It was 6:29 on Christmas morning, and Jo was awake.
He smiled and rolled over, the floor digging into his shoulder blade in the same spot it always did. Christmas Day was the one day a year when he didn't work at all. Relishing the thought of going back to sleep for once, he closed his eyes and began to drift off.
"Merry Christmas!"
Three little faces stared up at the table in wonder. Jo had managed to squirrel away enough for a small treat for their breakfast. At ages 5, 3, and 10 months, the boys were still young enough to consider the box of Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes a magical experience. At 15, Jo knew how pathetic his offering really was, but he appreciated their naïvety and enthusiasm all the same. There wasn't money for presents or any other special food, but Jo had gotten a stack of Christmas books from the library to read to them later as a surprise. He was trying his best to make Christmas as special as possible, but knew he was falling very short.
The two older boys grabbed their cakes and jumped up and down in circles squealing. For once Jo didn't quiet them. Dad was still out, likely drunk on a friend's couch, so they had the house to themselves.
"Can we make a snowman later?" asked Drew excitedly.
"Sure, when Jaime goes down for a nap.
"We build no-man, Jo Jo" babbled Sammy, clapping his hands.
After sitting the boys down with milk and cakes at the kitchen table, Jo fed the baby in their bedroom. He burped and rocked him and laid him down in the box he'd fashioned into a crib. When he returned to the kitchen, he froze in his tracks.
"Merry Christmas."
His dad sat at the table, only feet away from his brothers. They were still eating, but looked nervous around him. He picked up a cake, turned it over, and took a bite.
"Now that is...delicious."
He began to chuckle deeply. Nausea crept up Jo's throat and he was glad he hadn't eaten anything yet.
"I just want to know one thing. Where. Did a little piece of dog shit like you. Get the money for these."
Jo kept his mouth shut. He's managed to keep his job a secret from his dad so far, though his dad wasn't an idiot. He had to know the formula and diapers were coming from somewhere, since he hadn't dropped a dime for them.
"I believe I asked you a question, boy."
His dad's voice dropped an octave and Jo felt himself begin to tremble.
"Drew. Sammy. Come here."
He motioned cautiously to the little boys at the table.
"Stay where you are," his dad growled, making them jump.
"Come here. It's okay."
Drew grabbed Sammy's hand and tiptoed away from their father as one would from a coiled rattlesnake. Once they reached Jo he knelt down next to them, never taking an eye off his dad.
"It's nap time, okay? Go get into bed and shut the door behind you."
They looked at him, uncertain. Drew's lip trembled.
"Can you come with us?"
"I will in a little bit, buddy. Right now I need you to listen to me and do what I said."
He spoke gently, but there was urgency in his tone. When his dad stood from the table, he stood as well, pushing his brother toward their room.
"Go."
The door slammed behind them, leaving Jo alone with the snake.
He didn't have time to celebrate his small victory. His dad's fist collided with his face, knocking him to the floor.
"Get up," came the cold command.
Jo struggled to his hands and knees, but his father grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him the rest of the way to his feet. He didn't stay there long though. His dad threw him into the wall, then grabbed his shirt and threw him to the floor in the middle of the empty living room. Jo struggled to rise again when a steel-toed boot landed in his side.
"Stay down."
The boot connected again with his side, and then again. Jo coughed and sputtered as the boot kept coming in the exact same place. With the final kick, Jo felt something snap and his side exploded in pain. He laid on the floor, hoping it was over, but his dad grabbed his hair again, yanking him to his knees. He knelt there, wheezing and coughing, wanting to clutch his side, but knowing it would make things worse for him.
"Where'd you get the money, you little shit?"
Jo didn't know if he could physically answer at this point. There was a substance coming from his lungs that tasted suspiciously like blood and when he opened his mouth, it would bubble up and run down his chin. A fist landed across his face and he'd barely hit the floor when he was pulled back to his knees again.
"ANSWER ME YOU WORTHLESS WHORE!"
"I found it," he spit out, blood splattering on his dad's boots.
"Fucking. Liar."
He was yanked to feet again and hurled into the corner, only to be kicked yet again.
"Spreading your legs down on 6th, aren't you?"
The boot landed in a kidney.
"Got Vinnie locked up for pimping your ass-" *kick* "-but you liked it, didn't you?"
His dad's hands slid around his throat, squeezing.
"If you're such a little slut, then you can start earning your keep around here."
There were other words that followed but Jo didn't hear them. All he could see the red of his own blood as a flurry of fists and boots rained down on him. Soon, he felt nothing at all and then everything faded to blue and then black. But somewhere in the black, he could hear the baby crying.
Jaime.
"Jaime!"
He jerked awake, scrambling up from the floor, surprised that his chest didn't hurt too much. He checked himself for injuries and then noticed that the room was smaller. The cries, however, continued.
Johnny.
He shook off the remnants of the dream and collected his brother from the crib. 6:52. So much for sleeping in.
He shuddered slightly at the memory of Christmas eight years ago. It had taken him months to fully recover from that beating. He honestly wondered how he even lived through it. He'd coughed up blood for a week and his left eye remained swollen shut for twice that long. Every time he lifted Jaime had been a small agony.
He owed the boys a lot for that Christmas.
Since sleep escaped him, he decided to get an early start on breakfast. Every year, he tried to put something together for the boys to wake up to, no matter how broke they were. This year, with the help of Rachel's weekly cooking, he'd been able to save enough to get a tiny tree from the discount store. The eight dollars he'd spent on it seemed obscene, but he knew the boys would go nuts for it. They'd never had a tree before. It was fake, anyway, so they could reuse it next year.
Gifts were the same every year. He got each boy a book from the library give-away bin and an item of clothing they needed from the thrift store. This year, he'd found Drew boots that looked almost new, Sammy a pair of scuffed but in-style converse high tops, Jaime a winter coat, Mikey a lego shirt all his friends seemed to have, and Adam a pair of jeans that would actually fit his skinny waist. He was pleased with everything he'd found and he'd only spent $35 on the whole lot. With the tree and groceries for their breakfast and dinner, he'd spent a grand total $58 for the day. It was a small fortune for them but...well...it was Christmas.
With Johnny in arm, he began whipping up pancakes, their traditional Christmas breakfast. Rachel had left some extra chocolate chips from one of their baking experiments and he was incorporating them into the pancakes for an extra surprise.
He thought about Rachel as he opened the package. She had "accidentally" left quite a few extra ingredients in their kitchen and always refused to take them back when he reminded her. There was a small part of him that wanted to be proud and refuse her exuberant generosity. That part of him was quickly squashed by the look on his brothers' faces when they ate her creations. The things she brought were things he couldn't provide, and he couldn't deny them those experiences. Normal experiences.
The one thing he couldn't figure out was why she kept coming. Surly she had much better things to do with her Friday nights. No one had ever taken such an active interest in his family, and he preferred it that way. Too much interest usually meant trouble. But he sensed none from her. Only goodwill. And that was the puzzling bit. Worse, he felt himself relaxing around her and today, he even found himself missing her.
That didn't just puzzle him. It scared him.
He missed the way she floated around the apartment like a fairy and how she blew the stray tendrils of hair off her nose when her hands were occupied. He missed the way it felt to have another adult in the room. Having a woman around made their ramshackle apartment feel like a home. The boys talked about her constantly and several nights ago, Adam had whispered to Jo that he wished they had a mommy. He wondered if he was doing the boys a disservice by allowing them to become attached to a woman who wouldn't be around forever. He wondered if he was doing himself the same disservice.
He heard the bedroom doorknob twist and he tensed out of habit, relaxing when he heard the Jamie's shuffling footsteps on the wooden floor.
"Merry Christmas, Jaime," he said softly without turning around.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"You're always the first one up on Christmas."
Jo smiled at the child by his side and leant down to kiss the top of his head.
"Wow! We have a tree?"
"Don't announce it too loud. It's a surprise."
"We've never had a tree before! Did Rachel get it?"
Jo chuckled.
"No, kiddo, it was me."
Jaime beamed up at him and wrapped his arms around Jo's waist.
"Thanks Jo."
"You're welcome, kid."
Jaime grabbed the spatula and helped Jo mix the batter.
"Rachel's with her family today, isn't she."
"Yeah, she is."
"I miss her."
"Hmmm. I do too, kiddo."
"Are you gonna marry her."
Jo's hand stilled on the cupboard where he'd reached to grab a skillet. Resuming the task, he chose his words carefully.
"No, Jaime. Rachel's a really nice girl. She's really special. And she needs to marry someone who's just as special as she is."
He said the words with a calmness he didn't feel. If anything, the thought of Rachel married to someone, anyone, caused him unbidden pain and he mentally slapped himself for his audacity.
"You're really special too, Jo."
Jo chuckled again and ruffled Jaime's hair.
"Nah, kid, I'm not special at all. Definitely not in the same league as her."
"What's a league?"
"It just means that we're not equals. She's a lot smarter than me and a lot more successful. And she comes from a really good family. I didn't even finish high school. We just wouldn't be a good fit."
"But do you like her?"
"Jaime, it's not a matter of if I like her. It just wouldn't work."
"Oh."
He looked a bit dejected.
"But you can still be friends with her, okay?"
"Yeah..." he sighed. "But I really wanted a mom."
"You already have a mom, J."
Jamie gave him a side glare.
"She doesn't count."
Jo's lips turned up in a small smile.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
They other boys soon awoke, and the chocolate chip pancakes were a huge hit, as was the mini Christmas tree. Each boy gushed about his gift, which made Jo smile, knowing they couldn't have been that excited about used clothes.
After a romp in the snow and an afternoon filled with endless chapters of Lord of the Rings, they ate a humble, but tasty Christmas dinner of rotisserie chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. For dessert? Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes. He'd taken a gamble that the boys had been too young to remember the last time they'd eaten that particular treat.
One look at Drew's face told him how wrong he'd been.
Despite his golden complexion, the teen had gone pale. His hands shook and he didn't touch the cakes. Jo put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly. Drew gave a brave smile back, but still didn't touch the cakes.
The night ended with hot cocoa and the final 3 chapters of the Fellowship of the Ring. The boys were tucked in hours past their normal bedtime, and there more than a few mentions of Rachel and how much they missed her and speculations as to how she was spending her Christmas. Jo imagined her's was a bit grander than theirs, but he didn't say it out loud.
After the boys were in bed, Jo returned to the kitchen and began to work on the mess he'd left himself. Twenty minutes in, he heard the bedroom door open and Drew's distinctive steps coming toward him.
"What's up, little man?"
"Can't sleep."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Anything you wanna talk about?"
Drew shrugged and Jo waiting patiently, knowing exactly what this was about. What he didn't expect was for his 13-going-on-60-year-old brother to burst into tears.
"I can't stop thinking about it," he sobbed.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jo soothed, pulling Drew in tight to his chest.
The boy fit right under his chin, not having hit his growth spurt yet.
"Is this about the Christmas Trees?" he asked gently.
He felt Drew's head nod against his chest.
Jo sighed.
"I'm sorry, Drew. I thought you'd be too young to remember."
Drew only sobbed harder.
"Every time I sh-shut my eyes, I s-see you on the f-floor with-" he sobbed again, "bl-bl-blood coming out of your m-mouth."
He hiccuped and continued to shake.
"I though-ought you were dead-d."
Jo's heart broke in two at his brother's words. He remembered waking up the next day to find Drew curled up on his chest, sobbing brokenly, much as he was now. He held the boy as he had then, rubbing circles into his back. When the boy quieted, Jo pulled back a bit and took Drew's tearful face in his hands.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Drew. I'm so sorry. No kid should have to see that. You know it's not your fault, right?"
Drew nodded and hiccuped.
"But do you know it's not your fault?"
Jo couldn't hold his gaze, and chose instead to hold the boy again to his chest. They stayed there for a while, until Drew's head became heavy and Jo lead him back to bed like a child. He tucked him in tenderly, and as he turned to leave, he heard Drew's sleepy voice mutter from beneath the covers.
"Merry Christmas, Jo."
And to all a good night.