Authors: Patricia Morrison
“Stupid rules. But we gotta play along, or they’ll come down on me worse. Everything’ll work out. You’ll see.”
Jules wanted to know exactly how things would work out, exactly what would be happening and when. But she knew from experience that her dad wasn’t going to explain. He never talked to her about anything important – and maybe he didn’t understand what was going on, either.
“Look, we’re going to be together on Christmas Day. That’s all that counts.”
Jules started crying again.
“Hey, kiddo. Don’t do that. We’ll have a good time together Christmas morning. Just you wait and see.”
I want to believe it
.
“Okay, Dad,” she whispered.
“So I’ll see you at eleven-thirty. The day after tomorrow. Christmas Day! Won’t that be great?”
“Yes.”
“And you be a good kid. Don’t get all moody like
you do. And mind what they tell you. I don’t want to hear about any problems.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“All right, hon. I gotta go. We’ll be back together soon. You’ll see. Bye.”
“Bye, Dad.” Jules stood there after he hung up, staring at the phone handset.
Mrs. Chapman came into the kitchen.
She’s been listening
.
Mrs. Chapman looked at Jules for a moment before speaking. “I’d like you to take a bath and get ready for bed now.”
Maybe Mrs. Chapman figured out that foster kids get upset after phone calls from their parents and just want to be alone. If that was true, Jules was grateful.
She cried hard in the bathtub while the water was running and did silent crying while she washed.
He said sorry. Maybe he isn’t going to blame me. It was so good to hear his voice. I wish he wasn’t staying with someone else. I hope Tracie doesn’t like to drink as much as he does
.
Jules woke up early feeling unsettled, her stomach in knots. It was Christmas Eve.
After breakfast, Mrs. Chapman asked her to help with some last-minute baking. The girls had gone out. Jules didn’t have a clue how to bake anything and goofed everything up. When she dropped the shortbread dough on the floor, Mrs. Chapman ordered her into the living room to watch TV.
The Chapmans had invited some of their friends over for the evening. Instead of a sit-down dinner, Mrs. Chapman served all kinds of snack food and baked goods. Both Veronica and Marilyn had invited friends over, too.
More strangers
.
“Can I go up upstairs?” Jules asked when people started arriving.
Mrs. Chapman gave her a surprised look. “On Christmas Eve? Heavens no!”
Jules scrunched herself into the corner of the sofa nearest the hallway. Every time someone new arrived, she could hear Mrs. Chapman mumbling something about her. When she introduced Jules officially in her jangling voice, she just said, “This is Jules!”
Veronica and Marilyn ignored her completely. Their friends kept looking at her as if she were going to fly around the room or sprout fangs.
They’d ask about my stupid life if they had the chance
.
Jules got away from everybody as soon as she could, saying she was sleepy. She sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
If I put one end of the bedspread over the headboard and bring the other end to the foot of the bed, maybe I can make a half-fort
.
When she tried, it worked well, but her mind kept going back to her dad. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dream her way out of that night.
She got up, knelt by the window, and looked outside. On the Chapmans’ street, many of the houses
were decorated for the holiday. Many of the outside Christmas lights still twinkled in the darkness.
Tonight everything feels strange, unfamiliar. Without end
.
O
pening their gifts, Veronica and Marilyn were as excited as little kids. Their mom and dad and grandparents had given them piles of presents.
Jules got some, too. A book – a Nancy Drew mystery – and some chocolate.
“But I have nothing to give you.”
“That’s okay,” everyone said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Time to get ready or we’ll be late for nine o’clock Mass,” Mrs. Chapman announced. “Jules’s father is coming around eleven-thirty.”
The girls were in their own world, comparing gifts, trying on clothes, and complaining about having to fast before Mass.
Jules despised the fact that she had to go to Our Lady of Peace church with them.
Everybody in the parish is going to find out I’m with
the Chapmans and start asking questions
.
Luckily, they arrived late and had to sit at the back. Jules kept as far away as possible from the Chapmans in the pew. After Mass, Mrs. Chapman chatted and gossiped for a long time on the church steps – while Jules hid behind Mr. Chapman.
“Why don’t you come help me with breakfast, Jules?” Mrs. Chapman asked when they finally got back.
After the baking disaster, Jules could tell that Mrs. Chapman didn’t want her in the kitchen, but she didn’t know what to do with her, either.
I’m a wind-up toy. Turn the key. Point me here. Point me there
.
When breakfast was over, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman stayed in the kitchen drinking coffee. The girls went up to their room.
Eleven-thirty came.
Eleven-forty.
Eleven-forty-five.
He’s late! Christmas morning and he’s late. After everything that’s happened!
The doorbell rang at ten to twelve.
Her father looked tired. His large eyes were bloodshot, and his face was pale. But he’d shaved and put on his church clothes. He carried a brown paper shopping bag filled with presents.
Jules ran to him and held him, burying her head in his jacket. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” Her voice kept rising each time she said the word.
“Hey, hey, settle down, Jules!” Mr. Chapman said in an enough-of-that voice. “It’s Christmas morning, for heaven’s sake. No need for hysterics.”
“That’s right, Jules. It’s okay, honey,” her dad said. “It’s okay.” He looked up at Mr. Chapman with an embarrassed smile, extending his hand. “Hi. I’m Joe Doherty.”
“Bill Chapman.”
They exchanged Christmas greetings, but Jules was deaf to them. Her arms were still wrapped around her father.
I’m not letting go
.
Mr. Chapman invited him into the living room. Mrs. Chapman came in from the kitchen, introduced herself, and asked if Jules’s father wanted coffee or tea.
“Coffee’d be great.”
“Okay, I’ll just get it ready. And then we’ll let you two have your visit.”
Mr. Chapman disappeared. Jules and her dad were alone in the living room.
“Please don’t be upset. I’m sorry for what happened. I know it’s awful, but everything’s going to be all right.”
Jules couldn’t speak.
“We gotta get over this. It’s really a big mistake. You know that, honey.”
She nodded into his chest.
“Well, look at this living room, would ya?” His voice sounded strange. “Look at all the Christmas decorations. You must be in heaven.”
Keep holding me, Dad. Don’t let go
.
“Are you okay? How are they treating you?” he whispered as he looked into her eyes.
How can I begin to answer?
“It’s okay, Dad. But I want to come home. Please let me. I can’t stand being here.”
“I know, sweetie, I know. I want you to come home, too. But there’s things that have to be worked out first.”
“You mean about being here?”
“Yeah. It’s stupid, but once you’re in a foster home, there’s things you have to do to get back together. Didn’t Eileen explain?”
“She tried, but I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay. This is going to blow over. It’s nothing. Things are going to be good – better – when we’re back together.”
“I can’t be here, Dad. Please, I want to come home,” she sobbed.
“As soon as I can straighten things out.” He was starting to sound frustrated. “I don’t get it. I mean, an eleven-year-old’s not a little kid. And you had a place to live.”
“I don’t understand, either, Dad. I don’t know what they’re doing to me.”
Words and cries mixed together. Jules always tried to crush her emotions around her father, but she couldn’t today.
“Hey, that’s enough.”
It took only one look from him. Jules knew she’d have to stop crying.
“We’re not gonna get through this, honey, if we go crazy. God, I feel like a little kid myself, having to report to those damn social workers, looking for a job and a new place. But today’s Christmas, and it’s time to have our own little celebration. So let’s stop worrying, eh?”
“Don’t you work at Thompson’s anymore?”
“That foreman,” he said in an irritable whisper. “Such a big shot, big mouth. Always breathing down my neck. Couldn’t cut me some slack when I took time off. I’ll get another job. Easy. I always do.”
He was a good mechanic. But that wasn’t the problem. He was finding it harder and harder to keep a job once he got one.
“It wasn’t a good place to work. And I’m clearing out of our house,” he said, looking almost happy. “Getting rid of the extras we dragged around with us – ’cause there’s no room at Tracie’s. Can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s been great.”
He’d had girlfriends on and off. That wasn’t unusual. Most of them liked to drink, though. And if they hung around the house too much, they got on his nerves. Those times could be scarier than the drinking parties.
“Things’ll be easier now that Tracie’s around.”
Jules didn’t know what to say. Moving meant she might have to go to another school. She’d lose her friends. “Do we have to move again?”
“I told you about the landlord already. Besides, I can save money by being at Tracie’s, and that’s a big help. Especially now.”
“Couldn’t I be there, too?”
He looked away and grabbed the bag of presents. “It’s just one room in a house. Too small.”
Mrs. Chapman brought in the coffee and left quickly.
“Enough talking, kiddo. C’mon, let’s sit down and open these gifts.” He placed the shopping bag on the floor beside the couch.
“But I couldn’t get you anything. I didn’t have any money.” Her dad had usually given her a few dollars to buy presents.
He reached over and touched her cheek. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s have our Christmas.” He handed the bag of gifts to Jules. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” Jules put the bag down and gave him a long hug.
“Hey, you’ve waited long enough. Open those presents!”
She pulled the wrap off the first one. A board game. Clue.
“Great, Dad. Thanks.”
The next present was big.
My doll!
It was a hollow chocolate Santa.
“Don’t eat it all at once.”
“I won’t.”
She opened the last gift, a jigsaw puzzle of Santa Claus flying with his reindeer.
“That’ll keep you busy for a while.”
“It sure will.”
How many times did I tell you about the doll? How many? It’s the same price as all these gifts. Why didn’t you buy it for me?
“Man, I wish we didn’t have to meet here. Not much to do, huh?” he said, looking around the room. He finished his coffee. “Sure is Christmassy, though.”
He’s getting bored
.
“Do you want to play the game? It looks like fun.”
He looked at his watch. “Sure, Jules. They told me the visit could go for only two hours, though, and I might have to leave early. I gotta be back by two o’clock. Tracie and I are going over to Hank’s for Christmas dinner.”
Jules didn’t like Hank. He was always unfriendly and acted as if she was a pain to be around, even though she was only a kid. And whenever her dad came back from a party at Hank’s, if he came home at all that night, he was usually too drunk to do anything.
It was weird playing a board game with her dad. He tried to be interested in it, but Jules could tell he wasn’t.
Doesn’t matter. He’s come back to me, and we’ll be together again
.
When the game was over, he looked at his watch. “Gotta get going, hon. It’s one-thirty. I bet you’re gonna have a great Christmas dinner. Better than anything your dad could whip up.”
“Oh, Dad. I want to be with you.”
I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. Don’t you see that?
He gave her a hug. “And I wanna be with you, too, Jules, so don’t worry. Things are gonna be fine. You’ll see.” He stood up and headed to the kitchen to say good-bye to Mrs. Chapman.
At the front door, Jules put both arms around him again – tight – and wouldn’t let go. A blast of icy air hit them as he struggled to open it.
“Hey, no more scenes. C’mon. They can hear you. They won’t like it.” He pulled her arms away, bent down, and gave her a last hug.
As soon as he left, Marilyn and Veronica came bouncing down the stairs, and the house came back to life. Later in the afternoon, friends and relatives of the Chapmans started arriving. In total, seventeen people sat down to Christmas dinner. Jules Doherty was one of them.
She’d never had such a Christmas Day, had never seen a dinner like the one before her – glistening roasted turkey. Mountains of mashed potatoes. Sweet potatoes with maple syrup. Baby peas with mint. It was almost like the kind of dinner people on TV had, where nice families with nice houses had nice Christmases. More fuss, mess, and noise went into preparing the food than anything Jules had ever experienced.
Jules couldn’t bring herself to be part of the talk and laughter at the table and felt none of the joy she
saw in people’s faces. Nobody really talked to her. She meant nothing to them, after all.
At the first opportunity, she escaped.
In her own world, the one that was gone, she could have made her fort and disappeared into dreams. Even though it had been difficult to do when there was so much trouble around her, the power to change everything in her mind, to imagine, had always been there.
But for the past few days and all through that long Christmas Day, she’d had to be something she wasn’t – a foster kid. Acting like that person wrung her out.
Images of strange people, strange surroundings, how her dad looked and acted, were upsetting, disturbing. They threatened to smother what she was; steal parts away.