Gray Days

Chapter 11: Christmas With An Old Friend's Memory

"Shouldn't you ask Dad to fix that?" I ask him, sitting next to Grandpa on the side bench.

Glancing at me, he continues on working. "I did. He won't help."

"Of course he won't. You almost broke your leg, remember?"

"That was one time. I'm careful now," he says but I'm still doubtful that Dad will ever help him. When Dad says one thing, it rarely changes.

With Grandpa, I watch Jesse and at times, I try to talk to him. Grandpa talks in a mechanical voice, seeming like he's reading from a script. He isn't like this before. I recall a retired police officer who lets his grandchildren sit on his lap as he tells them a story. Giving them a smile every time they look at him. Now all I see is a retired police officer who's still heartbroken years after his wife passed away. But when I look at him and he catches my gaze, he still smiles and I think he's not as heartbroken as I thought. There's still some colors left in him.

With a sigh and in a less mechanical tone, Grandpa says, "I miss your grandmother, Zoey."

"We all do, Grandpa. But Grandma's okay now, and we're going to be okay too, aren't we?" A little smile creeps on his smoke-cracked lips as he nods, and wanting to make it all better, an idea pieces itself inside my head and I say, "I have something to show you."

Running to my room, I take my childhood memory box and from there, I pull out a photo album I got from my grandparents' house. Most of the pictures in here were taken when I was only a baby so I don't recall most of it, although there are some photos when I was a toddler that I vaguely remember.

Grandpa was a help though. I point out a picture and he tells me the story behind it. The picture we're working on now is a photograph of Mom, a two-year-old Jesse, and Dad carrying me inside a bare house with a lot of boxes surrounding us. Grandpa tells me we've just moved in the time this picture was taken and that it was Grandma who took it. When I ask him where he was, he says he was getting the rest of the boxes from the truck.

Leaving his motorbike, Jesse joins us and shares what he remembers of those days. When lunch is ready, Mom comes outside and finding us in a crowd, she takes a peek and soon, she's already reminiscing with us. Dad joins us half an hour later. After finding a full table and an empty kitchen, he comes out as we are laughing about a time when Jesse accidentally but pleasingly (for himself) peed directly on Dad's face while he changed his diaper.

We eventually eat lunch later on and for dinner, we help Mom prepare the table. Mom makes Grandma's pumpkin pie and we all gobble it up and Grandpa revels in how it taste exactly like Grandma's.

Afterwards, we gather in the living room and to my surprise, none of the boxes are empty. But there are boxes that has layers of boxes inside them, mostly Jesse's presents. Dad gives Mom a new set of kitchen utensils and a pair of earrings, while Mom gives Dad a typical wallet and a set of tools essential for his work. From Jesse, I get a new pair of headphones and a handful of notebooks and a tiny Ted keychain. To Grandpa, Mom and Dad gift him a newly-framed and colored photograph of his and Grandma's wedding.

From the handful of photo albums Mom and Dad stored, Grandpa asks of them and just like what we did earlier, we go over every picture and share what we remember of it. There is a picture of me and my new bike and I tell them the hardships of learning how to ride up to the scar on my jaw. When there was a picture of Ted in the background, Mom tells how he used to be in my bed and in turn, I tell them he'll be sleeping with me tonight and all the nights after tonight. Mom smiles and Dad smiles and I do too.

In the last album, all the photos in there are all about Grandma and Grandpa and it's his delight to tell us the story behind every one of them. He is smiling as he goes over picture by picture. Mom is smiling. Dad is smiling. Jesse is smiling. And as I look at them, I am smiling. The good, bad, happy, sad, what's worth the laughter, what's worth the tears. Grandma's gone but as we look over her pictures, the room is filled with talk and laughter and memories. It's like she is never gone. She lives on through the memories she has carried and left behind. And although reminiscing memories are sad, it's what we make of them that makes us smile.

When we retire and we're all in our rooms, I can still hear the talk and the laughter and the memories.

Somehow, those things remind me of Rut. I walk and peek through the window in hopes that I will see him through but his room is dark, not only that but the whole house is. Until some seconds later when a cab stops in front of the house. It's dark but I can see his mom coming out. She lights up the house and minutes later, David parks in their driveway. Rut's room never lights up until his mom shows up and covers up the window. I don't know if he's in there or not, but at exactly twelve a.m., I receive a text from him.

Rut: MERRY XMAS! 🤶🎄 -R

And as all greetings I received from him, everyone in his contacts received them too.

The next morning, I walk downstairs and find Betty (Rut's mom) and David in our living room, having an early cup with Mom. Jesse and Grandpa are eating breakfast in the kitchen but as I wish to join them, Mom calls me and tells me to come.

The first thing Mom says as soon as I arrive is: "Do you know where Tony is? Betty said he didn't come home last night."

"I don't know, Mom, but he said he has to go somewhere yesterday."

It's Betty who talks, "We tried calling him but he won't pick up. When we got home, the fridge is full. But he wasn't there nor was there any leftovers."

"Right," says Mom, "We ran into him when we went for groceries last Monday. I thought you were with him."

At Mom's words, Betty shakes her head. David sits silently beside her while he drinks his coffee, but soon he stands and walks to the window.

Mom and Betty is talking and I don't know if I should say this, but I cut them off anyway. "I asked him if he was with you, when we're getting groceries, but he wasn't even sure if you guys will come home or not. He bet you wouldn't be home for Christmas Eve."

By the window, David says, "It's him who wasn't home last night. I told you he'll come home if he wants to, Bethany. He's here."

Running to the window, Betty gasps and quickly says thank you to Mom as she walks out of the house to Rut, who's just gotten down from his bike. David follows his wife outside, and while Betty hugs and nags Rut, David says one thing and walks straight inside.

Later in the afternoon, after Mom and I drive Grandpa home, I catch Rut helping Jesse fix his motorbike in our backyard. I watch them by the bench, and as soon as I'm seated, Rut looks up and grins, waving. It takes them about twenty minutes to finish, but at the end of the twenty, Rut tells Jesse that he needs Dad to fix it.

"Shouldn't you be hanging out with your parents while they're still at home?" I ask Rut as he walks to me.

Sitting beside me, he wipes his hands with a rag and says, "We had lunch together. That's more than enough. Mom has to go back to New York. A new case called David back to the office. You just can't keep their asses still for a fucking day. Believe me, I tried. You just can't." I fall silent, and when Rut turns to me, he laughs. "Sorry looks ugly on you, Zoey. Why don't you turn up a smile on there, huh? Maybe a little giggle? A tiny haha? Anything?"

When I look at him absently, he jolts up. "Wait here." Then he runs back to their house. A minute later, he appears again, both hands hidden on his back. "I got you something. It's Christmas, the spirit of giving. Ready?"

I haven't replied to him, but he already holds up a golden Labrador puppy in his hands. Speechless, I shuffle my gaze from Rut and to the dog. Rut grins widely as he hands me the pup. I've never had a dog since Corby and I can't stop myself from smiling as I pet the little thing.

"Do you like him?" Rut asks eagerly. I smile at him and nod. "Good. You have twenty-four hours."

"What?"

This time, he laughs. "That's Rigel's dog. He asked me to dogsit for a day."

"And here I am, thinking it's a gift."

"It is. For twenty-four hours."

It was good while it lasted, which was only about a minute. Sighing, I shake my head in disappointment at Rut as he stands, looking pleased with himself. With the dog, however, I smile as I smooth his coat and play with him.

Rut and I play with Rion until the afternoon darkens. And the next morning, we play with him a little more before Rigel comes and takes him at noon. And above all the gifts I received, a limited time with a puppy is, by far, the best.