in the day you will. But you’ll be at our house for dinner. Then you go to Mom’s Christmas morning, and then I think it’s Aunt Louise’s afterward,” Lu said, surprised that she could keep it all straight. Blended family holidays were less blended than they were pieced up and fractured, balled up like old drugstore receipts at the bottom of a purse. With Lu’s mom and dad living in two separate states and Lu in a third, with Ward’s sons alternating households on alternating Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Easters, Lu and Ward ran from one end of the country to the other, one house to the next. The gifts piled up, and the kids couldn’t even remember which grandparent or stepgrandparent or not-really-my-aunt-but-whatever did the giving. Sometimes Lu herself gave up entirely and got on a plane to visit her own family by herself. On those occasions, it was hard not to feel a shameful relief.
She checked her watch, figuring that she had less than an hour before the boys’ patience would be worn down to the nibs and she would be stuck buying all the presents alone. And of course that would be the easier thing. But after her colossal gaffe last year, she wanted this year to be authentic. She wanted each of Ward’s sons to say to him, “I picked that out for you myself, Dad. Do you like it?” Just one genuine Christmas, and she would be satisfied that she had done her job right.
“Let’s move on,” she said. “There’s a Carson’s a couple of doors down. Maybe we can find something there.”
Carson’s, unfortunately, had some sort of thing for T-shirts with “funny” sayings on them. The boys, unfortunately, also had a thing for T-shirts with “funny” sayings.
“Look at this, Lu!” Ollie said, holding up a bright orange T-shirt.
I’m a Secret Agent!
shrieked the shirt.
This is my disguise!
“That’s cute, Ollie.”
“Can I buy it for Daddy?”
“Uh, why don’t you look through some of the other shirts?”
Beam me up, Scotty. Denial is cheaper than therapy. I’m with Stupid.
All the reasons why beer was better than women and why women were better than men. There was
Sorry, this is not a slogan,
but in letters so tiny that you had to have the shirt three inches away to read it. Britt took a liking to
Mad as a box of frogs
and got about as mad as a box of frogs when Ollie didn’t understand what it was supposed to mean.
“Huh?”
Ollie said in that irritating way of his, curling his lips up to the gumline.
The huhs alone could drive a person crazy, Lu thought. Rule number 4,289 of stepparenting: Beware the huhs! “Ollie, don’t needle your brother.”
“But I still don’t know why the frogs are mad,” Ollie said.
Britt shrugged. “How about this, Ollie?” he said, holding up a shirt:
This is my clone.
Ollie frowned. “Ooo!” he said, getting it, grabbing at it.
A woman motoring her way through racks of wrinkle-resistant slacks, blabbing into her cell phone, smacked into Lu and didn’t stop to apologize. “Ham?” the woman shouted into the phone. “Since when do you like
ham
?” Lu rubbed her shoulder. When she was young, she used to think that people were full of delicious and dangerous secrets, private thoughts about desire and despair. Now she knew that mostly they thought about meat products and who was getting the milk.
“That would make a great shirt, don’t you think?” said Britt, reading Lu’s thoughts.
“Since when do you like ham?”
“That’s stupid,” said Devin, oddly angry. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about my shirt!” Ollie yelled, forgetting to whimper.
Lu took the T-shirt gently from Ollie’s hands. “This is a good shirt, but I’m sure we can find something better in another store, don’t you think?”
“When?” Ollie demanded. “When will we find something?”
“Soon,” Lu soothed. “We’ll find something soon.”
Lu put the shirt on the rack with all the others, hoping to make a quick escape, when Devin said,
She checked her watch, figuring that she had less than an hour before the boys’ patience would be worn down to the nibs and she would be stuck buying all the presents alone. And of course that would be the easier thing. But after her colossal gaffe last year, she wanted this year to be authentic. She wanted each of Ward’s sons to say to him, “I picked that out for you myself, Dad. Do you like it?” Just one genuine Christmas, and she would be satisfied that she had done her job right.
“Let’s move on,” she said. “There’s a Carson’s a couple of doors down. Maybe we can find something there.”
Carson’s, unfortunately, had some sort of thing for T-shirts with “funny” sayings on them. The boys, unfortunately, also had a thing for T-shirts with “funny” sayings.
“Look at this, Lu!” Ollie said, holding up a bright orange T-shirt.
I’m a Secret Agent!
shrieked the shirt.
This is my disguise!
“That’s cute, Ollie.”
“Can I buy it for Daddy?”
“Uh, why don’t you look through some of the other shirts?”
Beam me up, Scotty. Denial is cheaper than therapy. I’m with Stupid.
All the reasons why beer was better than women and why women were better than men. There was
Sorry, this is not a slogan,
but in letters so tiny that you had to have the shirt three inches away to read it. Britt took a liking to
Mad as a box of frogs
and got about as mad as a box of frogs when Ollie didn’t understand what it was supposed to mean.
“Huh?”
Ollie said in that irritating way of his, curling his lips up to the gumline.
The huhs alone could drive a person crazy, Lu thought. Rule number 4,289 of stepparenting: Beware the huhs! “Ollie, don’t needle your brother.”
“But I still don’t know why the frogs are mad,” Ollie said.
Britt shrugged. “How about this, Ollie?” he said, holding up a shirt:
This is my clone.
Ollie frowned. “Ooo!” he said, getting it, grabbing at it.
A woman motoring her way through racks of wrinkle-resistant slacks, blabbing into her cell phone, smacked into Lu and didn’t stop to apologize. “Ham?” the woman shouted into the phone. “Since when do you like
ham
?” Lu rubbed her shoulder. When she was young, she used to think that people were full of delicious and dangerous secrets, private thoughts about desire and despair. Now she knew that mostly they thought about meat products and who was getting the milk.
“That would make a great shirt, don’t you think?” said Britt, reading Lu’s thoughts.
“Since when do you like ham?”
“That’s stupid,” said Devin, oddly angry. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about my shirt!” Ollie yelled, forgetting to whimper.
Lu took the T-shirt gently from Ollie’s hands. “This is a good shirt, but I’m sure we can find something better in another store, don’t you think?”
“When?” Ollie demanded. “When will we find something?”
“Soon,” Lu soothed. “We’ll find something soon.”
Lu put the shirt on the rack with all the others, hoping to make a quick escape, when Devin said,
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