Trailer Trash(68)

The belief that Santa could perform miracles.

He didn’t want to open his eyes when he awoke the next morning.

The house was silent. He sat on the edge of his bed for several long minutes, steeling himself for what he knew he’d find. It took only a glance out the window to see that his mom’s rusty Duster hadn’t appeared. There was no tree in the living room, no stocking stuffed with candy, no presents to unwrap at all. There was no Santa, and no magic, and no reason to even get out of bed.

Not until later, at least, when Nate would show up.

He spent the morning looking through the bills again. It had become his primary pastime when Nate wasn’t around to see. He’d taken care of the most urgent ones, but more were due each day, and the late fees on a few were as much as the original bill. He counted the hours he’d worked since his last payday and tried to figure out exactly how much would be deducted before he even saw the check.

He wouldn’t have enough to cover them all. That much was clear. He’d have to prioritize, pay what he could, knowing the others would have past-due notices by January. Was this why his mother had left? Because she’d finally gotten tired of staring at that pile of paper on the counter, knowing she’d never be able to make ends meet?

He showered and dressed, not wanting to be in sweats when Nate showed up, then made himself breakfast. He’d used the last of his money two days earlier to buy bread, peanut butter, a box of off-brand cereal, and a half gallon of milk. He hadn’t wanted Nate to know, so he’d gone to the gas station after Nate was gone. He knew it was stupid—the food there cost more than it did at the grocery store—but the grocery store was two miles away, and the gas station offered a certain amount of comfort. Vera hadn’t said anything when he put the food on the counter, but when he’d come up seventy-two cents short, she’d frowned. Cody had eyed the groceries, trying to decide which thing to put back, but she’d taken his money and started putting the food in a bag before he could choose.

“But, I don’t have enough—”

“I’m sure I got that much in my purse, and if don’t, then it won’t matter none if the drawer’s a few cents short. Sometimes my countin’ ain’t so good anyway. What’ll they do? Fire me?”

He swallowed, torn between embarrassment and gratitude. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I think you got enough troubles of your own, kid. Don’t worry none about mine.”

He hadn’t argued, and he said a silent thank-you to her again as he ate a bowl of cereal on Christmas morning. He stashed the bills out of sight, turned on the TV, spent a good fifteen minutes adjusting the antenna to get the picture as clear as it could be without cable, and waited for Nate to arrive.

He came shortly after noon, as promised. He was smiling ear to ear, his cheeks red from the cold, a big basket wrapped in plastic tucked under his arm.

“It’s snowing!” he said as Cody let him in. “Everything’s white and clean, and it sparkles in the sunlight. It’s amazing. It’s just like Christmas in a movie.”

Cody forced a smile, thinking how his dank, dusty living room was about as unpicturesque as could be. “Not like Texas, huh?”

“Not even close. Here.” Nate shoved a giant gift basket into Cody’s hands. “Hang on. There’s more.”

He disappeared back outside, and Cody stood, staring at the gift. It was crammed full of oranges and grapefruit, half a dozen tiny bricks of cheese, and a summer sausage, with little bags of candy and nuts stuffed in between. He set the gift on the kitchen counter, his hands shaking. He heard Nate come back inside, but he didn’t turn to face him.

“I can’t take this.”

“Sure you can. It’s from the station. All the cops got one. My dad said I could have it.”

That made him feel better. It would certainly be nice to have something other than peanut butter to eat, and at least Nate hadn’t spent any money on it. “Oh. Okay.”

But then he turned to find Nate holding four more boxes, each one wrapped in bright-colored paper with smiling Santas and dancing reindeer. Nate shoved the stack into Cody’s hands and turned to shed his coat.

Cody’s heart sank. He felt like an idiot. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Nate might buy him a gift, and now here he was with a stack of them, and Cody had nothing at all to give in return. He put the boxes on the counter, next to the shrink-wrapped food that rightfully belonged to Nate’s dad.

“Nate.” He hated the way his voice shook. He hated the way his throat burned. He almost hated Nate for putting him in such a stupid position. “You shouldn’t have bought me anything.”