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“I’d rather he be that way than have something happen to him.”
“Of course, the way you’re raising him, something is certainly going to happen to him. Haven’t you considered there’ll come a moment when he wants to go out with friends or with a girl, and he won’t know how to do anything except play Wii and obey his uncle?”
Eric looks at me.
“That you’ve come to live with me and the boy in this house is the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in many years, but I’m not going to take any chances with Flyn just because you think he should be different. I’ve accepted this horrible red tree in the house; I’ve made the boy write absurd wishes to decorate it, but I’m not going to surrender when it comes to Flyn’s well-being. You’re my girlfriend. You’ve proposed taking care of my nephew when I’m not around, but Flyn is my responsibility, not yours; don’t forget that.”
Those ugly words on a morning as beautiful as Three Kings’ Day hurt my heart. He’s such a jerk! His house. His nephew. But determined not to cry like a fool, I pick up all the gifts for the boy and shove them back in my bag.
“Very well,” I hiss back. “I’ll write a check toyournephew. I’m sure he’ll like that better.”
I know my words and tone are irritating Eric, but I’m ready and willing to irritate him so much more.
“You said the empty room on this floor was for me, right?”
Eric nods, and I head that way. I open the living room door and discover Simona, Norbert, and Flyn.
“You can go back in,” I say, the boy’s gifts in my hands. “Youruncle and I have said what we need to say.”
I hurry to the room, open the door, and drop the skateboard and all its accessories on the floor. With the same urgency, I return to the living room. Simona and Norbert have disappeared, and only Eric and Flyn are there.
“I’ll write you a check later,” I say, though I’m a bit shaken. “But don’t expect it to be as much as your uncle’s because, one: I don’t think it’s right to give you so much money, and, two: I’m not rich!”
The boy doesn’t respond. It feels bad in here, but I’m not ready to be the one who fixes it. I remember the envelope Eric gave me. I open it, and, on seeing a blank check, I return it.
“Thanks, but no. I don’t need your money. In any case, I considered all those things you bought for me the other day to be my gifts.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me. They both stare at me. But like a devastating hurricane, I point to the tree, ready to conclude our Epiphany.
“Come on, guys. Let’s finish up our lovely morning. How about we read the wishes on our tree? Maybe one of them has already come true.”
I know I’m pushing them to the wall. I know this is not the right thing to do, but I don’t care. In just a few days, they’ve driven me out of my mind.
“I don’t want to read those stupid wishes!”
“And why not?”
“Because,” he insists.
Eric evidently understands I’m really angry, and it obviously disconcerts him not to know what to do. But I’m raging because I have to be here with these two blockheads and so far from my family.
“Let’s see. Who will be the first to read a wish from the tree?”
Neither of them moves, so I finally pick one of the pieces of paper.
“Fun ... I’ll be first, and I’ll read one of Flyn’s wishes.”
I’m taking off the green ribbon and unrolling it when the boy comes running toward me and snatches it from my hands. I’m shocked.
“I hate this; I hate this tree; and I hate your wishes!” he exclaims. “You’ve made my uncle angry, and because of you, today has been horrible.”
I look over at Eric for help, but he doesn’t move.
I want to scream, to start a third world war in this living room, but, in the end, I do the only thing I can. I pick up the goddamned red tree and drag it to the same room where I stuck the skateboard.
“Miss Judith, are you all right?” asks Simona, bewildered.
Poor woman! What a miserable time she’s having! “Relax,” she says, and takes my hands. “Mr. Zimmerman is occasionally strict when it comes to the boy, but he does it for his well-being. Don’t be angry, miss.”