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“I don’t call you baby because I don’t like Vanessa. You have a beautiful name.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” I countered.
He didn’t answer.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I repeated.
He stared at me like he was considering it. Then he picked up the phone and held it to his face. “Good night, baby.” He hit the button and hung up on me.
Christmas was wonderful, like always.
We had great food, wine, and so many presents.
I grabbed my wrapped-up painting and then gave it to my mom. “This is for both of you.”
She smiled at my father before she ripped it open.
Uncle Cane and Aunt Adelina sat next to the fire, his arm wrapped around her while they both held glasses of wine. Sapphire wore the new diamond necklace Conway gave her for Christmas. Carter was sitting with his maternal grandparents and his sister, Carmen. Lars was sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire, still strong despite his age and full of life. Everyone was quiet as they watched my parents open it.
My mom ripped off the wrapping then stared at the painting. Several heartbeats passed, and all she did was look. My father stared at it with the same focus, looking at the group photo we took at the dining table last year. Lars was the one taking the picture, but I painted him in anyway.
Mom’s eyes started to water. “Sweetheart…it’s…”
“Beautiful,” my father finished. “Perfect.”
“Amazing,” my mother added. “So much detail.”
Mom looked at me next, her eyes filled with a thin film of moisture. “My baby girl…so talented.” She handed the picture to my father then extended her arms, beckoning me to her.
I left the couch then moved into her lap, letting her circle her arms around me.
She kissed me on the forehead twice and squeezed me. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”
My father wrapped his arms around both of us. “That was very nice, Tesoro.”
“You’re welcome,” I whispered, surrounded by my family’s love.
“You’re so talented,” my mother said. “We’re both very proud.”
Maybe Bones was right. Maybe I really did have a special talent. Maybe I could create paintings that made people feel something. My parents were moved by that painting, just as much as he’d been moved.
Silence passed for several minutes before my mother finally released me.
Conway sighed. “I give them a grandchild, but Vanessa is still their favorite…”
“Leave her alone,” Sapphire said. “That was really sweet.”
“I got my dad that nice gun holster,” Conway argued.
“Well, a gun holster isn’t as touching as a painting,” Uncle Cane said. “Vanessa’s gift kicks our asses.”
Aunt Adelina swatted him on the knee. “Don’t talk like that.”
“What?” Uncle Cane asked. “Everyone here is an adult—except the little one inside Sapphire.”
My mother picked up the painting and carried it to the wall. There was already a picture there, something that had been hanging there since I was young. It was a painting of water lilies in a pond. She quickly removed it because it was the same size and replaced it with mine. “There…that’s perfect.”
“What are you going to do with the old one?” Carter asked.
Mom shrugged. “Throw it away. It’s trash compared to this.”
“Uh,” Conway said. “That’s a Monet…”
“Whatever,” Mom said. “Doesn’t compare to an original Barsetti.”
9
Bones
I sat at my desk in front of the roaring fire, enjoying a large decanter of scotch while the snow fell outside. It was Christmas Day, and I spent all afternoon pretending it was just another day.
But no amount of pretending could change reality.
This was how I spent all my holidays—alone.
Vanessa was with her family, drinking and having a merry time.
I might be doing the same thing—if my parents were alive. If I had a chance to have siblings. Their happiness should be my happiness. I shouldn’t be nursing my regret with booze. Sometimes it made me so spiteful I wanted to go over there and kill them all.
Including Vanessa.
But I kept my distance and tried not to think about their joy.
Vanessa kept asking what my real name was, but I didn’t see why it mattered. I was Bones, plain and simple. No one called me by any other name. My passports didn’t even have my real name either because I traveled under different aliases. It was easy to remain above the law when you weren’t really a person.
The sun set, and the night deepened, but I stayed in my office.
Thinking about my last Christmas with my mother.
She went to work on Christmas Eve, picking up a client from the street. Money was tight that month, and we were being evicted. She had to find the money somewhere—and she wanted to get me a toy for Christmas.
So she met a client that ended up killing her and leaving her in a dumpster.
My mother never came home.
It wasn’t until three days later that the landlord came for his money. He discovered me, called the cops, and that’s when they found her body in the dumpster. I was sent to the orphanage.
