She thought about all those little moments she’d had with her own dad: The back-yard barbeques when he made smiley faces with ketchup on her burgers and sneaked her soda when her mother wasn’t looking. The Saturday mornings when she’d jumped onto his back while he lay in bed sleeping, and he’d spin around from a sound sleep and become the Sleeping Bed Monster, tossing her into the air. The quiet days when he read the newspaper next to her while she read her favorite Nancy Drew book. None of those were life-shattering events, but collectively, they painted a picture of love that she couldn’t have had otherwise.
This problem was too big for her to solve, and while she wanted to fix it, she knew she was meddling in someone else’s life, and that wasn’t her place. It went against everything she felt in her heart, but she decided she wouldn’t try and orchestrate another meeting like that because all it did was paint him in a worse light, and she didn’t want any more unfavorable memories for the children.
Carrie and the children had decorated the tree today. It had taken all her strength to get it inside, but she’d insisted to Adam that she could manage, knowing he was already in a huff about work and was wearing his work clothes. It was clear that he didn’t like the idea of leaving her to get the tree, but obviously in a rush, he complied, telling her to leave it on the porch if it was too heavy and he’d get it tonight. She’d smiled, the lump in her throat still there but hidden. It had taken three refusals, but he finally relented and went back to work. She’d wobbled the tree into the house, the children attempting to help her, David claiming to hold the most weight, and they’d worked together to get it into the base. Olivia filled it with water after Carrie finally secured it.
David had been in charge of the lights, and he’d dutifully bunched them all down at the bottom. She’d stretched them up to the top of the tree, saying that she wanted to give him enough space to put more lights, and when they were finished, the tree sparkled, the white lights glistening off the window panes. Olivia put on all the ornaments, opting for the ones with the most glitter first. With the angel on top and the deep cranberry-colored tree skirt at the bottom, it sent a glow around the room. Carrie finally felt like it was Christmas. She hoped that the kids felt it too.
And now, she waited—with white lights glistening up the greenery on the banister at the front door, the candles in the windows, snow collecting again on the ground outside, the glow of the tree, and the peppermint scent in the air from the candle she’d bought—she waited with no one to enjoy it but her. It was nearly nine o’clock at night, and Adam wasn’t home. He was probably still having drinks with Andy, discussing things Carrie couldn’t ever talk about with him because she worked with children and not in the corporate world. The house seemed so big when she was alone. She wondered why Adam had such a large house in the first place. He had very nice things, but he didn’t seem the type to be showy with his money, and he was never there. Not even late at night. She looked back toward the garage door. Silence.
Her supper plate sat empty in front of her, the food long gone. She’d had supper by herself, and she couldn’t help but think how that had been her fault for asking him to get the tree. She’d pushed all his work back, and now he was working instead of being home in the warm atmosphere that she’d created. Again, while she felt guilty, he’d made her feel like what she was doing and who she was as a person was trivial to him. If he couldn’t even understand her, how could anyone else? No one understood what it was like to have a life that was work twenty-four hours a day. None of her friends understood. Adam should understand, but, clearly, caring for children didn’t hold the importance to him that his job did. As annoyed as she was with him, she’d liked it when he came home the last two days—those evenings were the one time she had when she could be with another adult. His quiet and controlled nature calmed her. She felt sad—the what-am-I-doing-with-my-life kind of sad. Her life was a mess, and she knew it.
With a deep breath, Carrie pushed away from the table, cleared her dishes, and cleaned up the kitchen. Before going upstairs, she dished Adam some food, put it in the refrigerator, and left him a note with directions for heating it up, just in case he hadn’t eaten with Andy. Then, she grabbed her book and went to bed.
Carrie peered out the front window at the enormous camper pulling in. The snow had melted considerably, revealing the black of the street and the aggregate driveway. It was definitely a different scene now than the one she’d encountered five days ago when she’d arrived, but another storm was headed for them by the end of the day and, most likely, it would all be covered in snow and ice again by the morning.