For Us

50. Night light.

{Jon}

With effort, Jon moved his worry about Kurt into another room and closed the door as he stepped into River House for his shift. He noted the dishes were only half done and Dusty's reading light was on under his door. In the office, Angel gave him a tight smile. "Boss, thank God you're back. All the drama from the weekend is in the notes."

That got Jon's full attention. "Quick summary?" he asked.

She pulled her tuque over her feathery hair. "One of the weekend staff, Sharon, kicked up a fit about using Jordin's pronoun. Naomi had words with her but you'll see she used the log for a lonnnnng note of complaint. She says she doesn't want to work in an environment that demands she violate her personal beliefs."

Jon just caught himself from making a face. Welcome to my world, Sharon.

Angel rolled her eyes. "Wish I could say she's the only one, but she's the loudest. I'm so glad Jordin wasn't here this weekend."

Jon dropped his eyes to the log book, tapping his fingers on the desktop, thinking. If staff were threatening to quit, his boss probably needed to know about that. "Thanks Angel. I'll get on that." He rolled out his neck, sighing softly. Time for another carefully worded email.

"You got this, boss." She gave him a smile. "Dusty's waiting up for you."

Jon's face lifted in a genuine smile. Day already better.

Dusty sat up bolt upright in bed when Jon tapped on his door and came in. His eyes sparkled in the light of his reading lamp. "Pops!" He held out his arms, opening and closing his hands, and Jon knelt to hug him, taking comfort in the feel of his skinny body cuddling against him.

"Guess what?" Dusty asked, rushing on without waiting for an answer. "My mom's coming home for Christmas forever. She says we're going to be a family again!"

Jon made a smile back at the boy, but his heart sank. Promises had been made before and broken. "When did she tell you this?"

"She came for Kokum's goose dinner and she said she's going to a treatment and we should write her letters. Jordin says he--she," he corrected himself swiftly, "Isn't good at writing but I made a card already with glitter and Mom stuck it in her bag to take. My mom is coming home for Christmas Jon and I'm going to be her Christmas present!"

Jon stroked his hand over the boy's hair. Someone had brushed it out this weekend, pulling it into two braids. Bright red yarn was knotted around the end of one, but had slipped off the end of the other. He chose his words carefully. "That sounds really awesome, Dusty." He was going to have to reach their social worker, and the Kickingbird's grandmother on the reserve to confirm how much of this story was really true. Unfortunately, Dusty's hopes were already sky-high. "I'm so glad she could be with you for Thanksgiving."

Dusty wiggled back under the blankets. "I showed her how to make the tent and she made it for me every night." He closed his eyes, his hands clasped on his chest and a blissful expression on his face. "Can you pray for my mom to be good at treatment, Pops? And then we can all be together."

Jon rubbed his hands over his face, steadying himself to carry the weight of one more person. "Yeah, of course I can," he said. He took a breath to pray. "Creator, thank you for today." Jon called to mind the parts of the day that had been good, that he could actually say thank you for. "For sun in the sky and a safe home and people we love, and tasty goose dinner for Dusty and Jordin. Please be with Dusty's mom and help her to put the pieces together and heal so she can be with her family at Christmas."

He thought of his own boyfriend, labouring to leave the past behind and remake his life as a sober, thriving person. "Give her good people around her at treatment and help her to remember how much her boys love her and how much You love her. Bless her and Jordin and Dusty and Kokum—"