Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

Interlude #7

There weren't a lot of times Deserey allowed herself to disappoint her kids. She wanted them to grow up healthy, happy, unlike she did. She wanted to give them the world and more. That's why she did her best to give them everything they asked for, show up when they needed her, even on those terrible days when she couldn't quite make herself get out of bed or focus on much of anything except for that ever present suicidal urge.

It was also why the holidays were so damned stressful for her. Even though she was atheist, society pressured her to celebrate Christmas. Buy buy buy, the promotional scams screamed at her. In all honesty, she didn't have the energy for it or even the money really. If not for her kids, she wouldn't have even put up a Christmas tree, despite the overwhelming sense of apathy the season thrust upon her. 

Every year, she'd spend all of December buying every single item on her kids' wish list, even going so far as to sleep by the front door of the Toys R We store (something Darryl complained about her doing, but she insisted she could handle it; after all she had once lived on streets much colder than Central City's for three years). She'd shop until her feet and back were on fire, until she couldn't possibly push herself to go on any further. And even after all of that, she'd spend hours upon hours wrapping gifts, decorating the house, organizing Christmas parties and gatherings with Darryl's family. She'd bake cookies for Anita and Darren's classes at school, even though she wasn't particularly savvy in the kitchen. (Darryl would normally be the one to buy and cook their Christmas dinner because of that.)

There wasn't really time to stop and think about herself or the sheering ache in her heart that never really went away. There wasn't time to dwell on the past, even though it kept lingering around every corner she turned. And there was absolutely no time to spare for that untameable despair that kept trying to drag her down into the deep, dark depths of hell. She fought it all off, just for a short while, just so her kids could have one day full of hope, and happiness, and wonderment, all the beautiful things that were suppose to come with the holidays. Just so they could have one day where nothing awful, dangerous, or even mildly bad happened to them.

...But every now and again she lost that fight. Every year, as they got older and older, the shipping grew more difficult, more expensive, more exhausting; and every now and again she just couldn't bring herself to get to the stores and do any of it until the very last second on Christmas Eve.

One of the worst Christmases of all was when Anita was eight and Daren was seven. Daren had wanted this huge dollhouse, while Anita asked for a model truck. Those alone were a total of $350. With the addition of clothes and extra random things she and Darryl thought they'd like, she'd like spending over a thousand dollars on presents. And she only got paid $6 an hour...sure, Darryl helped with his work as a psychologist, but even so there wasn't enough to pay for it all.

Deserey wasted the whole month, trying her best to save up for the things her kids wanted most, but they'd been behind on the mortgage for at least three months, and she was working to catch that up as well. By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, all she could do was sleep for twelve hours straight, the shopping completely slipping her mind as she let herself slip under the waters of despair and apathy. It wasn't even until seven o'clock on Christmas morning, when Darryl shook her awake urgently that she realized they had a huge problem.

"Dez, Dez! Wake up!" he said frantically. "We forgot the presents!"

Deserey sat straight up in their bed, eyes widening. She smacked herself on the forehead, muttering, "Shit!" In retrospect, it wasn't a big deal. They could buy them any old thing the next day at the story, apologize, blah, blah, blah. But that would mean telling Anita and Darren Santa Clause was only a myth, made up to spark some kind of joy for the holidays. That would mean crushing their little spirits and ruining Christmas for them until the ends of time. Not something Deserey was willing to do, because getting presents from Santa on Christmas morning meant the world to little seven and eight year old kids.