Bonus: Fifty Shades Christmas
My sweater is scratchy and smells of new. Everything is new. I have a new
mommy. She is a doctor. She has a tetscope that I can stick in my ears and hear
my heart. She is kind and smiles. She smiles all the time. Her teeth are small and
white.
“Do you want to help me decorate the tree, Christian?”
There is a big tree in the room with the big couches. A big tree. I have seen
these before. But in stores. Not inside where the couches are. My new house has
lots of couches. Not one couch. Not one brown sticky couch.
“Here, look.”
My new mommy shows me a box, and it’s full of balls. Lots of pretty shiny
balls.
“These are ornaments for the tree.”
Orn-a-ments. Orn-a-ments. My head says the word. Orn-a-ments.
“And these—” she stops and pulls out a string with little flowers on them.
“These are the lights. Lights first, and then we can trim the tree.” She reaches
down and puts her fingers in my hair. I go very still. But I like her fingers in my
hair. I like to be near New Mommy. She smells good. Clean. And she only
touches my hair.
“Mom!”
He’s calling. Lelliot. He’s big and loud. Very loud. He talks. All the time. I
don’t talk at all. I have no words. I have words in my head.
“Elliot, darling, we’re in the sitting room.”
He runs in. He has been to school. He has a picture. A picture he has drawn
for my new mommy. She is Lelliot’s mommy, too. She kneels down and hugs him
and looks at the picture. It is a house with a mommy and a daddy and a Lelliot and
a Christian. Christian is very small in Lelliot’s picture. Lelliot is big. He has a big
smile and Christian has a sad face.
Daddy is here, too. He walks toward Mommy. I hold my blankie tight. He
kisses New Mommy and New Mommy isn’t frightened. She smiles. She kisses
him back. I squeeze my blankie.
“Hello, Christian.” Daddy has a deep soft voice. I like his voice. He is never
loud. He does not shout. He does not shout like . . . He reads books to me when I
go to bed. He reads about a cat and a hat and green eggs and ham. I have never
seen green eggs. Daddy bends down so he is small.
“What did you do today?”
I show him the tree.
“You bought a tree? A Christmas tree?”
I say yes with my head.
“It’s a beautiful tree. You and Mommy chose very well. It’s an important job
choosing the right tree.”
He pats my hair, too, and I go very still and hold my blankie tightly. Daddy
doesn’t hurt me.
525/551
“Daddy, look at my picture.” Lelliot is mad when Daddy talks to me. Lelliot
is mad at me. I smack Lelliot when he is mad at me. New Mommy is mad at me if
I do. Lelliot does not smack me. Lelliot is scared of me.
The lights on the tree are pretty.
“Here, let me show you. The hook goes through the little eye, and then you
can hang it on the tree.” Mommy puts the red orn-a . . . orn-a-ment on the tree.
“You try with this little bell.”
The little bell rings. I shake it. The sound is a happy sound. I shake it again.
Mommy smiles. A big smile. A special smile for me.
“You like the bell, Christian?”
I say yes with my head and shake the bell once more, and it tinkles happily.
“You have a lovely smile, darling boy.” Mommy blinks and wipes her hand
on her eyes. She strokes my hair. “I love to see your smile.” Her hand moves to
my shoulder. No. I step back and squeeze my blankie. Mommy looks sad and then
happy. She strokes my hair.
“Shall we put the bell on the tree?”
My head says yes.
“Christian, you must tell me when you’re hungry. You can do that. You can take
Mommy’s hand and lead Mommy to the kitchen and point.” She points her long
finger at me. Her nail is shiny and pink. It is pretty. But I don’t know if my new
mommy is mad or not. I have finished all my dinner. Macaroni and cheese. It
tastes good.
“I don’t want you to be hungry, darling. Okay? Now would you like some ice
cream?”
My head says yes! Mommy smiles at me. I like her smiles. They are better
than macaroni and cheese.
526/551
The tree is pretty. I stand and look at it and hug my blankie. The lights twinkle
and are all different colors, and the orn-a-ments are all different colors. I like the
blue ones. And on the top of the tree is a big star. Daddy held Lelliot up, and Lelliot
put the star on the tree. Lelliot likes putting the star on the tree. I want to put
the star on the tree . . . but I don’t want Daddy to hold me up high. I don’t want
him to hold me. The star is sparkly and bright.
Beside the tree is the piano. My new mommy lets me touch the black and the
white on the piano. Black and white. I like the white sounds. The black sound is
wrong. But I like the black sound, too. I go white to black. White to black. Black
to white. White, white, white, white. Black, black, black, black. I like the sound. I
like the sound a lot.
“Do you want me to play for you, Christian?”
My new mommy sits down. She touches the white and the black, and the
songs come. She presses the pedals underneath. Sometimes it’s loud and sometimes
it’s quiet. The song is happy. Lelliot likes Mommy to sing, too. Mommy
sings about an ugly duckling. Mommy makes a funny quacking noise. Lelliot
makes the funny quacking noise, and he makes his arms like wings and flaps them
up and down like a bird. Lelliot is funny.
Mommy laughs. Lelliot laughs. I laugh.
“You like this song, Christian?” And Mommy has her sad-happy face.
I have a stock-ing. It is red and it has a picture of a man with a red hat and a big
white beard. He is Santa. Santa brings presents. I have seen pictures of Santa. But
Santa never brought me presents before. I was bad. Santa doesn’t bring presents to
boys who are bad. Now I am good. My new mommy says I am good, very good.
New Mommy doesn’t know. I must never tell New Mommy . . . but I am bad. I
don’t want New Mommy to know that.
Daddy hangs the stock-ing over the fireplace. Lelliot has a stocking, too. Lelliot
can read the word on his stock-ing. It says Lelliot. There is a word on my stocking.
Christian. New Mommy spells it out. C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N.
527/551
Daddy sits on my bed. He reads to me. I hold my blankie. I have a big room. Sometimes
the room is dark and I have bad dreams. Bad dreams about before. My
new mommy comes to bed with me when I have the bad dreams. She lies down
and she sings soft songs and I go to sleep. She smells of soft and new and lovely.
My new mommy is not cold. Not like . . . not like . . . And my bad dreams go
when she is there asleep with me.
Santa has been here. Santa does not know I have been bad. I am glad Santa does
not know. I have a train and a plane and a helicopter and a car and a helicopter.
My helicopter can fly. My helicopter is blue. It flies around the Christmas tree. It
flies over the piano and lands in the middle of the white. It flies over Mommy and
flies over Daddy and flies over Lelliot as he plays with the Lego. The helicopter
flies through the house, through the dining room, through the kitchen. He flies
past the door to Daddy’s study and upstairs in my bedroom, in Lelliot’s bedroom,
Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom. He flies through the house, because it’s my
house. My house where I live.
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