its headlights flashing blue. Amelia watched them for a while before setting down her empty mug.

“I’m going home.”

I looked toward the window. “It’s snowing.”

“It’s barely covering the grass, and I live ten minutes away.”

“You can stay here.”