Doing a little Christmas shopping?”
“Nah. We’re just hanging out.”
“Well, have fun!” And get a haircut, I think. They move on and I turn back to Kiki. She looks glum and maybe a little sleepy. “You want to build a teddy bear?”
Build-A-Bear is crazy. There’s a birthday party ahead of us with a gaggle of preteen girls, so it takes a while to get through all the stations. Kiki chooses a Dalmatian instead of a bear and dresses the stuffed animal in a froufrou little summer dress even though it’s winter outside. At the sound table, she picks out a little box that plays “Who Let the Dogs Out” and giggles every time it goes woof, woof, woof-woof. When we’re done, we print out the birth certificate and head to the counter to check out. I am exhausted.
“Mr. McNelis!”
“Kim! I didn’t know you worked here.” Kim I know immediately. She’s another of those serious students like Robert. Same class, in fact. She’s strictly academics though. I’ve wondered before if she knows what a cliché she is—Asian, smart, respectful. Even the serious, dark-framed glasses scream ambition. But she has a job, and therefore I must concede that she is more well-rounded than I thought. I have her pegged for valedictorian, or salutatorian at the least. I set Kiki on the counter and introduce her.
“Is this your doggy?” Kim asks Kiki, bouncing the dog on the counter so the skirt on its dress flaps up and down. Kiki smiles and hugs the dog to herself. “She’s a cutie,” Kim says, then to me, “She’s a cutie too.”
“Thanks. I think so.” I pull out my wallet while Kim puts together a traveling home for the dog, aptly named Spot now.
“So, I didn’t know you were married,” Kim says, sliding the credit card receipt over for me to sign.
“Divorced.”
I hand the receipt over and see her eyes widen as she says, “Oh.” Then she flashes me a smile, a very big smile, and tells Kiki to take good care of that puppy. We leave, and I can’t help thinking I’ve just missed something.
Robert
I think I would have gone out to dinner with Hannibal Lecter if it got me out of the house for a couple of hours.
With school out, the mall is packed with Christmas shoppers. But if there’s one thing Nic likes, it’s a big audience.
He hangs his heavy sunglasses from the V-neck of his sweater as we merge with the crowd. “I want to pick out some boots,” he says, grabbing my hand.
His hand feels foreign in mine, and immediately I suspect it’s just for show. It annoys me the way he’s thrusting his chest out as we walk. He looks like a rooster. It’s all so affected, like he’s advertising—gay boy here; come and get me—when I know for a fact that if anybody took him up on it, he’d squeal and hide behind me like a little girl, and then I’d have to defend his honor. I hope I’m never called to do that because I’m not so sure I would.
A lone guy with heavily tattooed arms in a sleeveless shirt strolls past us. Nic appraises him with his eyes, then turns and walks backward. “Wow, do you see those biceps? Damn, break me off a piece of that.” He gives an exaggerated shiver.
Really? Seriously?
“Um,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me up short. “Let’s go check out Hot Topic. I want to look for a beanie. I think I’d look good in one.”
Right. I’d put money on the odds that Sleeveless in December just stepped into Hot Topic himself. I realize I don’t care one way or the other.
“You go,” I tell him. “I’m going to get us some sodas. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“No soda. It’s bad for your skin. Get water, and make sure it’s not just filtered tap water.”
I take the escalator down to the first level. There’s a Great American Cookies kiosk in the main thoroughfare just below Hot Topic. I’ll get Nic his water, but I’m having a soda.
Waiting in line is Mindy, a drum major second to Luke and one of the shortest girls I know, and Anna, a senior tuba player. They both wrap me in a big hug when I get in line behind them. We’re band; we’re family.
“Is Nic here with you?” Mindy asks.
“He’s upstairs.”
“I’m sorry about your dad, Robert,” Anna says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.
I don’t know what to do with the pity I see in their eyes. It’s misplaced at best, and unwanted at worst. I smile wanly at her and mumble a thanks. She lets go of my hand, and she and Mindy pick up their conversation as I focus on the crowds breaking around the kiosk.
Across from us, a group of girls gather outside of Build-A-Bear, each clutching a cardboard bear house while a mom counts heads.
It’s not until they move off toward the food court that I see him standing at the counter, holding a little girl on his hip. He smiles at the attendant, this girl from my math class, then signs the credit card receipt she places in front of him.
I feel my heart kick up the beat.
“So what are you doing for the holiday, Robert?”
“Huh?” Reluctantly, I look back at Mindy. “Oh, we’re just staying home.”
She seems to realize the flaw in her question and gets quiet. I glance back toward Build-A-Bear just as Mr. McNelis, holding both his daughter and the bear house now, emerges from the store and steps into the crowd. I watch him go.
When I get back upstairs, I sit on a bench outside of Hot Topic and wait for Nic. I think about texting Mr. Mac, just saying, Hi. Saw you at the mall. But I don’t. Fifteen minutes and half a soda later, I’m still waiting for Nic. I check out the store, but he’s not there.
Where are you?
Jamba Juice.
I find him sitting at a table with three of the cheerleaders. I’m sure I know their names, but I’m so irritated with Nic I can’t recall them.
“Here’s your water,” I say, smacking it down on the table.
One of the girls giggles. He turns in his seat and frowns at the soda in my hand.
“I’m leaving.” I turn and drop my soda in a trash bin, then head toward the nearest exit. I am so done with this. Nic catches up with me just as I step through the automatic door.
“Wait, Robert. Wait-wait-wait,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Would you just wait? Jesus, I drove, remember?”
“So I’ll walk home. It’s five miles. I’m sure I’ll survive.” I turn to go, but he tightens his grip.
“Why are you acting like this? You’re upset about your dad—I get that—but you don’t have to take it out on me.”
“I’m not upset about my dad. It’s you . . . and your stupid bottle of water . . . and your Sleeveless in December guy . . . and your girls.”
