Who Is Paul Botterman?

V

Walks in the Moonlight. Darker Still. Promises, Not Threats.

Every memory, good and bad, is a blessing and a curse; when in the frenzied rush of our lives or the ideal stills of daydreams—they surface when we least expect them. Almost as if they are planted there to remind us of the warmest moments to feel exactly as we did with emotional precision. Or to terrorize us in the same. It is as if there is some force in the universe trying to feel something outside of the cold of its existence. Or to bask in the delight of our terror of a similar response.

Sometimes, I feel the game is rigged.

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On the last day of school before Christmas and New Year's vacation, I found my mother driving up the road with my siblings after I dropped Saffron off at home. Surprisingly, she picked me up and wanted Saffron to go along. My girlfriend didn't need to be begged with everything that transpired with Ashleigh Miles, and the thought of being alone turned phobic as the details came, and you had no choice but to absorb them. On the main road, to my horror, Mom turned the radio on to Conway Twitty and then cranked it up as she sang along. My embarrassment something cutesy Saffron would use on me later.

Mom explained that if we couldn't have a proper Christmas. We were damn sure going to try to closely even it out. Dinner was first, followed by a drive around town to see how many folks decorated. Surprise was something of a theme on this day, as the still warmish weather and lack of snow seemed taboo on this side of the world to what I was used to. There were a few light shows I would have never guessed happened in these climates. Further, a Santa Workshop where Jack got his first time on the big man's lap and had stalled the already lengthy line when he could not tell of one thing he wanted when the kid had no idea with how joyless and deprived his childhood was turning out. Saffron, who hadn't met my brothers or sisters until this day, had fallen in love with the dumb little guy as much as Pete was clearly smitten with her in the onset of theatric crushing. I had to elbow him a few times to get him to stop staring. I'm sure the creep was fuming that little Jack got to hold her hand through the mall and even share a vanilla cone with her, imagining it was the closest to getting a kiss he could get if he could only find a way to justify their age gap and status to see it happen. Soon, his behavior turned almost clownish as he went over the top trying to impress a girl five years his senior and one that he didn't stand a snowflake's chance of seeing the inside of Hell.

I was curious, all things considered, not of Pete but of Paul. "And your Highness was okay with this venture? I can't imagine him having a change of heart from the Christmas Spirit."

Mom looked withered but otherwise showed a small glimmer of defiance. "I told him I was going to take you and the kids out to see the rest of Ocala. You haven't really been out since you got here. Oh, and I said I needed to pick up some stuff for the house. We'll have to do that before we head back. Otherwise, he knows nothing. Seemed like he wanted to get us all out anyway to be alone."

Saffron wasn't in the loop just yet. I barely talked about home. Rather, I spoke of home, as in Alexander, and all my childhood memories before the divorce. Far as she knew, I had a stepdad who was a total asshole and whom I had nothing nice to say about in, quite frankly, the most basic of tense. She never pried, which I'm thankful for. On this day, having too much fun being swarmed by children, I thought it would be a little overbearing and ended up being wrong. Able to take Pete and his overreaching flirtation in a rebound as she joked about keeping him in line enough, he conducted himself not so much like a fool. Marissa snickered when we fell behind to remark how we were kissing in trees, getting married, and having babies with Annette casting duck faces I promised to slap off her lips. That earned me a pinch in their defense as Saffron overheard.