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Her words struck a chord deep within me.
“Then. . .” I gathered myself. “Then, I promise I’ll do my best to stay with you.”
“Good.” Carmen looked at Zuri and whispered, “Mommy is lonely.”
“What?” Obviously caught off guard, Zuri quickly shook her head and steadied her voice. “Carmen, that’s not true.”
Carmen bobbed her head. “It is. You cry sometimes at night.”
A wave of guilt washed over me.
The pain and loneliness Zuri must have endured all these years, much of it because of my absence, hit me with renewed force.
I reached my hand out to Zuri, needing to comfort her. “I’m sorry.”
Surely embarrassed, she shook her head. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I sighed. “I promise to do better.”
She swallowed. “I know you will.”
Carmen sipped her tea, seemingly unbothered by the heavy conversation going on between us. “Daddy, do you have space toys?”
“Umm.” I blinked. “No. Unfortunately, I don’t have any.”
“That’s okay. We can play with mine.” She gestured to a large pink box full of toys. “And Santa’s gonna bring lots of presents this year because I’ve been good. A new dollhouse. A giant teddy bear friend for Bunny B and Mr. Snuggles. And Foxie Cherry! She’s my mostest favorite.”
Zuri’s face tensed slightly at the mention of Foxie Chery. “Sweetie, remember, Santa tries his best, but sometimes he can’t bring exactly what we ask for.”
“But Mommy, Santa can do anything!”
“Don’t worry, Zuri,” I chimed in with confidence. “I have a feeling Santa definitely brought Foxie Cherry this year. Definitely.”
Zuri gave me a skeptical look. “Definitely?”
“Up in space, I’ve had some communications with special people and the Foxie Cherry is a go.”
That skepticism never left Zuri’s face.
I whispered, “We’ll talk later.”
As we continued the tea party, chatting and laughing over our imaginary feast, I felt my connection with Carmen strengthening. Hopefully, each giggle, each wide-eyed question, bridged some of the years of absence and maybe even weaved a bond that I was determined to nurture and grow for the rest of my life.
But, after an hour filled with laughter and play, Carmen’s energy began to wane. Her eyelids drooped slightly. Next, she kept on rubbing those eyes.
Zuri frowned. “Carmen, sweetie, it’s time for your nap.”
“I’m not tired, Mommy.” She pouted. “I’m inner-thighs.”
“Energized.” Zuri put her cup down. “It was a big day today with church and. . .daddy. Plus, you haven’t had a nap today.”
Carmen backed up from the table and raised her hands in the air like the cops had busted in, catching her with drugs. “Mommy, no nap. Please.”
“I’m sorry, but naps are so you can be a big girl—”
“I don’t want to be a big girl—”
“Well, you still have to take a nap—”
“No nap, Mommy. I want Daddy to read me a story.”
Her words filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt in years. Eager to seize this moment of connection, I nodded in agreement. “I’d love to read a story, but. . .um. . .if that is okay with your mom.”
“Fine.” Zuri shrugged. “Daddy can read you a story while you lay in bed for your nap.”
Pouting, Carmen scurried off to her bookshelf and came back holding at least seven colorful children’s books in her arms. She struggled to keep them all balanced.
“No.” Zuri scowled. “Just one book.”
Carmen—after a moment of contemplation—handed me one book and put the rest back.
I took in the book.
A Christmas Carol.
The cover showed a jolly man with a white beard, surrounded by a festive wreath. This had been one of my favorite stories growing up.
Carmen put the other books up and then rubbed her eyes. “Story time.”
With Bunny B, she hurried across the room to her bed, a small island of comfort amidst the sea of toys and colorful drawings. The bed had fluffy pillows and a comfy duvet.
I pushed myself up from the floor, feeling like a giant in this small, whimsical world of hers.
Zuri stood. “I’ll finish putting up the rest of the groceries.”
“Rest. I can do that.”
Zuri waved me away. “I’ve got it.”
Carrying the book, I went over and sat down beside Carmen.
The bed creaked slightly under my weight.
She nestled herself under her blanket. “Ready.”
I opened A Christmas Carol to the first page. The words, familiar yet new in this context. “Marly was dead, to begin with.”
I blinked and cleared my throat. “There is no doubt whatever about that.”
Carmen shifted closer and put her view on the book. “Who’s Marly, Daddy?”
“Marly was a man who used to work with Mr. Scrooge. They were business partners.”
“Like friends?”
“Sort of, but they were more like. . .work friends.”
“Like Mommy’s work friend , Mr. Marcelo.”
I quirked my brows. “Who?”
“He’s big like you daddy, but not as big.”
Hmmm.
I continued reading, “The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.”
Carmen widened her eyes. “Everyone signed.”
“Yep.” I turned back to the book. “Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course, he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner—”
