Vanessa
I awoke Christmas morning with the sense that Matt was no longer lying next to me. Feeling around for him on the makeshift bed we had set up, I was greeted with emptiness, his side of the linens still warm. The sound of water rushing through the pipes above me, indicating that he had gone for a shower. Snuggling into the sea of cream knit blankets, I eagerly waited for his return, but my eyes promptly shot open at a kitchen cabinet door shutting.
Clutching my coverings to my chest, I bolted upright. Crap! His Dad. I quickly shimmied my bare bottom into my jeans and pulled Matt's sweatshirt over my head, not even bothering to untuck my hair from the folds of the hood.
As I gathered my sneakers and made an attempt to tiptoe out the front door, being cautious to avoid the creaky floorboard, a voice from the other room called out to me. "Merry Christmas, Vanessa."
My hand still frozen on the doorknob and a crimson flush creeping up my neck, I squeaked out, "Uh...same to you, Mr. Jones."
"You can call me Tim," Matt's dad instructed as he stuck his head out the doorframe of the kitchen. "Come join me for a cup of coffee," he added, waving me over.
Gulping, I dragged my feet across the hardwood, preparing for a lecture about staying the night uninvited in his house and disobeying his rules. Reluctantly, I took a seat at the island. I fingered a smear of red icing left behind on the Formica from the previous evening as he placed a steaming mug in front of me. "I...I'm sorry," I piped up, my voice small.
Mr. Jones sat in the spot opposite me, blowing into a ceramic mug decorated with german shepards donning red Santa hats. He furrowed his brows. "For what, dear?"
So, he wasn't angry? I glanced around the kitchen at baking dishes and utensils neglected in the sink and the opened bag of forgotten flour on the counter. "For the mess," I lied, gesturing at the chaos.
He shrugged me off. "Don't even give it a second thought. I'm happy to see it look this way, actually. This kitchen hasn't had this sort of lively activity since..."
Dark clouds suddenly covered up the light that was just shining in his eyes and he glanced away. "Hailey died when Matt was seven years old. It took him awhile to grasp that she wasn't coming back. He used to stare out the window for hours and I knew that he was awaiting her return."
Shifting in my chair, I took a sip of coffee just to provide a distraction from the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon the room. I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr...um...Tim."
He sighed as he took off his glasses and rubbed at the lenses. "He blamed himself, you know. He thought that maybe he had done something wrong to make her go away or perhaps, that she just stopped loving him."
"Oh. That's awful." From above us, the sound of the water flowing through the house abruptly stopped.
He nodded. "Do you know how heartbreaking it is to lose your wife and then have your little boy, your only child, cry to you at night, begging you to bring his mother back and to tell her that he's sorry and won't be bad anymore if she returns?"
I shook my head, aching to comfort that little child. Matt had remained tight-lipped about the details surrounding his mother's passing and the pieces as to why were beginning to fall into place.
Tim gave me a wistful smile over the rim of his mug as he took another sip, the silly cartoon portraits of dogs providing a stark contrast to the somber expression he wore. "He used to be the most charismatic little boy but after her death, he completely shut down. He somehow got it into his head that anybody he loved would just end up leaving him, so he figured it was pointless to try and make friends."
He paused, taking in a shuddering breath. "He would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and trembling. He never admitted those nightmares were about his mom, but it was painfully obvious that they were." Tim wiped his brow. "Those were some of the hardest hours of my life. Managing my own grief was already at the brink of what I could handle but watching my boy go through it too and knowing there was nothing that I, his father, could do about it was absolutely heart-wrenching."
A lone tear slipped down his cheek at about the same time my heart shattered. "A parent is supposed to shield their child from something as horrific as that, but as I held his sweat-soaked tiny frame in my arms night after night, I felt completely powerless."
I reached over to pat his hand. "I can only imagine what that must have been like for you both."
Tim gave my fingers a squeeze. "There's a point to this, other than bringing a depressing atmosphere to Christmas morning." Leaning back, he drained his mug before setting it down on the counter with a clang of glass. "It had been countless years of this routine with Matt, only as he got older, he began shutting me out too and locking his bedroom door at night. But the message was clear, he wanted me to stay away."
"I was honestly at the end of my rope. How could I allow myself the space to heal when it was obvious that my son was still suffering? I prayed every night for an answer as to what to do when something amazing happened."
I propped my chin in my hands, my eyes fastened to Tim as I clung to his words as though they were a lifeline. But when he gave me a pointed look, it occurred to me that I was the lifeline. "I can't even begin to express my gratitude for you and Addison. For the first time..." Tim paused to dab at his wet cheeks. "I feel as though I have a good portion of my son back."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my own eyes misting over. "I...I...you're welcome. You have no idea how happy Matt makes me."
The warmth seeped back into Tim's face as he nodded his approval at me. "If only everyone else was as compassionate towards him as you two were. He tried desperately to keep the truth hidden from me, but I knew that he was picked on for how he handled her death. I'm ashamed to admit that I fueled the fire. You see, after the loss of Hailey's income, I struggled to make ends meet and well, let's just say that kids aren't always quite so accepting of second-hand clothing over designer brands."
"Then they don't know what they are missing out on," I sniffed.
He pushed away from the counter, striding over to the kitchen sink. As he washed his mug, he absentmindedly stared out the window. "He really adores you both. My son would barely utter more than a grumbled reply about his school day before isolating himself in his room. After you two came along, he began joining me for breakfast and even dared to crack a smile at my lame jokes."
He whirled around suddenly to face me. "You remind me of her. You have the same hair color and gentle nature. I can see why Matt loves you."
Dropping my gaze into my lap, I began fiddling with my fingers, my cheeks near scarlet. "I'm flattered by the comparison, Tim. Matt speaks very highly of his mother."
He gave me a smile that radiated throughout his features. "She was an amazing woman. And I strongly believe she would have been fond of you too."
Suddenly, his grin faltered as his gaze glistened. "I asked him what he wanted for Christmas this year and you know what that boy told me? 'I don't need anything, Dad. I already have the best gift in Vanessa. She makes me happy.' I haven't heard that word since..." He abruptly stopped speaking, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. Would you look at me? I'm a blubbering mess."
I could scarcely blame him. At this point, my eyes were far from dry as well.
Tim took another shaky breath, wagging his finger at me. "He loves you, Vanessa. Don't ever doubt that. And don't ever apologize for being here. You're always welcome in my home."
Before I could open my mouth to thank him, Matt came sauntering into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower. He instantly headed for the fridge, opening the door, and pulling out a carton of orange juice. As he chugged down the drink, his sights fell upon me and his father staring at him, and he spit out the beverage.
He gestured wildly at me; his cheeks pink as he stuttered his way through an apology for my still being there.
Matt's dad waved him off. "It's alright, son. Vanessa is very pleasant company. We were just chatting about you, actually."
Groaning, Matt dropped his head into his hands. "Please tell me that you didn't give away all my embarrassing childhood secrets?"
Tim winked at me. "Nah, only just the one about you sleeping with Mr. Floof Floof every night."
Matt's eyes grew wide, his cheeks flushing even redder. "Dad!"
Covering my mouth, I tried to stifle my chuckles. "You'll have to introduce me to him sometime," I said, tenderly stroking my boyfriend's arm and certain that if he knew what we had really discussed, the stuffed animal he had as a kid would hardly seem so revealing.
He grimaced and groaned again as his dad pulled him in for a tight hug. "So sensitive, this one. He gets it from his mother." Then flicking on the stovetop, Tim glanced over at me. "Vanessa, are you staying for a while? I could whip us up some pancakes if you'd like. Strawberry cream is my specialty."
Moving to my feet, I shrugged on the coat that I hadn't bothered with earlier in my haste to escape. "Thanks for the offer but my parents are probably expecting me."
He nodded. "Have a good holiday then and remember, stop by anytime you'd like."
Matt placed a hand on the small of my back as he guided me towards the front door, a puzzled expression on his face. Giving me a kiss on the cheek, he laced my fingers through his. "Well, that was unexpected. I thought for sure he would hit the roof."
I shrugged. "Your dad's a nice guy. You're lucky to have him."
He scratched his chin, his gaze shifting towards the kitchen. "Yea, I suppose my ol' man isn't half-bad. Just please tell me though that he only told you about Mr. Floof Floof and nothing else?"
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I closed the gap in between us. "That was all. Nothing more. Nothing less." Until Matt was fully ready to hand over the key to the secrets that he kept locked away and guarded, I would never reveal that his own father had just given me the spare.