Merry Christmas (1)
"Alright, everyone—have a wonderful Christmas, and I'll see you Friday! Merry Christmas!"
Before heading home, I stopped by Rose and Lily's place to exchange well-wishes and gifts, then finally returned to our own apartment. After lifting the kids out of the stroller, I collapsed onto the sofa for a short break. It felt as though I had finally knocked out a string of major tasks.
That was when Reni asked a question. He seemed so happy he was bouncing lightly in place.
"Daaad. Why did you come home early today? And is Friday tomorrow?"
Apparently he had taken Cassandra's "see you Friday" to mean tomorrow. I smiled and held out my arms; he scampered right over and nestled in. Watching us, Luca seemed to deliberate for a moment, then reluctantly crawled over and pulled himself up by my leg. What was he even debating? I couldn't tell whether his jealousy toward his older brother had finally eased, or whether his affection for Dad had simply thinned out. Either way, I scooped Luca into my arms as well and gently stroked both boys' small backs while I explained carefully.
"Today's Monday, so tomorrow is Tuesday. And tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so work is closed. Christmas Day itself is off, and the day after that is a holiday too."
Truthfully, Greg and Cassandra could have taken longer leave like most other office workers, but they chose not to. Their reason was a grateful one: the company was still getting on its feet, and they didn't want to leave their posts empty for too long.
Reni mulled over my words, then his eyes sparkled with realization.
"So grown-ups have vacation too!"
"That's right. Our son's so smart."
The next day.
Because we spent the entire day at home instead of going out, Christmas Eve didn't feel especially different from any other day. After a peaceful, happy stretch of hours and once bedtime preparations were finished, the two boys crawled into the tent as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"……."
I was glad they loved the Christmas-tree tent so much—but a little sting of disappointment was starting to creep in.
"Should Dad come in with you?"
I stuck only my head through the tent opening and looked at them. Reni's face turned conflicted.
"But Dad's too big……."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Feeling a bit deflated, I glanced at Luca. I had hoped my second son might at least miss me a little, but he was completely absorbed in a brand-new toy and paid his father no mind at all. Unwilling to become a clingy dad, I pulled my head out of the tent with a carefully neutral expression. If it was already like this, what would puberty look like? Would I really end up leftover rice?
The mild disappointment was one thing; there were still practical matters to handle. I quietly counted the gifts I would set in front of the tent once the boys fell asleep, plus the ones already waiting under the tree.
Then Reni suddenly poked his body out of the tent as if something urgent had just occurred to him and called to me in a rush.
"Daaad, this is bad!"
"Huh? What is?"
My own pulse jumped as I turned to him.
"You said today is Christmas Eve! The day Santa comes!"
"Yeah, that's right."
"But our house doesn't have a chimney for Santa to come down! What do we do?"
All the tension drained out of me at once. And here I thought something was actually wrong.
"Ohhh, it's fine. When Santa comes, Dad will just open the front door for him."
Reni's eyes went round.
"Santa takes the elevator?"
"Yep. That's how he does it for houses without chimneys."
Reni muttered "Oh, I see" with the look of a child whose grand illusion had just cracked. He was so adorable that every last scrap of my earlier disappointment vanished, replaced by pure laughter. I ruffled the hair of the boy still crouching on the floor, deep in thought.
"But Santa keeps everything secret, so he won't come if kids are still awake. That means Reni has to go to sleep right away, doesn't he?"
"Ah—right! Okay!"
With bright, clear eyes again, he ducked back into the tent. A moment later he was lying down, gazing up at the ceiling where the twinkling lights spilled through.
Hoping they would fall asleep quickly, I sat on the sofa and quietly played the guitar. After the first song I could still hear soft giggles; after the second, Reni's drowsy little voice. When the third song ended, everything was silent. I peeked inside. Both boys were already breathing in soft, even sleep. They looked exactly like angels.
I took a picture of them, brought the gifts out of the cupboard, set them in front of the tent, and closed out the day myself.
Christmas morning arrived.
I wasn't a child, so a Christmas morning didn't feel drastically different from any other. I woke at my usual hour, finished a light workout, showered, and settled onto the sofa with a leisurely cup of coffee.
"……."
Yes—nothing was different from usual. And yet, watching the children sleeping inside the glittering Christmas-tree tent, a warm fullness rose unmistakably in my chest.
"This is nice."
I murmured without meaning to. Just then Reni emerged from the tent with sleep-tousled hair. Even half-awake, he lit up the moment he saw me.
"Dad, Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas to you too, son."
Worried he might be cold, I stood with a blanket and wrapped him snugly in it as I lifted him up.
"Did our Reni sleep well?"
"Mm-hmm."
He wriggled inside the warm blanket and rubbed his eyes. Then his gaze landed on the new cluster of gift packages in front of the tent—exactly as many as the ones he had unwrapped over the past few days—and a huge smile bloomed across his face.
"Did Santa come? Did he ring the doorbell?"
"He did. But he knocked instead of ringing the bell so he wouldn't wake you two."
"Ahh!"
There were new presents, but barely any time to open them. We had to head to the church early this morning. Since Reni was already up, I moved quickly—helping him change clothes, then simply buttoning a coat over Luca's pajamas. After one last check of the bags I had packed into the stroller the day before, we left the house with the children.
The reason for the hurry was Father. Christmas was, of course, his busiest day of the year. We had arranged a brief meeting after the dawn Mass and before the noon Mass, so being late was not an option.
"Father."
"Oh my, Jun's here."
He welcomed our family warmly and accepted the gift boxes I handed him with genuine pleasure. When I offered the extra large box of an ice maker topped with a big ribbon, though, his expression turned faintly dubious.
"An ice maker in the dead of winter, Jun? It looks nice and expensive, I suppose……."
He had already sized up the price range. So very like him.
"Keep it safe until summer and use it then. No more serving scalding coffee to guests who visit in the heat."
These days we texted whenever anything came up, so there wasn't much left to say in person. Plenty of other people were waiting to see him as well, so after simply handing over the gifts I left the office.
Next I went to pay my respects to Mother Superior. Given the day, she too was surrounded by people. I quietly exchanged a greeting with my eyes, delivered the gift, and turned my steps toward the group home where Jennyfer and Tony were.
"Reni!"
The moment I opened the front door, children dressed like little angels came running, calling his name. Looking closer, I saw tiny wings sewn onto their white outfits.
Ah—they were adorable.
"Why are you so late! We have to practice the song!"
"We already practiced a lot, so it's fine! But—angel clothes for me too! Where's mine?"
In his haste Reni's words tumbled over each other. Tony took charge of him.
"Come on! Let's go to Sister Marisa!"
Before I could even say there was no need to rush, Reni had already dashed off with Tony. Jennyfer greeted Luca, then went and sat beside Alicia on the sofa, taking her hand.
"……."
Jennyfer looked a little listless, so I called her over again and offered a gift.
"Uncle prepared a present for Jennyfer. Will you take it?"
"Wow. Thank you."
The little girl accepted it happily. But her expression soon clouded again—her mood seemed to lift and fall in waves. I didn't need to ask why. On the best days, the people you treasure most come to mind. And her mother had not come to see her even on Christmas.
"Waaah, a pink heart princess keychain!"
Still, a child is a child. The sparkling accessory right in front of her eyes had clearly stolen her heart. Instead of offering clumsy comfort or a pitying look, I simply answered her delighted exclamations with all my enthusiasm.
I gave Tony a gift as well when he returned to the living room ahead of Reni. Tony was purely, simply happy. If it was only because he had never expected anything and therefore couldn't be disappointed, then "pure joy" might not be the right phrase……. Either way, my heart ached just the same, so I tried hard to focus on the gladness.
We were unwrapping presents one by one when Reni came running back looking exactly like a baby angel descended from heaven. He spun proudly in front of Alicia and me.
"I'm an angel today! I have wings on my back too."
Seeing the cute little cotton wings, I could tell how much care the sisters had put into them. With three children standing there in angel costumes, there was no way I could resist taking pictures. As a kid I used to hate it when adults photographed me; now here I was doing the exact same thing. Luckily none of the children minded. They even made V-signs or pulled funny faces for the camera. Maybe that was a generational difference.
Anyway, unlike my own childhood, these kids really did seem as though they could grow up like true siblings, and that eased my heart a little. Looking at Alicia, who simply watched everything with quiet eyes, I couldn't feel completely at ease……. Still, the young sisters who oversaw daily life at the group home were kind to the children, and Alicia herself seemed to have a decent relationship with Tony and Jennyfer as well.
Reni and Jennyfer each took one of Alicia's hands as they walked; Tony walked hand-in-hand with Sister Marisa just behind them. I followed. Sooner or later they would have to leave this place when they came of age, but until then I hoped they could grow a little stronger. I prayed that wish with all my heart.
The noon Mass ended.
Looking thoroughly sulky with his arms crossed, Reni peered up at me and asked,
"Dad, you didn't fall asleep while I was singing, right?"
"Of course not. Dad filmed the whole thing with the camera. I only dozed off when Father was talking."
I offered the half-excuse that Father's sermons must have a sleep spell cast on them.
"Oh, honestly."
Reni uncrossed his arms as if there was no helping it and came into my embrace. Smiling a little sheepishly, I held him tight, then went into the group home with the children. After parking the stroller in the living room, I carried both boys over to sit in front of the fireplace and warm up. Luca, who had slept soundly through Mass just like me, stretched long and stared with bright, curious eyes at the crackling logs.
We had returned first, so Jennyfer, Tony, Alicia, and the sisters arrived one after another and naturally gathered around the living room.
"Shall our little ones have some warm milk?"
"Yes!"
At Sister Marisa's call, the three children trotted after her into the kitchen. Only Sister Greta, Alicia, Luca, and I remained in the living room.
"……."
"……."
An awkward silence settled for a moment—then Luca sneezed, "Achoo!" Every gaze turned to the baby.
"Luca, are you cold? Here—sniff!"
He still couldn't manage a proper "sniff," but he didn't seem cold or under the weather. I wiped his face and looked up to find Alicia watching him.
"……."
Until now I had deliberately avoided placing Luca in Alicia's arms. To Luca she was a stranger, not a mother; to Alicia, Luca was the child who dragged back painful memories. But the Alicia of today—whether because of medication or genuine improvement—no longer looked as though she would burst into tears or a panic attack at the sight of him. Sister Greta, who knew her condition better than anyone, showed no sign of intervening either.
Carefully adjusting my hold on Luca, I shifted over to sit beside Alicia. Then I set him down between us. Luca's gaze remained fixed on the burning logs in the fireplace. But for Alicia that seemed enough; she looked at the child she had given birth to with eyes a little warmer, a little more affectionate.
That, however, appeared to be all for today. She did not reach out to touch his hair. Neither did she wear a pained expression at his side, and Luca, for his part, did not shy away from the stranger and bury himself against me.
"……."
There was still no conversation, yet the air that lingered felt warm rather than empty. Yes—perhaps this much was enough for today. If we kept going like this, maybe one day they would be able to look at each other comfortably, speak, and even smile.
I offered the belated prayer I had not managed during Mass.