20 Questions

Chapter 33

"Mommy, wake up! Mommy, it's Christmas. I've been a good boy this year. We have to see what Santa brought."

She's not waking up so I continue to shake her. I hear a groan so at least I know that she is alive. I never know if she is going to be alive each time I shake her. I look around the bed and see an open bottle of some white pills and a beer bottle spilled on the sheets. I pick up the bottle and grab a towel from the closet to clean up the spill. I put the pills back in the bottle and close the lid. I wish I could throw them away so she would stop passing out, but I know she would be angry with me. I definitely don't want to make her mad on Christmas. I shake her again and tell her it's Christmas. She swats at me and tells me to go away.

"Come on Mommy, we have to see what Santa brought. I hope he got me a new bike!"

"Santa didn't bring you shit because you've been a little asshole all year. All you do is wake me up and take my money. Go away," she growls at me and turns over.

She can't mean that. I have been a good boy this year. I get good grades and I clean up her boo boos every time Daddy hits her. I pull the covers back over her and go out to the kitchen to find some breakfast. I open the fridge and move the beer to the side. There is a little milk in the back and I'm hoping maybe there is some cereal in this trailer. I open the milk and it immediately makes me gag. The white liquid has chunks in it and it looks like it went bad a while ago. I rummage through the cabinets to find some cereal, reaching my hand in to get a couple pieces out. It tastes stale, but it is all we have.

I put on my coat and shoes and walk next door to the trailer beside ours. When I open the door, I see my dad passed out on the lawn and I can't decide if I want him to be dead or not. Before my mom got high, we sat on the couch and watched a Christmas cartoon. My dad came in drunk and told her to "turn that shit off." He said Christmas is just an excuse to spend money on people that we don't really care about.

He was looking right at me when he said it.

My mother refused so he yanked the cord of the TV out of the wall. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, telling her that she won't argue with him. I pulled at his leg and begged him to stop, but that just resulted in me getting pushed to the floor. He's a bad person. I knock on my neighbor's door and the woman answers.

"What do you want?" she asks me with a sour look on her face.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Walker. I was going to see if I could borrow a wee bit of milk for my cereal."

She rolls her eyes and huffs, "Of course you all don't have milk in that dump. Maybe if your parents didn't spend all their money on booze and drugs, they could afford to buy some damn milk and quit mooching off me."

"I'm very sorry, Miss Walker, don't worry about it. I will just eat the cereal without milk. Sorry to bother you this morning. Merry Christmas." I turn to leave and she tells me to hold on a minute. She walks back in the trailer and comes back out with a cup of milk.

"Tell your parents to get their shit together before I report them to CPS," she spits.

"Yes, ma'am, I will."

I head back to our trailer with my cup of milk, walking right past my father. I pour the milk in my bowl and try to pretend that I am eating something better than old cereal. I plug the TV cord back in and wait until one of my parents wakes up.

We didn't have a Christmas tree. I knew we couldn't afford one and my dad would never allow it. My mommy finally wakes up three hours later and stumbles into the living room where I am watching cartoons. She is sweating and throws up in the sink. She does this every morning until she takes one of those white pills. I don't know what they are, but I don't like what they do to her after she takes them. Then again, I don't like what they do to her if she doesn't take them. I wonder if everybody's mommy is like this.

"Where's your father?" she barks at me.

"He's asleep in the yard," I tell her.

"Fucking piece of shit." I agree with her, but I'm not allowed to say that. "Well, Merry Christmas. I hope you weren't expecting a bunch of gifts because that isn't going to happen." She opens the door to the trailer and stumbles out to wake up my dad. I hear her scream at him, "Go get your son something. It is Christmas in case you forgot, you useless fuck."

I stay quiet and imagine what it would be like to wake up on Christmas morning to a big, beautiful tree with twinkling lights and presents underneath. I will probably never know. An hour later, my father returns and tells me to come outside and get my gift. I bounce out of the trailer until I see him holding a blue and black bike that is too big for me and covered in mud. That bike looks familiar. I've seen a kid in the trailer park riding that same bike.

"Is that Mason's bike?" I ask my father.

"Who the fuck is Mason? I just bought this bike," he says.

"Mason lives down the street. You didn't buy that bike; it has mud all over it. It's his bike."

"What? You think you're smarter than me?" he screams. I shake my head and stand there fearfully.

"The way I figure, Mason's dad owes me. I bought his beers at the bar last night."

Oh, so he can buy somebody beers at the bar, but he can't buy his own son a Christmas present.

"No, thank you. That's Mason's bike. I was hoping Santa would bring me a new bike," I say while looking at the ground.

"Santa? There's no fucking Santa. Now take the bike, you ungrateful little shit!" He throws the bike at me, knocking me over. My mom runs over and picks me up as the tears burn down my face. She starts screaming at him and he backhands her in the face. I run inside and jump on the couch, which is also my bed, sobbing into the pillow.

I hate Christmas and I hate this life.

I wish I had different parents, like the kids at school. I start thinking up the lie I will tell the other kids at school about what I got for Christmas.

I force myself to go back to sleep. At least when I sleep, I can dream about a normal life, with normal parents and a magical Christmas. Sometimes I wish Miss Walker really would call CPS, whoever that is. Anything has to be better than this life.

Merry Christmas to me.