Bob howled, only letting up when he realized I had not, in fact, killed him. “You’re crazy!”
“OK, now I feel better.”
“You can’t really do that when we already have him in custody,” Jane said.
“Well, then, charge me with abuse of a contract killer.”
15
Parenting is a lot of work, but whether you’re living or dead or somewhere in between, there are plenty of moments that make all that effort worthwhile.
—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting
I was using my vampire speed to whipstitch my son’s best friend into a sumo costume—which seemed like a misappropriation of vampire superpowers.
“Mom, hurry up, we’re next!” Danny hissed, smoothing his fingers over his upper lip to make sure his adhesive matador’s mustache was still in place.
Honestly, this was the strangest school Christmas play I’d ever seen.
Well, technically, it was a winter holiday play, because we weren’t allowed to call it a Christmas play. Even in Half-Moon Hollow, the schools had to give at least the appearance of separation of church and state.
The theme of the first grade’s presentation was “Peace on Earth,” and all of the kids were dressed like people from other world cultures. Well, stereotypes of people from other world cultures. Harley was a sumo wrestler. Danny was a matador. Other cast members included a chubby Italian chef, a mime, and, for some reason, a mummy. I found that offensive on behalf of living Egyptian people, but I also knew that Parker McHune’s mother couldn’t sew, so wrapping her son in Ace bandages was the best she could do.
I glanced around the painted globe backdrop and spotted Marge. She was smiling to beat the band, anxiously shifting in her seat, trying to get a glimpse of Danny backstage. He wanted his costume to be a surprise for his mamaw, and she could hardly wait to see her tiny bullfighter.
Danny and Marge had been spending more time together after school and had regular sleepovers with all the popcorn and extra-smelly treats he could reasonably consume. I couldn’t say there was no tension in our relationship now, but Marge was much more respectful of boundaries. When I said no to something, she actually agreed instead of trying to renegotiate. When I asked her to have Danny back home at a certain time, she brought him back at that time. She was his grandmother again, instead of a surrogate mother, and I’d like to think we were both more comfortable with it. I had hope for us both.
In other grandparental news, Max was sitting in the back row, next to Finn, recording the play on a very expensive-looking video camera. I could make out his huge, blinding-white smile even in the darkened auditorium. I was less open to letting Danny spend time with my father unaccompanied, but since Max seemed intent on quality time with both of us, that bothered him not at all. We’d had family movie nights and family park outings, which I would admit were a little strange after dark. But Danny loved having the swings all to himself, and it was . . . nice spending time with Max. He filled in holes in my history I didn’t even know existed, telling me stories about my mother, how they met, their courtship. While I didn’t quite trust him, I wanted to, and that was progress.
Wade was sitting in the front row, dutifully holding up his cell phone in preparation for Harley to walk out onstage and sing his line from “We Are the World.” He caught my eye and winked. I smiled, shaking my head. I finished stitching the torn sleeve of Harley’s fat suit and ran the thread across my extended fang, severing it.
“OK, sweetie,” I said, straightening the fake topknot on Harley’s head. “Go knock ’em dead.” I kissed his forehead. He tolerated the kiss in a manly fashion and had the good grace not to wipe it off in front of me.
“Me, too,” Danny muttered quietly as Harley waddled out onto the stage. I chuckled and kissed his forehead.
“Go out there and belt out some ridiculously outdated nostalgic tripe.”
Danny screwed up his face in confusion. “What?”
“Never mind.”
“Emma’s mom isn’t this weird,” he grumbled.
I clucked my tongue, adjusting Danny’s matador cape. “Well, sweetheart, your mom’s always going to be just a little bit weird compared with the other kids’ moms.”
“Eh, that’s OK,” Danny said. “You’re pretty cool.”
“I love you more than anything,” I told him.
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I pushed the matador hat over his ears. “You ready for your big moment?”
“Yep.”
I watched Danny walk out onstage, sweeping his cape as he sang, “We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving!” He stood next to Harley, wrapping his arm around his friend’s heavily padded shoulders. He was so happy. Happy and safe and secure.