Chapter Fifteen
Cristina
"It's way too big."
"You weren't saying that before."
"I know, but I don't think I really realized just how big it actually is. Don't you think it's a little...wide? I don't think it's going to fit."
"Of course, it will. That space has handled this much before."
"It just seems so much bigger in the daylight."
"It's the same size that it was the last time you saw it."
"I just don't want it to get stuck."
"It won't get stuck, I promise."
"Mom, seriously. It's going to be fine. It's perfect."
I turned and looked at my son as he stood on the opposite side of the enormous Christmas tree from Josh. Snow was tumbling down around him and he was starting to look impatient. His hand was twitching on the handle of the axe that he held, and I knew that he was just itching to get hacking at the tree trunk. Josh and I had seen this tree several nights before as we drove along a small back road on our way back to my house. It was sitting in the starlight, no other trees around it to take away from its magnificence, and I knew that it was the one that belonged in my parlor. Now that I was looking at it again without the sparkly wonder of a winter night around it, I was noticing that it was huge and questioning if we would even be able to get it through the door, much less into the spot in the room that I had put aside for it.
"It just looks big now because it's the only one around," Josh said. "When we get it back to the house you'll see that it's going to look amazing."
I didn't really follow his logic, but both looked so excited that I knew I couldn't say no. I sighed and gave a hand wave of defeat. Matteo made a triumphant sound and turned to start cutting. I watched as Josh arranged himself so that his legs were out of the range of the axe and held onto the boughs to keep the tree steady as Matteo cut. I hadn't really intended on introducing the two of them so soon. I was fiercely protective of my son and hadn't ever introduced him to a man in my life. Not that the situation had really come up. The truth was the condoms in the drawer next to my bed were unopened because I had never had occasion to use them. I bought my first box of condoms as a show of defiance after my divorce, but then never opened them. When they got close to their expiration date, I replaced them, and then again.
Their continued presence in my nightstand was more out of tradition than anything. At least, until I met Josh. Our relationship was unexpected and intense, and though I found myself falling harder and deeper for him every time that I spent time with him, I had remained cautious about introducing him to Matteo. My sisters and mother were different. They were grown women and though they had chosen to continue to go along with the story that Josh and I were just working together, I knew that they were figuring out that there was more to it than that. No man just happens to get totally exhausted and need to crash as his employee's house every time that her son and others are out of the house. Life is simply not that convenient. Whatever they thought, though, they were adults and they could understand how relationships work -- even when those relationships were still being kept closely guarded because of the shaky work legality issues that would eventually need to be worked out.
Matteo, though, was different. He was still so young and had already been so hurt by the epic disaster that was my marriage to his father. I didn't know if he even remembered a time when our relationship was good. He was nearly a year old when we got married, and by the time that he was two we were already well on our way to divorce. It was a marriage that never should have happened, and the only good that had come out of it was the son who I adored. That didn't change, though, that he had been a constant witness to our arguments and the eventual collapse of our relationship. Now he was batted back and forth between us and I worried that he was suffering as a result of it.
Introducing a new man into his life was something that I had always planned on doing carefully. I wanted to give him a healthy view of relationships, but I also wanted to protect him. I didn't want him to build an attachment to someone and have it not work out. The plan had always been that I would introduce him to someone only after I knew that we were serious and had been together for six months or more. Of course, plans like that tend to get shot all to hell when you live with a mother whose hysteria about missing children is matched only by her obsession with women's network Christmas movies. The second that my son mentioned the fact that we still didn't have a Christmas tree, two weeks after Thanksgiving, Mama's eyes lit up and she suggested I call that "big strong beautiful man" I've been working with to help us find the perfect one.
No discreet conversation in another room to run it past me first.
No thoughts about whether that man would even be interested in getting a Christmas tree with us.
No cares about the fact that we had always had an artificial tree and it was sitting perfectly fine and ready in the garage just waiting to be unboxed, stuck together, and fluffed.
None of it. Just a sparkly-eyed suggestion and the distant look in her eye that told me she was already coming up with the title for our Christmas movie.
Of course, Matteo had immediately jumped on the idea and it snowballed from there. Now it was literally snowballing as I watched with my heart in my throat and snowflakes in my eyes while my barely teenaged son whacked at a tree trunk like he was channeling his inner Jack Torrance. I really didn't need to add a trip to the emergency room to my already busy holiday schedule, so I was incredibly relieved when Josh held up a hand to stop him.
"That should be enough. Good work. Now we just get out of the way and let her fall."
Why was it that everything men ever talked about was "her" or "she"? Not that I considered myself a rabid feminist or anything, but that was just strange.
I took a minute and thought about my stuffed animals and other toys when I was little and realized that with the exception of Barbie and very particularly lacy baby dolls, all of my toys were "he".
Well, good. Equality is alive and well. Twisted. Nonsensical. But alive and well.
I walked over to Josh and pulled Matteo behind us. Josh released the bough he was holding and gave the tree a push. It held its own for a few seconds and I worried that Matteo was going to go after it again, but then the trunk gave an ominous creak and started falling. It smashed to the ground with a glorious poof of fresh snow and I curled into Josh's arms to protect myself from any needles that might have become projectiles in the impact. He felt warm and strong and I took a moment to breathe in the smell of him, not wanting to give up the cozy cuddle. I knew I had to, though, and I reluctantly stepped away from him so that the two of them could pick up the tree by either end and start carrying it toward the small red hut we had seen as we were driving toward the tree and that we assumed was where we would pay the tree farmer.
As we approached the hut I noticed that we seemed to be walking toward the back rather than the front. We got closer and I saw that the bright lights we thought were just there to make the hut more welcoming were actually there to contain the rows and rows of precut Christmas trees that were propped on wooden frames. We all stilled, the same realization hitting us at the same time. Turning sharply, we scurried through the snow back toward the car.
And that, dear children, is the story of how we stole our first live Christmas tree.
Just as I had suspected, the tree was far too big for the room, but I was able to rearrange the furniture enough that we could shove it in. It stood far into the room and covered half of each of the two windows, but I told myself that that just meant that it was going to be even more impressive when seen from the outside at night. I stood with my back against the far wall so that I could watch as Matteo crawled around the base of the tree and Josh arranged the strand of lights across it in perfect swoops. I had been genuinely surprised to even find a strand of lights since we had always used a prelit tree. There it had been, though, curled up in the depths of one of the Christmas boxes; a single strand of multicolored lights.
My son emerged from under the tree with his hair in distinctly sticky spikes, but a smile on his face.
"Is it done?" he asked.
"I think so," Josh answered.
Matteo came and stood beside me while Josh went to the other side of the tree and found the plug. I wrapped my arm around my son's shoulders and immediately felt him wriggle away from me. My heart sank for a moment, but then I realized that he was scurrying toward the door and the light switch that controlled the electrical outlet. Josh clicked the lamp that we had moved across the room and sat on the floor to give enough light for the winding of the strand of bulbs. The room went dark and a second late Matteo threw the switch. The lights on the tree burst to life, creating a multicolored glow as though the tree had been covered with luminous sprinkles.
Even though the one tiny strand looked meager and the multicolored strand seemed a touch more suited for the back lot on the left, I couldn't help but gasp when I saw the tree light up. Josh stepped up beside me and wrapped his arm around me and Matteo came to my other side, leaning his head to rest it on my shoulder like he had when he was a little boy. I felt emotion catch in my throat.
"Should we put on some decorations?" Matteo asked a few moments later.
I nodded.
"I got all of the boxes from the garage. They're in the dining room. Go grab a couple."
He started out of the room and I felt Josh pull me in, turning me around so that he could gather me in his arms. I looked up at him and he ducked his head down to kiss me. I sighed into the kiss, feeling a shimmer of holiday spirit and sugary romance flow through me. We parted just before Matteo came back in the room and then Josh followed him out of the parlor to get the rest of the boxes. We were unpacking the boxes when I heard the crunch of wheels pull up in front of the house and I glanced through the window to see a familiar dark car sliding into place. I let out a sigh.
"Matteo, open the door. Detective Jeremy is here."
"Detective Jeremy?" Josh asked as Matteo put down the tray of blown glass balls that he was holding and started for the front door.
"Remember I told you that my mother has her own personal detective?"
"Yes."
"Detective Jeremy."
"Detective Jeremy!" My mother cried from the back of the house and then ran past the door to the front room. I held out my hand toward her for emphasis just as she backed up to look into the room at me. "Cristina. You're here."
"Yes, Mama. I've been here."
"But you weren't."
"No. I told you that we were going to the Christmas tree lot to get our tree."
I failed to mention that we were apparently intending on tree larceny.
"But you didn't tell me that you got home safely."
"Mama, you live with me. We're in the same house. I assumed that you would hear us stomping around in here and know that we had gotten back. Or, you know, check the driveway for the car."
"I heard you, but I thought that the three of you had been abducted and the kidnappers were coming here to finish off the family."
"And by that you mean…"
"Me!"
"Just checking."
"Hello, Valentina."
Detective Jeremy stepped through the front door and looked at my mother in the same way that he always did. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even frustration. It was more resignation, like he had accepted that my mother was a permanent fixture in his life now and he was going to just have to roll with it. There was also a hint of affection there, soft and hidden in the back of his eyes, never expressed, but definitely there. I figured that there had to be. No man would devote himself to being at the beck and call of a delusional woman if he didn't have at least some feelings for her. What those feelings were might be a little up for debate at this particular moment, however.
"Detective Jeremy," she said with a sigh, pressing her hand to the center of her chest. "Thank you so much for coming."
"Which one has gone missing now?" he asked.
"Me," I told him.
The silver-haired detective turned to look at me. I could still remember when his hair was just salt and pepper, and I was convinced that my mother was largely to blame for a large portion of the increased amount of salt.
"How long have you been home?"
"About two hours."
He looked back at my mother.
"Valentina," he said, his voice sounding like a father who was asking his toddler where the jar of cookies went. "You called me twenty minutes ago."
"I know," she said. "I heard someone up here and thought that it was intruders come to steal our holiday and skin me to use as a Santa suit."
That's a step the Grinch never took.
"We were just getting ready to put the ornaments on the tree," I said, hoping to gloss over the situation. "Would you like to stay and help us?"
He looked at each of us, then the enormous tree with its one little strand of lights, doing its best to light all of the boughs. Finally, he nodded.
"Sure," he said.
I smiled.
"Good. I'll get everyone some eggnog."