Authors: Rainbow Rowell
yelled. ‘If I knew that you wanted
boxes for Christmas, I would have
saved myself some money.’
That
silenced
everyone.
Nobody had expected Richie to
buy Christmas presents. ‘I should
make you wait until Christmas
morning,’ he said, ‘but I’m sick of
watching this.’
He put his cigarette in his
mouth and put his boots on. They
heard the truck door open, and
then Richie was back with a big
ShopKo bag. He started throwing
boxes onto the floor.
‘Mouse,’ he said. A remote-
control monster truck.
‘Ben.’ A big racetrack.
‘Maisie … cause you like to
sing.’
Richie
pulled
out
a
keyboard, an actual electronic
keyboard. It was probably some
off-brand, but still. He didn’t drop
it on the floor. He handed it to
Maisie.
‘And Little Richie … where’s
Little Richie?’
‘He’s taking a nap,’ their mom
said.
Richie shrugged and threw a
teddy bear onto the floor. The bag
was empty, and Eleanor felt cold
with relief.
Then Richie took out his
wallet and pulled out a bill.
‘Here, Eleanor, come get it.
Buy
yourself
some
normal
clothes.’
She looked at her mother,
standing
blank-faced
in
the
kitchen doorway, then walked
over to take the money. It was a
fifty.
‘Thank you.’ Eleanor said it as
flatly as possible. Then she went
to sit on the couch. The little kids
were all opening their presents.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Mouse kept
saying. ‘Oh man, thanks, Dad!’
‘Yeah,’ Richie said, ‘you’re
welcome. You’re welcome. That’s
a real Christmas.’
Richie stayed home all day to
watch the little kids play with their
toys. Maybe the Broken Rail
wasn’t open on Christmas Eve.
Eleanor went to her bedroom to
get away from him. (And to get
away
from
Maisie’s
new
keyboard.) She was tired of
missing Park. She just wanted to
see him. Even if he
did
think she
was a perverted psychopath who
wrote herself badly punctuated
threats. Even if he
had
spent his
formative years tongue-kissing
Tina. None of it was vile enough
to make Eleanor stop wanting
him. (How vile would that have to
be? she wondered.) Maybe she
should just go over to his house
right now and pretend that nothing
had happened. Maybe she would,
if it wasn’t Christmas Eve. Why
didn’t Jesus ever work
with
her?
Later, her mom came in to say
they were going to the store to buy
groceries for Christmas dinner.
‘I’ll come out and watch the
kids,’ Eleanor said.
‘Richie wants us all to go,’ her
mom said, smiling, ‘as a family.’
‘But, Mom …’
‘None of this, Eleanor,’ she
said softly, ‘we’re having a good
day.’
‘Mom, come on – he’s been
drinking all day.’
Her mom shook her head.
‘Richie’s fine, he never has a
problem with driving.’
‘I don’t think the fact that he
drinks and drives all the time is a
very good argument.’
‘You just can’t stand this, can
you?’ her mom said quietly,
angrily, stepping into the room
and shutting the door behind her.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know that
you’re going through …’ She
looked at Eleanor, then shook her
head again. ‘
Something
. But
everyone else in this house is
having a great day. Everyone else
in this house deserves a great day.
‘We’re a family, Eleanor. All
of us. Richie, too. And I’m sorry
that makes you so unhappy. I’m
sorry that things aren’t perfect
here all the time for you … But
this is our life now. You can’t
keep throwing tantrums about it,
you
can’t
keep
trying
to
undermine this family – I won’t
let
you.’
Eleanor clenched her jaw.
‘I have to think of everyone,’
her
mom
said.
‘Do
you
understand? I have to think of
myself. In a few years, you’ll be
on your own, but Richie is my
husband.’
She almost sounded sane,
Eleanor thought. If you didn’t
know that she was acting rational
on the far side of crazy.
‘Get up,’ her mother said, ‘and
put on your coat.’
Eleanor put on her coat and
her new hat and followed her
brothers and sisters into the back
of the Isuzu.
When they got to Food 4 Less,
Richie waited in the truck while
everybody else went in. As soon
as they were inside, Eleanor put
the wadded-up fifty in her
mother’s hand.
Her mother didn’t thank her.
Park
They were shopping for Christmas
dinner, and it was taking forever
because it always made Park’s
mom nervous to cook for his
grandmother.
‘What
kind
of
stuffing
Grandma like?’ his mom asked.
‘Pepperidge Farm,’ Park said,
standing on the back of the cart
and popping a wheelie.
‘Pepperidge Farm original? Or
Pepperidge Farm cornbread?’
‘I don’t know, original.’
‘If you don’t know, don’t tell
me … Look,’ she said, looking
over his shoulder. ‘There’s your
Eleanor.’
El-la-no
.
Park whipped around and saw
Eleanor standing by the meat case
with all four of her red-headed
brothers and sisters. (Except none
of them had red hair standing next
to Eleanor. Nobody did.) A
woman walked up to the cart and
set down a turkey.
That must be Eleanor’s mom,
Park thought, she looked just like
her. But sharper and with more
shadows. Like Eleanor, but taller.
Like Eleanor, but tired. Like
Eleanor, after the fall.
Park’s mom was staring at
them, too.
‘Mom,
come
on,’
Park
whispered.
‘Aren’t you going to say hi?’
she asked.
Park shook his head, but
didn’t turn away. He didn’t think
Eleanor would want him to, and
even if she did, he didn’t want to
get her in trouble. What if her
stepdad was here, too?
Eleanor
looked
different,
drabber than usual. There was
nothing hanging from her hair or
magpie-tied to her wrists …
She still looked beautiful. His
eyes missed her as much as the
rest of him. He wanted to run to
her and tell her – tell her how
sorry he was and how much he
needed her.
She didn’t see him.
‘Mom,’ he whispered again,
‘come on.’
Park thought his mom might say
something more about it in the
car, but she was quiet. When they
got home, she said she was tired.
She asked Park to bring in the
groceries, then she spent the rest
of the afternoon in her room with
the door closed.
His dad went in to check on
her at dinner time, and an hour
later, when they both came out,
his dad said they were going to
Pizza
Hut
for
dinner.
‘On
Christmas Eve?’ Josh said. They
always had waffles and watched
movies on Christmas Eve. They’d
already rented
Billy Jack
. ‘Get in
the car,’ his dad said. Park’s
mom’s eyes were red, and she
didn’t bother reapplying her eye
makeup before they left.
When they got home, Park
went straight to his room. He just
wanted to be alone to think about
seeing Eleanor – but his mom
came in a few minutes later. She
sat on his bed without making a
single wave.
She held out a Christmas
present. ‘This … is for your
Eleanor,’ she said. ‘From me.’
Park looked at the gift. He
took it, but shook his head.
‘I don’t know if I’ll have a
chance to give it to her.’
‘Your Eleanor,’ she said, ‘she
come from big family.’
Park shook the present gently.
‘I come from big family,’ his
mom said. ‘Three little sisters.
Three little brothers.’ She held out
her hand, as if she were patting six
heads.
She’d had a wine cooler with
dinner, and you could tell. She
almost never talked about Korea.
‘What were their names?’ Park
asked.
His mom’s hand settled gently
in her lap.
‘In big family,’ she said,
‘everything … everybody spread
so thin. Thin like paper, you
know?’ She made a tearing
gesture. ‘You know?’
Maybe two wine coolers.
‘I’m not sure,’ Park said.
‘Nobody gets enough,’ she
said. ‘Nobody gets what they
need. When you always hungry,
you get hungry in your head.’ She
tapped her forehead. ‘You know?’
Park wasn’t sure what to say.
‘You don’t know,’ she said,
shaking her head. ‘I don’t want
you to know … I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said.
‘I’m
sorry
for
how
I
welcomed your Eleanor.’
‘Mom, it’s okay. This isn’t
your fault.’
‘I don’t think I say this right
…’
‘It’s okay, Mindy,’ Park’s dad
said softly from the doorway.
‘Come to bed, honey.’ He walked
over to the bed and helped Park’s
mom up, then stood with his arm
wrapped protectively around her.
‘Your mom just wants you to be
happy,’ he said to Park. ‘Don’t
puss out on our account.’
His mother frowned, like she
wasn’t sure whether that counted
as a dirty word.
Park waited until the TV was off
in his parents’ room. Then he
waited a half-hour after that. Then
he grabbed his coat and slipped
out the back door, on the far side
of the house.
He ran until he got to the end
of the alley.
Eleanor was so close.
Her stepdad’s truck was in the
driveway. Maybe that was good;
Park wouldn’t want him coming
home while Park was standing
there on the front porch. All the
lights were off, as far as Park
could tell, and there was no sign
of the dog …
He climbed the steps as quietly
as possible.
He knew which room was
Eleanor’s. She’d told him once
that she slept by the window, and
he knew she had the top bunk. He
stood to the side of the window,
so he wouldn’t cast a shadow. He
was going to tap softly, and if
anyone but Eleanor looked out, he
was going to run for his life.
Park tapped the top of the
glass. Nothing happened. The
curtain, or the sheet or whatever it
was, didn’t move.
She was probably sleeping. He
tapped a little harder and got ready
to run. The side of the sheet
opened just a sliver, but he
couldn’t see in.
Should he run? Should he
hide?
He stepped in front of the
window. The sheet opened wider.
He could see Eleanor’s face, she
looked terrified.
‘Go,’ she mouthed.
He shook his head.
‘Go,’ she mouthed again. Then
she pointed away. ‘School,’ she
said. At least that’s what he
thought she said. Park ran away.
Eleanor
All Eleanor could think was that if
somebody
were
breaking
in
through
this
window, how was
she supposed to escape and call
911?
Not that the police would even
come after last time. But at least
she could wake that bastard Gil up
and eat his goddamn brownies.
Park was the last person she
expected to see standing there.
Her heart leapt out to him
before she could stop it. He was
going to get them both killed.