Family Short Story – The Lies I Believed
Photo credit: calgrin from morguefile.com
Chapter One:
Christmas Morning
“Mom! Wake up! Wake up! Santa came!” yelled my little 8-year-old boy, Jason.
It was Christmas day and as always Jason was up first. Glancing at the clock I saw it was 6:00AM, damn I had only gotten four hours of sleep because Jason had insisted on staying up all night.
“Okay give me a second to wake up and get my coffee and I will be right there to watch you open the presents.” I said as I slithered out of bed and into the bathroom.
I splashed some water on my face and stepped back in reaction, it was ice-cold. I felt around for my towel and dabbed my face, then quickly went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I watched Jason impatiently look at me and tell me to hurry up. I sighed as he gave me those irresistible puppy dog eyes and told him to start opening the presents. As I watched him unwrap the presents I couldn’t help but smile; he looked just like his father, Blake, with his brown hair and hazel eyes. I came out of my trance when a a shriek of joy filled the room, Jason had opened the remote control helicopter I had bought him (or ‘Santa’ had made him).
“Who got you that?”
“Santa.”
“Dangit, I was sure you were on the naughty list!”
“Well apparently you are because I don’t see any for you!” Jason replied confidently.
“Nice comeback.” I said shocked, he definitely has been learning from me.
My coffee was soon finished and I plopped myself down on the couch and watched Jason beam with joy after every present he opened. Once all his presents were opened he gave me a sloppily written Christmas card. On the outside was written, “Merry Christmas!” and on the inside a small note, “You are the best mommy ever I love you!”.
“Aw I love you too Jason!” I exclaimed giving him a bear hug.
“I have one more thing!” he said as he ran to his room.
He came out with old, wrinkled picture. As I looked at the picture, I struggled to hold back tears, it was Blake, my husband. He had died of a heart failure two years ago and to see his picture brought back painful memories.
Then one question came across my mind, “Where did you get this?” I asked Jason.
“Daddy gave it to me.”
“You should keep this. It is a memory of daddy.”
“No, I think you should, you need it the most.”
I gathered him into my arms. This was the last Christmas we felt happy and secure.
***
