2001
"Mom, I swear, it is the absolute most amazing school environment," Lena gushed about her job at Anchor Beach. The school had only been around for three years. Sure, there were growing pains, but the entire concept of the charter school had both intrigued and challenged Lena's very concept of education.
Dana smiled to herself as she diced sweet potatoes, "I'm so happy for you, dear. You're lucky to have found a place you are so in love with so quickly." She set the casserole dish on the island and reached to preheat the oven. "The pictures from the website are stunning," Dana slid past Lena as she got the milk from the refrigerator.
"Personally, I think they're lucky to have found such a qualified applicant," Stewart refilled his coffee.
"I can't agree more," Dana agreed adding a splash of milk in her husband's cup.
Lena rolled her eyes in mock exacerbation, "it's not like they handed me the keys." Dipping her finger into the batter, she glanced at her parents, "yet." Happy with the consistency of the pancake mixture, Lena put it in the refrigerator, "seriously, you two, get a room."
Dana tossed her the dish towel, "it's Christmas, honey. Misletoe, eggnog, plus look at this bracelet your father surprised me with." She smiled as Stewart kissed her cheek.
"You two make it look effortless," Lena sighed.
Stewart began to walk from the kitchen, "it's not effortless by any means." He caught himself, feeling Dana's glare, "of course, your mother makes it almost effortless." Turning back around he pointed the paper he held at Lena, "the secret is 'yes, dear,' 'of course you're right, what was I thinking,' and 'obviously, I married up.' Those three phrases will get you through anything." He grinned at Dana whose eye roll Lena had inherited.
"Your father's a comedian now," Dana finally returned his smile. "I'll admit, he's mostly right. You, however, may want to find someone willing to say those things to you. Not criticizing your self-confidence but imaging those coming from you," Dana trailed off giving Lena a side glance.
"Please, mom," Lena crossed her arms, "I'm the queen of humility and platitudes."
Dana raised her eyebrows, "really?"
"What your mother means is marrying up will be difficult for you. You'll find that someone," Stewart said sitting in the living room. "And when you do the mantle will finally be balanced. Two on the left, two on the right," he motioned to the stockings.
"He's right," Dana agreed. She turned put the sweet potatoes in the oven before switching the beeping off and resetting the timer, "don't settle, though, dear." She handed Lena the peeled pineapple to chop, "that someone is a remarkable woman. Don't settle for white gold when you can have platinum." Dana held up her wrist as an example.
"Words to live by," Lena mumbled as she carefully began the pineapple.
Stef put the suitcase by the door. She took the cardboard box "Santa" had delivered Brandon's Power Pop-Up T Ball set. Dropping it beside the sofa, she knelt and picked up the gifts she, Mike, and Brandon were taking to her mother's house. Sharon moved to Riverside in April after accepting a job at Mission Inn. As a historical preservationist dream jobs were a luxury. It was a nichey profession, but Sharon's joy for the field and particularly this hotel endeared Stef.
She and Brandon made the two hour trip almost a month ago for the kick off of the hotel's Christmas light celebration. The hotel's décor stretched nearly a block. Allegedly the display ranked in the top five nationwide. Mike had been on duty that weekend. Stef had enjoyed the two night respite. She wasn't as lucky this go round. Stef sighed as she reached for the three gifts behind the couch. They were tucked away Sharon would have the opportunity to see Brandon's face when he learned Santa visited grandparents too. Glancing at the clock, then her sleeping son, Stef set the box beside the suitcase. She and Brandon would be riding with Mike to Sharon's, but since he worked Thursday and Friday, Sharon would drive them to San Diego Sunday morning.
Mike worked the graveyard shift. He just walked through the door as Brandon burst into Stef's bedroom. After seeing Brandon's excitement over Santa and the gifts he'd received, Mike crashed. He startled awake as Stef shook his shoulder, "hey," he sleepily rubbed his eyes.
"Come on, Mike," Stef impatiently crossed her arms. "Mom wants to eat around four. Go shower," she picked up the travel clock from her side table.
Slowly, Mike eased from the blankets. "What time is it?"
"Time to get your ass in gear," Stef answered. She paused as she headed toward the door. It was Christmas and Mike had been genuinely excited while Brandon opened his gifts. Stef decided she could be tolerant, "otherwise known as 10:47," she looked at the clock.
Mike waved her off as he grabbed his towel, "I'm going," he mumbled.
Stef went back downstairs putting the clock in the front of the suitcase. She then sat on the edge of the couch watching Brandon sleep until she heard the shower stop. "Hey, Sweetie, time to get up," she rubbed Brandon's back. He mumbled like Mike had. "Come on buddy, we need to see what Santa left at Grandma's," Stef laid down new jeans and sweatshirt.
Santa was instant motivation for Brandon, "do you really think he found her house?"
Nodding Stef went into the kitchen, "of course," she called. "I bet he's been there before."
"So, he's like an elephant?" Brandon questioned pulling on his sweatshirt.
"Yeah," Stef furrowed her brow trying to understand her son's logic.
Leaving his pajamas in a pile, Bradon took the cup of juice from his mom, "that's a big memory."
Stef smiled running a wettened comb over Brandon's head, "it sure is, buddy." She heard Mike coming down the stairs, "put your razor in the front pocket, Mike." Handing him a cup of coffee, Stef picked up Brandon's pajamas and packed them. "Where are the candy canes I asked you to pick up last night?" She asked Mike.
Mike closed his eyes as he pulled on a sock, " I'm sorry, Stef. We got slammed and Mitchell was-" he stopped when he saw Stef's face.
Stef was clearly annoyed. "Don't worry, I knew to expect it. I grabbed some," she revealed.
"Really?" Mike echoed the her frustration. "If you all ready had them, why all the voicemails and ten questions?"
"Twenty," Stef corrected tossing his shoes to him.
Mike looked up, confused. "Huh?"
Stef bent down and tied Brandon's shoes, "twenty. Twenty questions, not ten." She patted Brandon's thigh groaning as she stood, "the game is Twenty Questions."
"Fine," Mike didn't want to argue. "You ready to roll, buddy?" He asked Brandon. Brandon nodded, "good deal. I hope Grandma left plenty of milk for Santa."
Brandon agreed, "and water for Rudolph." He smiled at Mike. "I bet he and Prancer were panting like Sam when he plays fetch with me," he said solemnly
"You know it. Ready my boys?"Stef leaned on the door jam. "Your sleigh awaits my little elf," she held out the keys for Mike.
"Wonderful pancakes," Stewart added another one to his empty plate. Lena smiled across the table. "Almost as good as your mom's. Watch out, Dana, tastes like Lena is going to give you a run for your money," he took a bite.
"Perhaps," Dana drank some wine, " but like any reproduction, it will never be the original." She took a serving of fruit salad, "they are good, though, dear."
Lena smiled at her parents. After getting in so late last night, she felt herself relaxing for the first time in nearly a year. A lot had changed since last year's Christmas brunch. She pushed the sweet potatoes around her plate.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Stewart touched Lena's arm. Shaking her head, Lena focused back to the table. "Gretchen?" He probed a bit further.
Giving her father a half shrug, Lena finally nodded, "yeah." She pressed her lips together. Even though she and Gretchen had broken up over eighteen months ago, it had been only three months since Lena had been thrown into the most difficult four nights of her life. The images of airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center flashed over in her mind.
Dana watched sensing Lena's private slideshow, "she was welcome. I called her about a week ago."
"She told me," Lena acknowledged. "Thanks for making the effort," she took a drink of water. "You know Gretchen, though. Even after the horrific Fall, she's not willing to commit to Christmas brunch," Lena rubbed her tense shoulders. "Let alone a relationship," she added. Lena had caught the first flight possible from Los Angelas to New York in the days following September 11. She'd compulsively dialed Gretchen's number over 300 times. Busy circuits, voicemails, it was impossible. Despite semi frequent trips through Newark while dating, it felt almost like traveling in the Middle East in that first week post September11. Every ten yards it seemed soldiers patrolled with assault rifles.
Dana made eye contact with Stewart, "anytime, Honey." She took another drink of wine, "she's an important part of your story."
Stewart nodded, "any part of your story is part of ours."
"Thanks," Lena said quietly. "I was more enamored with the mystique of Gretchen rather than Gretchen the woman," she admitted. " I stumbled into the lobby like a crazy woman, thankfully Carlos was on duty. He remembered me from back in the day. He told me Gretchen was safe, but I had to see her myself. I pounded on her door for over five minutes. When she finally came to the door, she acted as if she had not a care in the world. I'm a pacifist but that went out the window for a minute," she gave a tired smile. "Anyway, enough bad memories. Here's to great parents and an amazing job," Lena raised her glass.
"Cheers," Stewart clinked her glass. "So, admissions for a ritzy charter," he trailed off.
Lena rolled her eyes, "it's a far cry from John Burroughs, but it's not all that ritzy. Over forty percent of our students are free or reduced lunch." She looked at Dana, "they tend to promote within. Rumor mill is Govenor Davis is going to go federal." Lena shrugged, "I can't see it with a Republican President but stranger things have happened. If he goes, Dr. Johnson is going to shoot for Secretary of Ed. My vice president, Karina is likely to get the job. That'll leave a vacancy." Lena smiled, "I think I have a legitimate shot."
"That's great, honey," Dana nodded. "Your father and I talk often of our relief for this environment. We know you learned a lot at JB, but not a day passed we weren't nervous," she admitted.
Stewart backed his wife, "I was kidding about the ritzy. Anchor Beach's social agenda is ambitious." He pushed his plate back and dipped a bowl of fruit, "it really is a perfect fit for you." He stabbed a piece of cantaloupe, "hopefully in a few years we will be able to see you more than two days at Thanksgiving and three at Christmas. Don't get married to your job."
"I won't, Dad," Lena promised. "We had a really great holiday program Thursday. It's a tradition. All the kids wear super dressy clothes. Ties and dresses. Clubs, classes, and even staff perform and serve a special lunch," Lena scooped the last of her potatoes. "It's more a learning community than school. I did a large project on the concept. It's rare for it to actually work. Teacher and admins dedication to the mission seems to be paramount," Lena shrugged, "Anchor Beach's seem to be all in."
Brandon had fallen asleep in the car seat 30 minutes into the trip. His early morning breakfast of chocolate Santa, candy canes, and homemade peanut butter balls kept him rolling but when he'd crashed, he crashed hard.
Mike and Stef shared minimal conversation. Stef watched as they sped toward Riverside. There'd been far too much yelling and hurtful words thrown between she and Mike the last six months. She could be field level at the Murph during a wild card match up and the atmosphere in the car would still deafen her. Feelings were funky. The only possible way for her to feel any better would be talking to Mike. The resentment, loneliness, disappointment and anger she harbored prevented her from approaching him.
Mike in her estimation had or was becoming an alcoholic. Until he sought treatment for that any communicating Stef tried would be a waste. Mike didn't see it. Often the only way to begin facing the really hard things in life began with almost impossible conversations.
"Stef," Mike's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I asked if you were planning on going to Vanessa's New Year bash."
Stef opened her eyes really wide, then squeezed them shut, "sorry. Didn't hear you." Mike audibly sighed. "I don't think I'll be available that evening. We discussed this," she trails off.
"Duly noted," Mike said. "We did talk about it. That was when I was sure dad wouldn't be there. I know how you feel about him. You never gave me a solid answer. Now I can let Van know Foster party of 1."
"Yeah," Stef began, "sorry about that. It's just bad timing. Maybe next year."
Mike shrugged, "or the next or next. You've said maybe next year for seven years now. Do whatever you want, Stef.
"OK," she mumbled turning her body more towards the window. She heard Mike sigh, again.
They continued to drive in silence. Mike pulled into a service station for gas on the outskirts of Riverside. Much to Stef's dismay he carried two 6-packs of beer and some sort of liquor in a plastic bag.
"Planning on a dry county?" She asked curtly.
Mike set the drinks on the floor at Brandon's feet. "You never know," he replied slipping in the driver's seat. "Never know."
Lena, Dana, and Stewart were sitting in the television room watching A Christmas Story. Lena had grown up with it. Christmas brunch had been served, dishes clean and put away. Gifts too were unwrapped. This was Lena's favorite time of Christmas. Sitting on the sofa, her legs draped across Dana's with a warm cup of hot chocolate. Lena wondered in that moment if life could be better than right now. A lot of people turned to religion or artificial means to find peace. Lena respected that, but she didn't need it. Having the opportunity to be with her mother and father was Lena's nirvana. That was her last thought before melting deeper into the couch and falling asleep.
Stef and Mike were halfway through dinner at Sharon's. After Mike's alcohol run, the all ready strained car became unbearable. Stef fished her sunglasses from the console to hide the tears. Mike may be clueless, but he wasn't naïve. He knew his wife was barely hanging on. The lump inhis throat made it hard to swallow. Gritting his teeth, Mike glanced at Stef who was staring out the window. He finally pulled into the driveway at Sharon's. Without a word, Stef got out of the car, unbuckled Brandon and left Mike in the driver's seat.
"Stefanie," Sharon came to the stoop. A warm smile welcomed the family, "I'm so glad you made it. And there is my handsome boy," Brandon ran up the walk into Sharon's arms. "You are getting so big."
Brandon giggled, "did he come?"
Sharon faked her answer, "who?" She looked at Stef over Brandon's head, "did you invite a guest I'm not aware of?" Stef shrugged. "Hhmm," Sharon set Brandon down, "tell me about this he you speak of."
"Santa," Brandon was wiggling from excitement. "Santa Clause from the North Pole," he ducked behind Sharon and ran into the house.
A few seconds later there was a shriek. Stef walked to her mom, "I guess he made it."
Draping an arm over Stef, Sharon pulled her close. She was concerned. Stef was pale and looked like she'd lost weight. She glanced toward the vehicle. Mike was just sitting there, staring blankly at something. "You OK?" Sharon whispered.
"No," Stef shook her head. "Not now, though, OK?"
Sharon nodded, "of course." She followed Stef into the house, "is Mike coming in?"
Stef pursed her lips and shrugged, "who knows. He may have been waiting until we came in so he could load up on some ETOH." She ran her hand through her hair, "oh well." Peeking around the corner she grinned at a statuesque Brandon, "have at it son." She reached for her mother's hand leading her to the couch. They watched with joy as Brandon celebrated gifts for the second time. He opened up a toy police set which was quickly discarded.
"I thought you'd like that," Sharon quizzically looked at Brandon. "Figured most boys at one point want to be an officer. Plus, you could put ypur gear on and be like your daddy," she pointed out.
Brandon looked up solemnly, "that's OK. I'd rather be a chef like mommy."
Stef snorted. Despite the accuracy of Brandon's statement, the honesty hit her in a place only he could touch. For the first time she let herself feel the pain. Clearing her throat, Stef swallowed hard, trying to force the tears away. It was in that instant she knew the answer to the question she didn't even have the courage to ask. Looking at the wall of family pictures, she silently said there'd never be another Mike, Stef, and Brandon. A mix of relief and profound sadness overtook her. The tears fell freely.
"It'll work out," Sharon pulled her daughter into her shoulder. "I promise, you'll figure it out. For today, let's try and celebrate, yes?" Stef nodded and wiped her face. "All right, you two. I have potatoes to mash. Why don't you clean up the paper?" With that, Sharon went into the kitchen.
.
