AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi all, thank you for all the kind comments and messages you've sent. This has been hard for me, when I am a passenger in a car, I spend the whole time in a state of anxiety, and I've driven a short distance twice and almost had a panic attack, and cried, after. But I've adjusted my medication and am having therapy more often, to help me out. PTSD cannot be "cured" and it will never go away, but I can, and will, be able to manage it better in the future. I know I can get through this and come out on top, but it's rough right now. Knowing I have so many people in my corner is helpful and I am so grateful for all of you who read and share and comment on my stories. I'm hoping to have one more chapter out before Christmas, so I wanted to get this published. Writing is going slowly, but it's going! Thanks for being patient with me, and Always Keep Fighting! XXXOOO
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Over the next few days we fell into a routine. I did school-work in the morning, then we ate lunch, I did more work, and then that was it for the day. Uncle Sam tried to include things we did around the house as part of our work- he had me sit down with him and plan out meals for the week, and then we went grocery shopping and he had me write down how much everything cost and keep track of it. Then when we got home we tried to figure out how much each meal cost for each person according to how much money we had spent. He said it was part of the math curriculum, but I didn't mind. It was fun to go to the store with him and be able to pick things off the shelf.
I had chores too, I had to make my bed every morning, make sure I put my dirty clothes in the hamper, put away my toys every night, and set the table before meals. Then after the table was cleared I had to wipe the table off and then sweep the kitchen floor. I also got to help Uncle Sam with making dinner sometimes and he taught me how to use a knife so I could cut up things like cucumbers, but either he or Grandpa John sat right next to me and watched me the whole time.
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We had just finished lunch when the doorbell rang. Uncle Sam went to the door, and I heard him talking to someone.
"Charlie!" he called to me.
Curious, I walked into the living room. There was a young girl on the porch, with dark reddish-brown hair. She said, "Hi, I'm Macy, wanna come draw with us? We're drawin' with chalk on the sidewalk. We live, uh, a coupla houses up from you," she turned and pointed to the side.
I looked up at Uncle Sam. "Um-"
"Sure, would you like to?" he asked, smiling at me.
"Uh, okay," I said.
"It's not too cold out, but I still want you to wear your coat," he told me. I put my coat on, and then I saw him shrugging into a jacket as well.
"I'll come with you, and see if there's any parents I can meet. It would be good to meet some neighbors," he said.
Macy turned to look at me. "What's your name?"
"Uh, Charlie," I said, feeling shy.
Their house was three houses down from ours. There was a woman with red hair on the front porch, holding a wreath.
"Mommy!" Macy called, "This is our new friend Charlie!"
The woman set the wreath down and came over to us. "Hi Charlie, I'm Stella, and that's Cara." Cara was a little girl who was sitting on the sidewalk scribbing with a piece of chalk.
Uncle Sam followed behind us. "Hi, I'm Sam," he held his hand out to Stella and they shook.
"So, you just moved in? Where are you from originally?" Stella looked at him with curiousity.
"Oh, we, uh, move around a lot," Uncle Sam said, "We were in Kansas for a while. Decided it was time for a change."
"I see," she looked at me, "So, Charlie, what grade are you in?"
"Um, I'm in third," I felt myself start to blush, and I glanced up at Uncle Sam.
"I home-school her," Uncle Sam said smoothly.
Stella nodded. "I know some other families that do that."
"I'm in pre-school an' I'm gonna go to kindy-garden nex' year!" Macy exclaimed.
"May-May, daw!" Cara stood up and toddled over to us, handing Macy a piece of chalk. She looked at me, and then up at Uncle Sam, and her mouth dropped open. She hurried over and ducked behind Stella, and then peered around her legs.
"Mommy, who dat big guy?" she asked in a whisper.
Uncle Sam leaned down a little and smiled at Cara. "My name is Sam."
Cara hid her face in the backs of her mom's knees, and Stella and Uncle Sam laughed.
"Well, I'll let you get back to decorating," Uncle Sam stood back up, and walked back towards our house.
"Cara, this is Charlie," Macy said, "C'mon, let's draw."
I followed Macy over to the pile of chalk and we sat down and began to draw together. In a moment, Cara moved away from her mom and came over to us.
Stella said to me, "So, he stays home and takes care of you while your mother works?"
"No, my Daddy works. He's my Uncle Sam."
She nodded. "Oh! That's... nice. Macy has a friend in her class that has two Dads."
I looked at her, confused. "Uncle Sam isn't my Daddy, he's my Uncle!"
"Oh, I see, you have a Dad and then you call him...Uncle?"
"He's my Daddy's brother, he really is my uncle!" I didn't understand why she was so confused.
She frowned slightly "Oh...well, uh, where's your mother?"
"She, um, she passed away," I looked down at the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Stella said apologetically, "That must have been- I didn't mean-" she stopped and sighed, "It's nice that your Uncle is helping your Dad raise you."
"And my Grandpa John lives with us too," I said, and then I remembered Missouri telling me not to give people more information than they need.
"Your grandfather too? So you've got three generations living together, it's nice to have a multi-generational house-hold."
"Yeah, I guess," I said, and she chuckled.
Macy chattered almost non-stop, she said there were other kids that lived on the street, further up, but that they didn't play with her because they were older and went to "big kid's school". She told me about the kids in her class and the projects that she did- it made me kinda miss going to school and doing stuff like art class.
After her Mom hung three wreaths on the front windows of their house, she came over to us. "It's time for us to go inside now," she said, bending down.
"No, Mommy, I daw," Cara said.
"It's resting time, so we need to go inside. Macy, clean up the chalk, please." Stella said. Cara started to fuss and whine, and Macy looked at me and rolled her eyes.
"It's n-a-p time for Cara an' she hates it," she told me in a loud whisper, "I gotta go in an' have quiet time in my room."
I helped her put the chalk pieces into the little plastic carrying case, and then we stood up.
"Thanks for letting me color," I said.
"Thanks for coloring wif me, we gotta play sometime!" Macy said. Stella was carrying Cara, who was now crying, into the house. I turned and walked back to our house and went inside.
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"Macy's Mommy said something funny," I told them at dinner, "She thought that Uncle Sam was my Daddy too, and that I just called him Uncle! She said that Macy has a friend in her class with two Dads!"
Daddy choked on his beer, and pounded his chest. His face got red as he coughed.
"Are you okay, Daddy?" I asked. He nodded. "She didn't get it at first until I told her that Uncle Sam really was your brother! What's that about?"
Daddy looked across the table at Uncle Sam. "Uh, well-"
Uncle Sam cleared his throat. "Well, Charlie, sometimes a man and a woman fall in love and are in a relationship, and sometimes it can be a man and another man, or a woman and anoth-"
"Oh, you mean gay? Eric and Noah were together, they lived in our building for a while, Mommy said that they had been married longer than most people she knew, for 23 years! They used to have people over for drinks on Friday nights and I would go with Mommy, and Eric would always give me cookies and juice and let me watch t.v. in their room. They were real nice but they had to move away," I told them.
Daddy and Uncle Sam and Grandpa John all looked at each other, and then they started to laugh.
"What?" I asked, looking around at them.
Daddy shook his head. "Charlie, I just—you know a lot more about the world than most kids your age...you constantly surprise me with the things you know about!" He leaned over and ruffled my hair.
Then it dawned on me. "Do you think...that Macy's Mom thought that you and Uncle Sam are gay?" I gasped.
Daddy looked at Uncle Sam and they chuckled. Daddy shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time someone has thought that."
"It wouldn't?" I asked.
"No, I guess, people see a handsome guy with another guy and they assume that they must be a couple," Daddy said.
"A handsome guy and another guy? Who would you be talking about, Dean?" Grandpa John said.
"Well, of course, I'm the handsome guy," Daddy said confidently.
Uncle Sam shook his head and chuckled. "Sure, Dean, whatever."
"Hey, I'm just speaking the truth," Daddy said.
"How did I ever get such a modest son?" Grandpa John joked, and Uncle Sam balled up his napkin and threw it at Daddy.
After we finished eating, Grandpa John loaded the dishwasher and Daddy made coffee. Grandpa John handed me a damp paper towel and I wiped the table off. Then after they left I got the broom out and swept the floor, and cleaned up the crumbs with the dustpan.
They were all sitting in the living room with coffee when I came into the room, and I went to sit next to Daddy. He put his arm around me and I snuggled into his side. We had after dinner snuggles now instead of morning snuggles like we had been doing, because Daddy didn't have time in the morning. We watched a Christmas cartoon about Frosty the Snowman, and then a Christmas-themed cooking show. When the show was over, Daddy told me to get ready for bed. I went upstairs and did my night-time routine, and then called down to them that I was ready. All three of them came up to say good night to me. Daddy sat down on the edge of the bed after Uncle Sam and Grandpa John had hugged and kissed me, and then left.
I remembered last year, when I had been taking care of my mom, and there had been holiday stuff going on at school, and how excited I'd get, but then when I got home there would be nothing except sheets to wash and microwaved meals for me.
I threw my arms around Daddy and buried my face in his shirt.
"What's wrong?" he asked, putting his hand on my back.
"N-nothing...I mean, I was just thinking of last year, an' how...it's so different now." I whispered, feeling my throat get tight. I didn't want to cry right now!
"Well, that's not nothing," Daddy looked down at me and hugged me. "I know it was...you had it rough, with your mom, and all...I know it's sad that she's gone, and you miss her, but...I'm glad that you're with me now. That we're all together."
"Me too," I said, and tears came to my eyes. I swiped my hand across my face and sniffled. "I don't wanna cry, is this always gonna happen?" I asked frustratedly.
"No, it won't. It's okay, though, it's been less than a year since—since your mom—and it's your first Christmas without-" he cleared his throat, "In a different situation."
He stroked my hair back from my face. "It's okay to cry and feel sad, you know."
"I guess...I just don't want to!" I frowned.
Daddy chuckled. "Well if it happens, let it happen, okay? Don't try and keep it inside."
"Okay, Daddy," I hugged him tighter, and he squeezed me back. "Will you stay here with me for a little?"
"Sure," he said, and he moved so that his back was propped against the headboard. I curled up against his side and he put his arm around me. I liked that they all came to say good night to me, and I liked that Daddy would stay with me while I fell asleep. It hadd been hard to get used to being in my own room at night, knowing that I was on a different floor of the house than all of them. Daddy had gotten little lights to put in the hallways leading downstairs and I kept my bedroom door open as I was falling asleep, and that helped me feel not so alone.
Daddy had gotten multi-colored Christmas lights for the upstairs rooms, and I had lights around my windows now. It made my room a little brighter, but I didn't mind it, because I liked looking at the lights. I fell asleep watching the lights and feeling Daddy carding his hand through my hair.
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It wasn't fair. Everyone was grumpy. Daddy was tired when he got home from work, and didn't want to do much. Grandpa John was restless, and spent a lot of time either on Uncle Sam's computer or going to the library to do research. He was short-tempered and snappy. Uncle Sam was trying to "keep the house running" with preparing meals and making sure I did my school work and keeping up with chores and all, and he was always busy. We were supposed to be feeling happy and relaxed about Christmas, but it seemed like no-one was. Every time I mentioned something, like baking cookies, or going out to look at lights, or shopping, I was told, "We'll do it later."
When Uncle Sam called me down for dinner on Friday, Grandpa John was showing Daddy something on the laptop, in the living room.
"I've put this pattern together, and I've figured out what it is," he was saying, "We need to go out tomorrow and get some sage, and some mugwort, and then we can take care of it."
"Tomorrow?" I said, looking back and forth between Daddy and Grandpa John. "But- we were gonna walk over to that playground that's a couple streets over, and then drive around looking at Christmas lights in the evening!"
"Well...Dad..." Daddy looked uncertain.
"Dean, time is of the essence here," Grandpa John said in a tense voice.
"Why do you always gotta be doing a hunt?" I yelled, suddenly frustrated.
Grandpa John got angry. "Excuse me, young lady? You will not raise your voice to me. And last time I checked, you weren't part of this conversation," he was frowning.
"But it's not-"
He interrupted me. "And there are more important things going on right now than looking at Christmas lights and playgrounds!"
That hurt my feelings, but I got mad instead of crying. "You're just a—a big meany! All you care about is doing research and hunting, and nothing else!" I stomped my foot.
Grandpa John turned to face me and put his hands on his hips, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "You want to watch your attitude, little girl," he growled, "You're headed for a trip over my knee if you keep it up!"
I glared up at him. "Let's just forget about Christmas then, and all of you can just keep hunting forever and ever! I'm sure that would make you happy, and then you'd stop being a grumpy-pants all the time!" I burst into tears and turned, to run up to my room, but in two quick strides Grandpa John was right next to me, and he took my arm and turned me-
"DAD!" both Daddy and Uncle Sam yelled at the same time.
Grandpa John dropped my arm, and Daddy came over and put his arms around me.
I buried my head in Daddy's side and continued to cry.
"Dad, I'm not hunting with you, I told you that," Daddy said flatly.
"And I thought we'd talked about just getting used to living this life for a while," Uncle Sam said.
"Dammit, I don't want to do this!" Grandpa John said with frustration, "I—I don't know how to do this, I'm used to hunting, that's what I've been doing for damn near three decades, and I can't just- sit back and relax!"
"Well, you're going to have to, or else start going out on your own," Daddy told him, "I meant what I said, I'm taking a break from that life for now. Look... you got him, Dad, you got the 'Big Bad' that you'd been after for all those years, can't you just celebrate that for now, and enjoy the fact that you don't have to spend all your waking hours looking for him any more? You got your revenge...it's time to just enjoy things for a while."
I heard Grandpa John exhale a big breath.
"We've got a house now, a nice house for once, and we're all here together, and you've got your kids and your grand-daughter here with you...can't you enjoy that?" Uncle Sam's voice was gentle.
Grandpa John said, "Sammy..." and he sounded upset.
"This is a big change for all of us. And you can't keep on going like you've been going and being stubborn about it and insisting that we all go along with you."
"You're right...I'm sorry, Dean," Grandpa John said, low.
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Daddy said sternly.
I heard Grandpa John sigh again, and then he crouched down in front of me. "Charlie...look at me, sweetheart," he said gently, and I turned my head to him. "This is not something I'm used to...and your Dad's right, I'm just a stubborn old coot who's set in his ways...I need to change...and I'll work on that from now on. I'm sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to be so harsh before. Come here," he reached for me, and I went to him, and he hugged me. "I've never done a lot of this...family stuff...before, so it's new to me too...can you be patient with me while I try to get used to it?"
I put my arms around him. "Yeah," I said faintly.
He kissed the side of my head. "I'm sorry I've been so grumpy with you, darlin'."
"We need to find some other things for you to do, Dad," Uncle Sam said, "How do you feel about golf? I saw that there were flyers for Bridge and Mah-Jongg over at the library."
Grandpa John let me go and stood up. "You can wipe that smirk off your face, Sam, I'm not doing any of that old-man stuff just yet. I'll find something to do with myself. Let's go eat, and then we can make plans for this weekend."