Cutest Kid

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Written by Annie Lisenby Smith

‘ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS’

The duffel bag weighed heavy on Amanda’s shoulder, pressing into her skin hard enough that she knew there’d be a small bruise. She shifted it again as she locked her apartment door and trod to her tiny, compact car in the parking lot.

“Don’t fail me now,” Amanda said talking to her car as she turned the key and waited for the ignition to catch. When a rumble filled the car, Amanda smiled and patted the dashboard. This car had been with her for years, since she first learned to drive. She was always surprised each time it started.

Pulling into traffic, Amanda turned on the wiper blades and the radio.

“A surprise snow for Christmas Eve!” Squealed the DJ. “But don’t worry, folks, this little bit of snow shouldn’t interfere with Santa’s deliveries.”

With heat sputtering through the vents, Amanda glanced at the duffel bag in the front seat. It was her delivery. Every Christmas. She wasn’t Santa, but she’d made a promise the last time she saw her dad, and she’d keep it no matter the weather.

“Hey, Mom,” she said while swiping her phone to answer the call. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“So, you’re on the way already?” Amanda’s mom’s voice cracked.

“Yep, just left a bit ago and pulling onto the interstate now.”

“Drive safe, sweetie,” Amanda’s mom’s voice cracked again. She always did worry too much, she thought. “And call me when you get in. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Will do, mom. But I should hang up, there’s lots of traffic,” Amanda said as she was merging onto the interstate between two big rigs.

“Okay, I love you!” The phone went silent.

An hour down the road Amanda’s head was feeling heavier with each passing mile. But when I’ll be Home for Christmas played over the radio, she was quickly awake and turning up the music. This song always got her. It was her dad’s favorite. He sang it to her every year, even when he had to do it over the phone because he was away for work. There was an irony to it, because when he was working, he knew he’d never make it home for Christmas. But he sang it anyway because he loved it so much.

A stray tear slid down Amanda’s cheek. She grabbed a fast-food napkin to wipe it away. After so many years of this drive, she thought it would be easier by now. But the duffel bag felt heavier and the miles felt longer.

To keep her awake, she opened another bottle of Coke, one of the perks of her job at the bottling company. She’d been working there since she finished college five years before. The people were nice, and there was an endless supply of cheap sodas.

The last hour of the drive, Amanda was drumming her fingers to the music as the terrain changed from flat prairie to the curved and hilly Ozark roads. She slowed her car to exit on a familiar road. The snow had stopped, and as the DJ had said, it hadn’t interfered with any deliveries. But Amanda felt her foot lift and her car slow below the speed limit, prompting a honk from a farm truck behind her. This was the worst part, it always was. The turn onto the tree-lined lane and the Christmas decorations that welcomed visitors. Nothing had changed since the first time she’d driven this route 11 years before.

Like always, she turned left off of the lane and then right at the tall maple tree. She guided the car to the edge of the road and turned off the engine.

“Here we are again,” she said with a sigh. Cold air

overtook the warmth of the car with the engine not running. But Amanda still sat. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she could do it this time. But her dad had taught her to keep her promises, so she grabbed the duffel bag and stepped out of the car.

A cold breeze lifted her loose hair as Amanda walked in silence. It was fitting to be silent here, a place where even the birds rarely sang. Few sounds invaded the solitude and sadness of the gently rolling hills, covered with matching stones. All Amanda heard was the crunch of leaves under her feet.

But even amidst the solemnity, Amanda smiled when she saw him. “Hey, dad,” she said setting down the duffel bag. “It’s been a while. There’s so much to catch up on.”

Opening the bag, Amanda pulled out a boom box, her old one that worked on batteries, and hit play. “You know, I could just play the music on my phone now, but I like the nostalgia,” she said laying out a wool blanket on the snow-dusted leaves. Christmas music rang from the speakers, low and sweet Bing Crosby at his best.

“So, to start off, the boring stuff,” Amanda said sitting on the blanket. “I brought you a cherry Coke from work. My friend Denise got a promotion, so I have a new lady working across from me, but she’s really nice. Let’s see, Kevin said to say hello. He wanted to come, but he knows how much I like our time alone on Christmas Eve.

“And here’s something from Aunt Michelle, another fruit cake. Every year she says that you love them. I guess you must. At least, you’ve never told me otherwise. And I have a picture for you,” Amanda said taking an envelope from the duffel bag. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but thought it’d be best in person.”

Opening the envelope, Amanda carefully took out a black and white photo and held it in front of her chest. “You’re going to be a grandpa,” Amanda choked back tears. “In June, the best month. We’ve always agreed on that. And I can’t wait for you to see this baby. Next year, I promise to bring him or her with me so she can get to know you better. That’s important.”

Amanda breathed in a shaky breath as tiny snowflakes began to drift from the heavens. “Dad I wish I could hug you,” she said letting tears flow. As hard as the drive was, this was the absolute worst. Every Christmas Eve coming to see her dad and running her fingers over his name carved in stone. Trailing them over the dates that marked his birth and the day that a roadside bomb went off on the other side of the world. The day her dad’s Army truck was attacked. But she still did it every year. It had been her promise on their last phone call.

“I’m sorry I can’t be home for Christmas this year, princess,” he’d said over the phone from a world away.

“But you’ll be home next year?” Amanda, then a high school junior, asked.

“I’ll do everything I can,” her dad had promised. “But no matter where we are in the world, we can sing Christmas songs until we’ve lost our voices and drink eggnog until our stomachs ache. Deal?”

“Deal,” teenage Amanda had said.

The music on the CD changed to All I Want for Christmas and Amanda placed the ultrasound photo at the base of her father’s headstone that was engraved with his Army rank of lieutenant.

“You keep this picture, I have another copy,” Amanda said. “Now, I haven’t been practicing, and everything makes me sick being pregnant, so it probably won’t take long for me to sing myself mute or get a stomach ache.” She smiled with memories of Christmases past, of singing and matching pajamas and of her dad gifting her with his old car that was miraculously still running. The scent of the eggnog reminded her of his bear hugs and the special way he’d looked at her mom.

Christmas these days isn’t easy for Amanda, like it’s never easy for anyone who’s lost someone they love. But the memories of good times were too sweet to not remember. As sweet as the eggnog that Amanda sipped sitting next to her father’s tombstone on Christmas Eve in a quiet cemetery.

“All I want for Christmas,” Amanda sang as the sun began to set, “is you.”