Page 52 of Naughty-ish

However, sitting in the house and wallowing isn’t an option. Instead, I declare we need a field trip to celebrate their first day off.

Like a hundred other families, we go to Maggie Daley Park Ice Skating Rink. The crisp, cold outdoors does wonders for my mind as I’m too busy concentrating on helping Nash to worry about my future. Eloise effortlessly weaves through the people wobbling on two thin blades, while I glide alongside Nash, holding his hand as he swishes back and forth on shaky legs.

“You’re doing great, buddy.” His little legs swish-swish while his tongue pops out, rolling around his mouth like it helps him keep his balance.

As we round a bend, in the distance, a fire engine siren rips through the air, cutting into the festive holiday music played on overhead speakers throughout the park.

“Did you know Nick is a fireman?” Nash says to me.

“I did know that.” Nash often mentions this fact when he sees or hears a fire truck.

“I really had fun with him when we went to chop down our Christmas tree. And when he made cookies with us.”

“Oh, yeah?” I stare forward as Nash’s blades scrape-scrape over the bumpy ice.

“Dad doesn’t do those kinds of things.”

My chest aches. Mitch didn’t do much regarding the holidays. I’d done it all, so I don’t know why I felt this year would be so different. I was still making lists, checking them twice, and doing all the holiday things.

Baking. Buying. Wrapping. Decorating.

It was the same old, same old. Only, it wasn’t. We’d made new traditions this year. The three of us.

However, Nick was sprinkled into most of those newly made memories. He’d played a big part in attempts to restore my faith in this season.

“Think Nick would like to go ice skating with us?” Nash asks. His arms wave awkwardly at his sides, like a winterized Frankenstein learning to skate.

“I don’t know, Nash. He’s busy.”

Nash scrunches up his face as he teeters, and I catch him by the back of his coat. He straightens and continues.

“He said he’d never be too busy for us. Not like Dad. Dad is always busy.”

“He what?” I’m the one to falter, my skates catching on a notch of ice along the path.

“Dad’s always saying he’s busy.”

I’d heard that excuse plenty of times before but that isn’t what I’m asking. “I mean, Nick. When did he say he was never too busy for us.” I correct myself. “For you.”

Nash shrugs, causing his body to wobble again. “When we went to cut down our tree. He said if I ever needed anything I could ask him. If I was in trouble, or you needed help, I could come to his house.”

My brows pinch. “What did he mean by trouble?” Just what was he suggesting to my son?

“He said if something happened to our house, or I didn’t feel safe. I should never hide in a fire, but if someone breaks in, then I should hide. He also told me to call 9-1-1, but I told him I don’t have a cell phone.”

Oh my God, what was Nick thinking by saying such things to my child? I already had Eloise afraid Santa was a burglar.

“Why did Nick say all that?”

“He said he just wanted me to know he’d always be there to protect us.”

I still as Nash skates ahead, his stance a little more confident. His strides better. I’d always be here to protect him and Eloise, but it was nice to think someone else might be looking out for them as well.

Looking out for all of us.

And like a freaking sign from the Universe, “Christmas Time Is Here” begins to play over the loudspeaker.

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