Christmas at his dad's really wasn't much different from the holidays he'd had with his mom. Billy spent both huddled beneath a pile of blankets on the couch watching the annual marathon of Christmas cartoons.
His dad was humming in the kitchen. The smell of coffee had long since settled over the entire apartment.
A commercial break started. Billy pulled the blankets back and hopped off the couch. Before running off, he gave Tawny one last squeeze before placing him down by his pillow. He'd gotten the stuffed tiger from the mall about two weeks prior as an early gift. By picking a heart and stepping on a stuffing machine, he'd gotten to help make the toy himself. Choosing the clothes had been the hardest part. For the longest time, he'd been debating between a doctor's lab coat with its plush stethoscope or a firefighter's uniform. In the end, he'd gone with something else entirely - a green checked suit with a large yellow tie that always appeared slightly crooked.
Billy slid across the kitchen in his socks, stopping close to the oven.
"Dad!"
"Morning, William." He looked down from the cabinet he was digging in. "How do strawberry pancakes sound this morning?"
"Really?" He grinned.
"I'll take that as a yes." He continued to take down bowls, pans, and ingredients.
Billy plopped into the chair opposite his dad's. Lying folded upright where his dad's plate usually sat was the newspaper. Leaning forward, Billy grabbed it and fished out the comics. It wasn't Sunday, but the Christmas edition was always in color.
"Hey, Dad?" Billy asked. Beneath him, Snoopy and Woodstock were busy looping a set of lights around a small tree.
"Yes?"
"Why don't we celebrate Christmas?"
He supposed the morning would feel more important if they did - bigger somehow.
"I already bought you some new toys." His dad didn't look at him as he spoke.
"It's not about that!" Though getting them had certainly been a relief. He didn't even want to imagine going back to school and listening to his classmates discuss everything they got and having nothing of his own to add. His mind turned to the giant tree and holly wreaths they'd driven by when passing through the city's downtown earlier that week. "Why can't we put up a tree? You know, with the lights and popcorn and ornaments-"
"I'm well aware of what a Christmas tree is." His dad was cutting up some strawberries. His fingers were stained pink. "We've already discussed this. Christmas is just a country wide marketing scam."
"Yeah, yeah." The Family Circle kids were all dumping out their stockings. "But we could just put up one tree. What's wrong with that?"
Judging by what his friends said, it was a little harder than it looked. First, the tree itself had to be dragged out of the basement or the attic and set up. Then lights had to be strung through it - that had never sounded too hard, but Brandon said half the of them were usually burnt out or broken. The real fun was in hanging the ornaments, and that could only start when everything else was finished.
"And it'd be really pretty."
His mom had never had a tree to put up, but sometimes she'd let him go over to their neighbor's apartments and look at what they had out. Billy supposed they'd never had a proper Christmas either - none of the big family events that his classmates were always going on about. Dinner was always macaroni with grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. That might have made for a special meal if they didn't eat them at least once a week already. The only presents he usually got were a candy bar and some new Hot Wheels.
Billy's stomach sank. Was his mom even celebrating this year? How could she while he was gone?
"I believe it's a little late for that."
His dad's voice shot Billy straight back to the present.
"Huh?"
"William, it's already Christmas. We'd be putting something up that we'd have to take down first thing tomorrow morning."
"Brandon says you leave it up until New Year's!"
He laughed. "Only lazy people do that!" His father was stirring batter now.
"That's not all people do for Christmas!"
But just what else did they do? Billy rubbed his chin. People sang songs. No, wait, his dad hated Christmas music. As soon as November hit, they only listened to CD's in the car because constantly changing radio stations was too much of a hassle. It wasn't as if they had anyone to go visit, either. They hadn't even gone to anyone's house for Thanksgiving that year.
Then it hit him.
"We could bake cookies!" Billy looked to his dad.
It wouldn't even be that Christmas-y. It wasn't as though they had candy cane and snowflake shaped cookie cutters tucked into a drawer somewhere. But hey, cookies were cookies.
"Well..."
"Dad! Please?"
"I don't want to say no, but we might not have the ingredients."
Billy's shoulders slumped. He stood, pushing in his chair.
"I'm gonna go watch TV."
"It's almost done."
He didn't reply. When he got back to the couch, the commercials were over but an entirely new cartoon had started. Billy only half paid attention to it.
"William? Breakfast's ready!"
Billy shut off the TV and hurried back to the kitchen. His father was already sitting down, a bottle of syrup in hand. He held it out.
"Be honest with me," he said as Billy's fingers brushed against his. "Are you worried again about our family being weird?"
Billy kept his eyes on his plate.
"That's why you asked, isn't it?"
"No." He bit his lower lip. "Maybe."
He'd never considered his family strange until some of the kids in his class had started asking about it. His dad? Well, Billy had always found him a little odd, but that was just who he was.
"I'm not trying to be unsympathetic. It has to be strange, and I'd understand if you were jealous of your classmates. But..." He shrugged. "Sometimes people are going to think you're weird and you're just going to have to learn to live with it."
"So no cookies?"
"I hope you didn't have your heart set on them." His dad yawned, scratching at his eye.
Billy took a bite of his pancakes. It figured.
"I wouldn't have a present for you."
"Excuse me?"
"You know, even if we did something for Christmas, I wouldn't be able to give you anything, Dad."
"Don't feel bad about that." He straightened his glasses. "Look, we can bake cookies later this week once we've had a chance to go to the grocery. Snickerdoodle or chocolate chip?"
"Snickerdoodles!"
He winked. "I was hoping you'd say that. And if you're still wanting to do something today, I did find a box of brownie mix in the cabinet."
"Can I lick the spoon this time?"
His dad wrinkled his nose. "No! I've told you before, we let other people get Salmonella."
