Dinosaurs
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Mike and Christine Slattery attempt to pick out a picture for their holiday card. AU; Worthy Man Universe. Written for the 2021 TLS Holiday Fest. Installment 3 of the Holiday Card Series.
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Mike stood, arms crossed, gazing at the selection of photographs scattered across the table in front of him. They were all beautiful. Each pictured Mike, Christine, Whitney, Shaylyn, and eighteen-month-old Kaito wearing carefully coordinated outfits arranged artfully in front of a small pond with the St. Louis Gateway Arch just visible in the background. Although, if he squinted, Mike could just make out the piles of goose shit that they had to pick through to get there. Mike spent the night after the photo session trying to scrap the crap off his shoes before deciding that burning them would be more cathartic.
"You have a great smile in this one," Christine pointed out. "But this is the best shot of the girls." When Mike didn't respond, she held up both photos and prompted, "Which one do you like best?"
"You pick," he told Christine. "You look amazing in all of them."
It was true. Christine, holding Kaito, stood in the middle of both photographs. Mike's arm was around her shoulders, and Whitney and Shaylyn stood flanking her. The pictures were perfect — with one critical flaw.
There was no Lucas.
Christine narrowed her eyes, before setting the photographs down and crossing her arms. "That's not going to work, Mike. You're avoiding the issue. Talk to me."
He shifted, awkward. "It just feels wrong."
"I know it's hard," Christine replied, hand coming to his arm. "It's hard for me too. But we can't live in the past, Mike. It's not fair to anyone."
"I know." And he did. He had gone through the same grief counseling sessions as Christine and met with the same adoption expert. Mike understood that it was important for there to be family pictures that included Kaito, to provide documented evidence that he was a full-fledged member of the family. Frankly, Mike hadn't needed a so-called expert to tell him something so obvious. And Mike got that it was equally important to keep up traditions for the girls, and not act as though time stopped the day that Lucas died. But that didn't make looking at those pictures any easier. Because this was just the first of many occasions that Lucas would miss — holiday cards, vacations, graduations, weddings. Life went on, even if there was a hole in Mike's heart that would never heal.
Mike swallowed, wrapping his arms around Christine. "I just miss him."
Christine leaned against Mike, cheek on his chest. "I know. I do too."
They stood in silence, both lost in memories of their first son. The way he came into the world screaming bloody murder, as though announcing that he was there and was not going to be ignored. The day he took his first step, lunging after the dog's tail. The time that he got into a box of camouflage paint and covered himself from head to toe. His fifth birthday, when Mike took him to that Jurassic Park exhibit, just the two of them because Whitney had a playoff game. Lucas talked about that trip for years and Mike wished that he had found time to go again.
Mike reached out, shuffling through the photos until one caught his eye. Last month Mike had been going through boxes from the house in Norfolk when he found one filled with Lucas's dinosaurs. Kaito immediately latched onto a small, orange stegosaurus and he refused to go anywhere without it. The dinosaur figured prominently in several of the pictures, hugged against Kaito's chest. The photographer had assured them that the dinosaur could be removed, but Christine apparently had decided not to take the woman up on the offer when she picked out the prints.
Mike smiled. "I like this one. The one where you can see Lucas's dinosaur."
"Me too." Christine smiled up at him, eyes misty. "It makes me feel like a piece of him is with us, even though he isn't."
Mike wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side. "We still have the rest of Lucas's dinosaurs in the garage. Maybe it's time for some new traditions. Like dinosaur ornaments."
"Dinosaur keychains," Christine replied, her voice cracking slightly.
"Dinosaur earrings," Mike added.
"Maybe not earrings," Christine replied. She sniffed, then she smiled. "But as for the cards, I think that we have a plan."