*****

  For only a four-hour shift, I am beat. The diner was a non-stop barrage of shoppers. We had mostly to-go orders, but they were huge. Most people don’t want to cook after spending the day searching for the perfect gift for the ones they love. I did most of my shopping before Thanksgiving; therefore, I’m just waiting on a few things to be delivered. Lake doesn’t ever ask for a lot, so what he does ask for I try to get him. Thanks to Mom not charging me rent, I can afford those things.

  As I walk up the driveway, I grab the snow shovel kept beside the house and begin throwing the heavy snow to the side so people can get in and out without getting stuck. Before I know it, I’ve shoveled our sidewalk, driveway, and both neighbors on each side of us. My fingers are frozen numb, and I think a few of my toes fell off, or they are just frozen solid, as well.

  When I enter the house, the smell of my mom’s homemade chicken soup, popcorn, and coffee fill the air. I hear The Little Drummer Boy playing on the radio in the living room. This is what the holiday is supposed to smell and sound like. I stop off in the kitchen and lift the lid off the pot I know is the soup, wafting the steam towards my nose, deeply inhaling the scent of deliciousness. I pour myself some of warm, delicious-smelling java and make my way to the living room. All the boxes that had been scattered everywhere are now neatly stacked in a corner, and a six-foot Spruce is nicely standing against the one window in the room.

  “Wow, it smells like the forest in here. Where did this tree come from?” I ask as I take a sip from the mug that is warming my hands.

  “Papa brought it. Isn’t it huge, Dad?” Lake and Kelly are sitting on the couch where they have already strung what looks to be about four bowls of popcorn, give or take what they haven’t eaten themselves.

  “Yeah, son, it sure is.” I walk over to the chair Mom is sitting in as she tries to untangle the Christmas lights.

  “Damn it, Creek, every year I ask you to wrap the lights around the spindle, and every year I have to untangle them. It’s exhausting,” she says throwing the ball of lights she was just holding.

  “And every year you get flustered, turn red, and use swear words. It’s like a Christmas tradition. You’re always saying we need to have a tradition.” The room erupts into giggles but not from Mom.

  “Only a lazy man would say that,” she retorts, picking the ball up for one more try. I see Kelly cover her mouth, holding back a laugh after my mother’s reply.

  Lake and Kelly hang the popcorn garland they have just finished and wrap it around the tree. I have untangled two sets of lights, put them on the tree, and plugged them in. Mom calls out that the soup is ready, and we all file into the kitchen where she already has bowls filled up and a plate full of homemade buttermilk biscuits. There are only three chairs at the table, so I give Kelly mine as I lean against the counter holding the bowl of yumminess.

  “Did you do some work for school today?” I ask Lake before shoveling a big spoonful noodles into my mouth.

  “Yes, Dad. I did some math, some spelling, and read a book.” I watch as my son only sips the broth wondering if he is feeling queasy.

  “Good. Is your tummy not feeling good?” I set my bowl down to see if he is running a fever. “A little. I love Nana’s soup, so I will just drink the juice, if that’s okay?” I nod my head, and we resume eating.

  “I have something for your tummy if you need it, Lake,” Kelly says getting up from her seat and leaving the room. When she returns, she has a bottle in her hand. “You can take this pink stuff first to see if it helps, or I can give you a shot of Zofran?” Lake sits and think for a second and picks the pink stuff (Pepto).

  “Geesh, this stuff is gross! Maybe I should have took the shot. Yuck.” Lake wipes his mouth and ingests a hearty gulp of his water in hopes of the nasty taste leaving. We all laugh at the faces he is making. The kid is hilarious.

  Chapter 8.

  Lake went to bed early. He wasn’t in the mood for a movie, but he wanted to put the angel on the top of the tree because it’s his job. Mom tucked him in, and Kelly took his vitals as we skyped Dr. Courtney. She asked Lake how he was feeling. He told her his tummy felt like he was on a rollercoaster. She asked if he’d like Kelly to give him the shot and his exact words were, “I would rather show Kelly one of my butt cheeks than taste that pink slime again.” He was informed that it could be given through his tube, so Nurse Kelly would not have to see his butt. So, now, along with the Children’s Motrin, he will get a small dose of the anti-nausea medication before his treatment. Other than today’s tummy upset, Dr. Courtney says everything looks good. She wants the nurse to take some blood the day after tomorrow that will be picked up and brought back to the hospital, so they can see if the chemo is making any progress.

  We finished the tree, Kelly and me. I washed the dirty dishes and made some cocoa for us. “Want to watch a movie?” I ask as I carry in two steaming cups of chocolatey goodness.

  “Sure, anything but A Christmas Story,” she states as she releases her hair from the bun she had it in, and it falls, cascading over her shoulders.

  “Oh, you can’t possibly despise a holiday cult classic such as A Christmas Story. I think that is like against some Christmas law.” I let out a laugh as I feel a relief fall on my heart.

  “Well, sometimes you just got to live on the edge,” she says blowing on her cocoa before taking a sip.

  “Thank god. I really hate that movie. What would you like to watch?” I ask as I point to the shelves that house my unhealthy DVD obsession. Most people have Netflix; I prefer to own my favorites.

  “How about Die Hard? That should be a required Christmas cult classic,” she says matter-of-factly. I power up the player, grab the case that houses the Die-Hard DVD, taking it out and putting it into the machine. She is sitting on one end of the couch as I take my seat at the other. We settle in for some John McLane action.

  Once the movie ends, Kelly goes to check on Lake while I take our dirty cocoa mugs to the kitchen. After Kelly has finished, she joins me in the kitchen and opens up her laptop to enter my son’s vitals.

  “Would you like another cup of cocoa?” I ask before washing and putting away our mugs.

  “No, I will get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Thank you, though.” She removes her water then sits back down. After my task is done, I grab myself a bottle and join her.

  “So, Kelly, are you from Ohio?” I open my bottle, taking a big drink.

  “Yes, from Sandusky,” she says closing her screen. “I recently moved to Cincinnati after finishing my clinical courses and was hired at the Children’s Hospital.” She lifts her legs and sits Indian-style in the chair. She is tiny; curvy, but tiny.

  “What made you want to work with ill kids? Some terminal. I’m having a rough time trying not to fall apart in front of my son; I couldn’t imagine getting close to those poor kids then having to watch them suffer.” I cringe at the thought, remembering what I felt when Lake was diagnosed the first time and watching him go through the chemo.

  “I’ve only been with the hospital a few months, so I haven’t worked with a lot of the kids. But my decision to become a pediatric nurse for children with cancer came from watching my childhood friend go from a healthy, high school cheerleading captain to a bed-ridden and frail scared girl.

  “Beth was my neighbor and best friend since I was two. We did everything together, from starting kindergarten to the cheerleading squad. She was beautiful, tall, blonde, and smart. I was her total opposite.

  “One day, we were at practice, and Beth got a cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I remember sitting in the waiting room with her siblings for what we thought would be her getting stitched up to her mom emerging from the ER with tears cascading down her face. When the doctors had a hard time stopping the bleeding, they ran some tests and found out Beth had leukemia.

  “I knew what the disease was and knew it was bad. I begged my mom to homeschool me, so I could be there for Beth during her chemo and help her through the effects of the treatment. We were told that the drugs were doing nothing but slowing the progression of the cancer, and it was just wearing her down. Faced with the doctor’s prognosis. Beth decided she wanted to live what time she had left without the all the side effects that chemotherapy brought with it. I stayed with her, held her, and then watched her take her last breath only six months after her diagnosis. She was only sixteen, and I recognized then that I wanted to help kids with cancer. I will be applying to med school next year to become a pediatric cancer specialist.” Her eyes shimmer from the tears threatening to fall.

  “Beth was lucky to have a friend like you by her side ‘til the end.” I grab her hand that is resting on the table top and give it a squeeze. She squeezes me back before I move my hand away.

  Chapter 9.

  I went to bed thinking about Kelly’s story and how hard all that must have been for a teenage girl to see and go through. I crawled into bed with Lake so that I could hold him close. I’ve witnessed the effects cancer treatments have on a child’s body. On my son’s first round, I watched his body slowly get frail. I was so scared of losing him that I begged God to give all of Lake’s pain and sickness to me; I was bigger and stronger. But through God’s grace, he got better. I thank Him every day for not taking my boy from me. Now, I’m back to praying that he doesn’t leave this earth.

  “Dad. Dad! You’re squeezing my life out!” I feel his body squirm. “Dad, why are you in my bed? It’s not big enough for us both,” he says as I loosen my hold. “What are you, too big to share a bed with your dad now? I remember a time when you would sneak into mine in the middle of the night.” I open my eyes to see Kelly standing next to the bed smiling at our exchange.

  “Morning, gentlemen. Lake, time to take your Motrin and Zofran. Do you want toast or maybe some fruit salad?” I look at her puzzled because when I went to bed, there was no fruit in the house. I had a grocery list made up and put it on the fridge door that I had intended on getting today. “I got up a few hours ago, came in here, and well, you two were sound asleep. I saw your list, so I decided to go to the 24-hour grocery store a town over and do the shopping.” She shrugs as she wraps the blood pressure cuff around Lake’s little wrist.

  “Please tell me how much you spent, and I will get your money back to you,” I say as I slide to the end of the twin bed.

  “Don’t worry about it. So, which is it, buddy, fruit or warm bread?” She looks at my little boy with a raised brow after she removes the machine from his wrist.

  “Fruit!” he yells as he rushes towards the bathroom, slamming the door. I laugh as I stretch.

  “Thanks for doing the shopping. I’ll write you a check for whatever you spent.” I look over at the nurse whose face is turning shades of pink, remembering I have on grey sweats and no shirt.

  “I, huh…like your tattoo,” she sputters out, pulling her shirt down enough to show me her orange ribbon. Same side, same spot.

  After Kelly got Lake all hooked up in the chair, I fired up the laptop for him to do some schoolwork. I don’t have to work today, so I think if Lake’s feeling up to it, we can watch some movies and eat leftover soup. I gather up all of our dirty laundry and go down the basement wash them. I stop in the living room where Kelly is reading on her iPad to see if she needs anything washed as well.

  “I’m going to do a couple of loads of laundry; anything you want to throw in?” She says no, never looking up from whatever it is that she’s engulfed in. “What are you reading, medical stuff?” I ask as I set the basket of clothes down. Her cheeks turn that shade of pink they were this morning.

  “No. Just a book,” she replies, attempting to hide her embarrassment.

  “Well, that ‘just a book’ has your face a pretty shade of pink.” I laugh as I pick my basket back up.

  After getting the laundry squared away, Lake asked if we could watch the movie in his room because he wasn’t feeling well. Since it was his choice, we watched that wretched movie. Now my dreams will be filled with the words, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” But we pushed through and laughed when we were supposed to. Now we’re watching Gremlins. Lake asked Kelly to sit with him on his bed, and I am in the recliner. Occasionally, I look over at them both with their eyes drooping almost closed. My son is snuggled into Kelly’s side as she was softly rubbing his head. The last time I glanced over, though, they were both asleep. I could feel sleep claiming me as well, but to see my son relaxing with a smile on his face is truly a sight to behold.

  I wake up to the sounds of Kelly doing her thing. Looking over at my boy, he is looking a little peaked. “Son, how are you feeling?” I jump up out of the chair that has been serving as a bed for me.

  “He’s got a small fever, but nothing too major. It was kind of expected before now. We’ll keep an eye on it, and if it goes over a hundred, we will worry then.” She gives a smile that says I should believe her and leaves me with a feeling of relief. I walk out to the living room where I see that Mom has wrapped and packed all the presents under the tree. I go to grab me a mug full of liquid energy and see a note on the fridge.

  Creek,

  Cindy called, but you didn’t hear your phone, so she called me. She is still trying to rearrange her schedule to be here in time for the transplant. Soon as she gets the flight info, she’ll call again.

  MOM

  Kelly joins me. “Is Cindy his mom?” she asks as she sits down. I nod as I take the seat across from her. “Where is she?” I tell her about my life with the mother of my child. She has a look of pity, or maybe it’s sympathy. “Oh, wow. So, you’ve raised Lake on your own. Wasn’t she around when he was first diagnosed?” I answer her with a simple no.

  “I’m not mad at her for her choices. She gave me Lake. He was the greatest gift I have ever been given.” I smile at the nurse who is ready to weep buckets of tears.

  “Creek, you are a great man and a fabulous dad.” She grabs my hand, holding it in hers. Her hand feels like it was made just to fit into mine.

  Chapter 10.

  It’s been a crazy few days. The diner has been non-stop, I’ve worked some double shifts due to the rush of people. My nights after work have been spent watching movies and talking to Kelly. Lake’s fever stayed for a day then subsided, thank god. We need him to be healthy for his procedure.

  Today is the day Kelly will draw blood to see if the treatments are doing their job. I’ve been praying every night for my son to get what he needs, to be a healthy young man. Kelly has been fantastic with him. She helps him with his school work and reads to him at night. I’m glad she was chosen to do this trial run with us.

  I put my snow gear on to shovel the snow that fell last night. The sun is shining. It makes the outside so bright with the rays of sunlight beaming off the freshly fallen snow. I take time to look around and can’t believe I’ve missed all the messages for Lake that people are displaying in their yards and writing in fake snow on their windows. Some say, “God bless you, Lake.” Others, “You got this, Lake.” One message said, “Lake, you are in our prayers.” I walk up and down the middle of the street looking at the houses with tears freezing on my cheeks. Grabbing my phone, I take pictures of each message to show my son what community really means. I run into the house, not bothering to take my coat or boots off. As I pass the kitchen, I holler for Mom and Kelly to follow me. I pause the movie Lake is watching and tell the ladies to gather around the chair, so we can all see the love. I begin the slideshow, and the room fills with tears.

  *****

  We’ve been on edge waiting for the results of the blood test since the Lab Core vehicle left the driveway four hours ago. We’ve watched movies, played board games, and now, Lake is napping as we, the adults, sit in the living room in a deafening silence sipping coffee. I understand things like this take a while, but this is nerve-wracking.

  A loud ring from Kelly’s iPad makes every one of us jump. She grabs the thing and answers. “Are the Hollis’s with you?” I hear Dr. Courtney ask.

  “Yes, yes, they’re right here.” Mom and I stand behind Kelly, so the doctor can see us. “So, the results of the blood work show…” She just breaks off, and my heart stops beating. “That the conditioning is working!” She almost screams it as we all let out the breathes we had been holding. “Therefore, the procedure will be in three days’ time. Kelly, let's hold off on treatment tomorrow, but I’d like you to stay there to monitor Lake. Okay, everyone, see you on the 24th to get our young one admitted.” We all thank her and take in a refreshing sigh of relief.

  “We will do Christmas tomorrow morning,” Mom says. I nod.

  “Do you just do a Christmas celebration, or do you combine his birthday and Christmas?” Kelly asks as she sets her iPad down.

  “What we do is combine them. His gifts are all Christmas ones, but Mom makes him a birthday cake for after dinner. His mom focuses more on his birthday. She has balloons and gifts wrapped in birthday wrapping paper delivered.” She looks at me with a questioning look.

  “Delivered?” she asks.

  “Yes, Ms. Cindy has engagements that seem to be more important than making time to come see her only son,” Mom chimes in. I give her a disapproving look.

  “My mom isn’t very fond of Cindy as you may have noticed.” I chuckle as I say it.

  Kelly mentioned she wanted to go to a couple of the shops in town and do a little shopping, so I decided to join her. There was a watch I’d seen that I wanted to get for Mom and a few things I thought Lake would like. Mom was going to help the boy with some schoolwork since he probably wasn’t going to feel like doing anything for a little while.

  Kelly went her way to the boutiques, and I made my way to the jeweler and toy store. We met back at the Country Kitchen to grab a bite to eat about an hour or so later. I found us a booth near the back.

 

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