Tim turned the snowglobe around, looking at it intently. Becky said she didn't figure him for a snowglobe kind of guy.
"My mom gave me that one," he said somberly, as Skeeter jumped up and licked his hand.
-/-/-/-
Tim he had forgotten once again to ask him mom to pick him up from Pop Warner practice. She never seemed to remember herself.
"Timmy, you need a ride home, dear?," Mrs. Street asked, stroking the boy's silky hair.
"Uh, yeah, guess so," Timmy said, dropping his head. "If it's not too much trouble."
"Course not, darlin'. What happened?," she asked, gently tracing the bruiser he'd developed around his left eye.
"Jes, um, from practice," he lied. He'd picked a fight during recess just because he felt like hitting something. Jason gave him a sideways glance.
Jason rode shotgun, and Tim clambered in the back. Mrs. Street watched him in the rear view mirror. He was basically a sweet, polite boy, but was often so sad and angry for a nine year old. She worried about him.
"Hey Timmy, wanna come over tomorrow and check out the new X-Men comics I got?," Jason asked excitedly.
"Okay," Tim agreed, grinning as he got out of the car. "Thank you, maam," he said. "Bye Jay."
As they drove off, he pulled the shoulder strap of his big duffel bag with all his gear onto his shoulder and walked slowly to his house.
Nobody was home. Tim had a key, but he sat down on the stoop. He didn't want to go inside, with all the memories of people yelling, throwing things, slamming phones, messes that needed to be cleaned up. Since he was the one with the most time and no job, he wound up cleaning a lot. If he didn't go inside, he wouldn't have to start chores.
Billy was probably doing his shift at the gas station, and he spent little time at home. His dad was on a "business trip," and his mom… well she was in one of a few places, either finishing a shift as a receptionist at the refinery office, or at happy hour with her work friends.
Tim lay back on the stoop, putting his head on his duffel bag, looking up at the clouds. He was tired from school and practice and felt sleepy.
-/-/-/-
"Timmy… hey Timmy," his mom said quietly, touching his shoulder, putting down a bag of groceries.
He blinked, rubbing his fist in his eyes. "Guess I fell asleep," he murmured.
"How'd you get home, honey?," she asked, unconcerned that he'd had to figure it out himself.
"Mrs. Street," he said. Who'd she think? Nine times out of ten it was Mrs. Street.
"That was nice of Joanne. I can always count on her," she said. "Thank god," she whispered, "cause it's too much otherwise."
Tim felt bad, making his mom be responsible for picking him up all the time. His dad was away a lot, and Billy was never home.
She sat down on the stoop next to him and pulled something out of her bag.
"Close your eyes. I got you something," she said. Her beautiful face softened within the frame of her long dark hair, her green eyes glowing as she looked intently at her son.
Tim turned his palms up, side by side, and closed his eyes as he felt the small, heavy object she'd given him.
A snowglobe. He'd never had one, because heck, they lived in Texas, and there wasn't any snow. But he'd admired the collection that Mrs. Street had in her library, especially the ones with real glass globes.
This one was the plastic kind with a big flat base. It had a school bus parked in front of a ginger bread school house.
He turned it over, looking at the back, and then shook it hard, watching the fat flakes nestle at the bottom. He laughed and did it again and again.
"I want to take you away to a place that has snow like that, Timmy," she said softly. "Montana. Where I have some cousins. I think we could have a real nice life up there…" she trailed off.
His parents fought non-stop. His dad had left for several months, but returned. Tim hadn't even missed him, in fact, it was peaceful without him, and he had more of his mom's attention.
She wasn't the greatest mom, but his dad was a difficult man. He had a terrible mean streak. Tim felt like his dad resented him for just being born. Whenever they competed at something, his dad would do anything to win, and then brag about it forever.
And he knew his mom worked hard and was doing the best she could to raise her family. It just wasn't easy. And she'd been a young mom, having Billy in her teens. Then Tim had been an accidental baby, coming when Billy was already nine.
She'd threatened to leave his dad before, but never mentioned where she might go.
Tim had heard of Montana, and pictured beautiful mountains and buffalo. It sounded good to him although he didn't mind Texas too much.
She hugged him by the shoulder and kissed his head. "Now c'mon, let's go scare up some dinner," she said, unlocking the front door. She fixed macaroni and cheese and the two of them ate dinner in peace, the snowglobe set between them.
-/-/-/-
That was the month before his dad hauled off and hit her badly after she came home tipsy late one night after a long happy hour. She didn't even say goodbye, just drove away and never came back.
He'd actually run into her in a sporting goods store a few towns away a couple years ago, when he was going fishing with Street. She'd been with her daughter, Tim's stepsister Melissa, and had urged Tim to call her. He still had the matchbook that she'd given the clerk to give him after he'd walked away hastily. (fic here: XOX Mom)
All Tim had now to remember her by was the snowglobe and the matchbook.
Looking at the snowglobe, recalling how he thought she'd really loved him when they'd sat on the stoop together, for the first time in a long time he thought he might call her, now that he felt like he had his act together.
The shop phone rang. It was Billy with the news that Mindy was in labor.
He set the snowglobe on his workbench, said goodbye to Becky, and loaded Skeeter into his truck. The call to his mom could wait another day when, hopefully, he could tell her she was now a grandmother.
Note: these characters are not mine.