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A Very Cerberus Christmas is a 45,000-word novel featuring Micah "Snake" Cobreski.
Chapter 1
Lucy
I’ve ignored a lot over the years. It’s a skill I mastered long before I got out of high school. Okay, maybe ignored isn’t the right word. Maybe I’ve learned to not be affected by things is a better way to explain myself because I definitely see the stares each day when I pull up to the school in my ten-year-old car. I notice the cringes on the other parents’ faces and the way they lean their heads in to gossip with moms on the PTA when they see me coming. My child is well behaved, gets good grades, and is very helpful. He’s kind and courteous to other kids and always has a smile on his face. He’s gracious and sweet. And he’s still that kid. The child parents warn their kids to stay away from.
He’s poor. His clothes aren’t designer. Our car isn’t shiny and new. He’s carrying the same backpack in first grade that he carried last year in kindergarten. It’s as if the parents are afraid if their children acknowledge him, his poverty is going to rub off on them and their investments will take a hit overnight. It doesn’t matter how awesome my child is, he’s never going to be accepted because of my income level.
If I could change it, I would, but short of winning the lottery, it’s not going to happen. I can’t even afford to play, and I’d never gamble away the little money we have on chance.
I give my little guy a huge genuine smile when my old clunker pulls up next in line. The teacher frowns when she sees me. She has to take extra caution to walk him around to the driver’s side of my car to help him in because the rear passenger door doesn’t open.
“Have a good day,” she says with little sincerity before walking away, her head shaking as she looks at the other teachers helping with car pickup.
Harley smiles from the back seat, his cheeks pink from standing in the cold, waiting to be picked up.
“Hey, buddy. How was your day at school?”
“Amazing! Did you notice my new jacket?”
“I did,” I say.
The jacket isn’t exactly new, and I was waiting for him to mention it, wondering how he was going to react before speaking on it, but true to form, my child always finds the positive in everything.
“It has a pocket on the inside, but don’t worry, I won’t try to sneak a car to school in it.”
He cuts his eyes out the window in a way that tells me I may have to check his pockets each morning.
The school-donated jacket is just another slap in the face, just another way for the school to tell me I’m a bad mother without actually coming out and saying those exact words. I’ve never sent my child to school hungry or cold. I’d go without before that ever happened, and I have, more than once, but sending him to school in layers to accomplish what he needs to stay warm must be just as bad a thing as nothing at all. I sent him this morning with a thermal t-shirt, a sweater and two hoodies. He was cozy. From the bulge of his backpack, I imagine he has traded most of those for the fleece-lined number he’s now sporting.
I take a calming breath as I wait for traffic to die down enough for me to pull away from the school. It would be easy to point fingers and place the blame at someone else’s feet, but I can own my own faults and choices in life. I was an active participant in my failures. Catching up is always harder than keeping pace, and although I don’t regret a day I’ve had with Harley, I know parenting would be easier had I done it in the right order, namely, not falling in with a man who had no goals in life other than drugs, crime, and screwing over everyone he could before they caught on.
Robbie is different now, but there’s not much the man can do behind the bars of prison. My relationship with Harley’s father was off and on for years, and at any point, I could walk away, but I was as big of a mess and tangled up in the drugs as he was. If I were one to blame other people for my mistakes, I could point the finger at him for handing me that first joint, for prepping that first line of coke, but I was always looking for an escape. It was going to be him or someone else honestly, so there’s no point in assigning blame. I thought it was love. Of course I did. I was young and looking for what I wasn’t getting at home from my smothering parents. I was certain I found that in him.
