It’s Christmas Everywhere But Here (2 page)

“But I just wanted—”

“No.” Russ made chopping motions outward with both hands. “What you want? Doesn’t matter. You have to get over what
you
want. Just like you had to with me.”

Doris’s mouth screwed up, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

“You have to accept Austin for who he is, right at this moment, and accept that you trying to change him isn’t going to work. It’s going to result in more screaming fits.”

“He’s seven, Russell. Allowing him to have two-hour screaming fits is not good parenting.”

“Way to take the focus off you, Mom.”

Her mouth gaped this time, but Russell pressed the conversational advantage.

“Also, nice of you to insinuate that you, having raised two neuro-typical children and having spent less than four
days
with Austin, are still more knowledgeable about parenting him than someone who’s spent four
years
caring for him. Thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant, Russell!”

“Then you shouldn’t have said it.”

“Austin behaving like that, honey, it’s just not right.”

“Mom.” Russ stood up, hands flat on the island. “You never liked having to repeat yourself when you were raising me. I don’t really care for it either.”

“Russell, I—”

“Let me finish. And try to actually listen this time.”

Doris opened her mouth, then snapped it firmly shut. “I’m listening.”

“Austin has Asperger’s. So all this right and wrong business that you think is how parenting is done? Throw it out the window. Austin is a whole other ball of wax. You need to ditch what you think ‘should’ be, you need to take my lead on dealing with him, and when I tell you to or not to do something concerning him, you need to fucking
listen
to me.”

“Language, Russell!”

Russ squeezed his eyes shut. “Did you even hear what I said? Or did you just focus on the word ‘fucking’?”

Doris got close enough to smack his arm. “Don’t talk like that! Your daughter is listening.”

“Probably. Were
you
listening?”

Doris backed off, wiping flour and frosting off onto her apron. “Listen to you when you tell me how to deal with him.”

“Yup. Now put it into practice. He probably won’t eat dinner tonight. Do
not
try and force him to the table or force food on him.”

“He’s so skinny, Russ.” She stopped at the look he gave her. “Okay.” One corner of the dishtowel went up to dab at her eyes.

“I don’t want to fight you on this, Mom, but don’t you dare try and make an end run around me. Ems and I work really hard to make sure he doesn’t have days like today, and don’t you dare tell me I’m coddling him.” Russ lowered his finger once her mouth had closed. “He has a—pathological need to know the rules and know what to expect. And
I
am the one who sets the rules.” Russ tapped at his chest. “If I tell him he can have a candy bar? He can. If I tell him he can sit on the couch and play his games until I get back? That’s what happens. Just because it’s different than how you parented? Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

“It’s your house, but he’s
my
kid. If you go against what I tell you and do something that sets him off again? I will take him home to protect him.”

“Protect him? Home? It’s Christmas, Russell! And you’re acting like I’m some sort of—criminal! Protect him? From his grandmother?”

“No matter what your intentions were earlier? You caused him emotional distress today. Enough that he cried. For
two
hours
.”

She deflated at that, staring at her fingers on the counter.

“Papa?”

“Yeah, Ems?”

She stood in the doorway, the pink-striped socks shifting with the nervous movement of her feet.

“Aussie’s getting snively again, but he wouldn’t leave the bedroom to come be with you.”

“Okay, Ems. Thanks. Did you want to help Grandma finish the cookies?” Russ moved away from his mother. He bit back the laugh at the look on Emily’s face.

“Uncle Max said I could help him play fetch with Kaylee.”

“Okay, if that’s what you’d like to do, then have fun.”

Russ gave her shoulder a squeeze in passing and didn’t look back.

R
USS
GAVE
in to the insistent beam of sunlight and the faint sound of music and opened his eyes.

Not the best night’s sleep he’d ever had, with Austin curled up in a hard lump at the small of Russ’s back.

Speaking of, Russ pulled the covers up over his head and burrowed down to where Austin was still curled up. Some sunlight filtered through even the heavy blankets, so it wasn’t completely gloomy. The soft light of Austin’s DS illuminated the boy’s face.

“Morning, buddy.” Russ reached out, stroking through the dark, curly hair. Austin made no move or noise that indicated he’d heard.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, Austin.” Austin wasn’t usually down with physical shows of affection, but he didn’t twist away when Russ scooted close enough to kiss the top of his head. “I promise I won’t leave you alone with Grandma Doris again.” Russ closed his eyes and lay still, listening to the faint sounds of Austin’s game and the boy’s shallow breathing.

Maybe Austin had the right idea, and they could just spend the next week barricaded under the covers.

If only.

“Fifteen minutes ’til breakfast, Aus.” Russ didn’t chance another kiss but slid out of the covers, twitching them back into place.

Dressed in track pants and one of Dave’s long-sleeved Army T-shirts, Russ headed out into the kitchen, with a detour through the restroom to splash water on his face. Something Christmassy and blessedly instrumental played on the stereo. Probably Max’s doing. They at least shared a dislike of Doris’s Christian Christmas albums.

Randall sat at the kitchen table reading the paper over the tops of his glasses, while Doris puttered in the kitchen. The coffee was not the only enticing smell filling the air.

“Morning.” Russ waved through his yawn.

“Morning, Pop!” Emily threw her arms around his middle.

“Sleep okay?” Max grinned over his coffee.

“All right.” Russ shrugged and made for the pot himself.

“We missed you at dinner.” Doris was quiet and kept her gaze on the pancakes she set on the island.

“Sorry about that. Austin wasn’t okay with me being elsewhere, and he didn’t want to move. I had some leftovers later. That clam chowder was really good.”

“Your father made it.”

Russ stopped, the mug halfway to his lips. “Dad cooks?”

Randall’s “Hey, now!” was undercut by Max’s snickering.

“Dad cooked
seafood
? Should we call the hospital?”

Max laughed quietly behind his coffee cup.

“Russell, be nice.”

“Oh, fine. Do you need any help, Mom?”

“No, thank you.” She twitched the syrup and jam into a better alignment. “There was a bottle of wine on the counter this morning.”

“Oh, yeah. I had a glass with the chowder last night. Forgot to put it away, sorry. Anyway, how much longer will breakfast be?” Russ sailed right on past the alcohol conversation.

“Five, ten more minutes?”

“Okay. Ems, would you go tell Austin ten minutes, please?”

“Oh, fine.” She huffed at him but gave him another squeeze before tearing away. They heard her shouting at Austin from the living room.

“Why do you do that?” Doris scrubbed at an invisible stain. “He never responds.”

“Actually, he does.” Max set his coffee cup down. “When Mom sprung lunch on us Sunday, Austin wouldn’t budge off the couch. But when Russ gives him the countdowns, he comes.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Russ smiled at his brother. “And man, Dave and I wish we’d figured
that
out two years sooner than we did.”

Randall and Max laughed with him as Emily came back into the room. “What’s funny? Did you tell a joke?”

“No.” Russ pulled her into another hug. It was comforting, in an odd way, that his intelligent, self-assured daughter could still be clingy. “Just talking about some of Austin’s quirks.”

“Oh. I want orange juice, please, Papa. Gonna go wash my hands.”

“All right, Ems.” Russ set his mug down and started filling glasses. Big for Emily, small for Austin, who may or may not touch it depending on his mood.

Russ squeezed past Doris to wash his own hands at the kitchen sink.

“I don’t like wine in the house, Russell.” Her voice was quiet enough that the dining room might not have heard, but Max was watching them when Russ glanced over.

“Then I’ll put it in the garage after breakfast.”

“I already poured it out.”

Russ stopped cold, his hands clenching on the edge of the sink. “There was no need to do that.”

“Drinking in front of the children sets a bad example.”

Russ sucked in a breath and found some moment of clarity. “We are not even having this conversation right now.” Snagging the dishtowel, he strode past the quiet dining table and out into the hall. “Austin, breakfast in five minutes. Wash your hands, please.”

There was no response, not that Russ had expected one.

Doris was quiet all through breakfast, which was fine with Russ. The pancakes were good, Emily and Max got into a punning contest, and Russ escaped shortly after Austin finished half of two pancakes. Less than desired, but at least he’d eaten something.

The shower wasn’t hot enough, the towel was old and scratchy, and the fog wouldn’t stay off the mirror when Russ went to shave. He drew a lopsided heart in the mist, sketching “R+D” in the middle.

A loud knock interrupted his melancholy. “Gotta pee!” Austin demanded.

Russ knew from experience not to delay. He made sure he had pants on and yanked the door open, stepping out into the hall as Austin ducked under his arm.

Doris peered out of her bedroom. Russ smiled at her. “Urgent business. I’ll finish shaving in a minute.” He leaned back against the wall, which had him looking away from her.

“Are you upset with me, Russell?”

Russ crossed arms over his bare chest. “Yes.”

She twisted the mug in her hand. “I apologize if I did anything that upset Austin. Or you.”

If
she’d done something. It was probably the closest he was going to get to an admission. “Thank you.” There was so much waiting to be said, but that was not a conversation to have when he was half-dressed in the hall, shaving cream slowly melting on his face.

“You’ve been with”—Doris didn’t quite spit out the next word—“David for four years, Russ. And I feel like I hardly know my grandchildren.”

Russ slid his gaze over to where Doris was standing. She’d come around enough they were “my grandchildren” now, instead of “that man’s kids.”

“You do hardly know them.” Russ decided not to point out that the lack of visitation was as much her choice as it had been his.

“Ems I can at least have a conversation with, but Austin—how do I reach him, Russell?”

“Don’t force yourself on him. Talk to him. He hears you, even if he doesn’t respond. Unless his earphones are in, then it’s fifty-fifty. He’s got to get used to you, Mom. He needs to learn that you’re safe, that you’re not going to upset the balance.”

“What balance?”

“And
that’s
why you need to take your lead from me.”

The bathroom door banged open. “Washed.” Austin thrust his hands
up.

“Cool. Thanks.” Russ swiped at Austin’s curls, but the boy twisted away and darted down the hall to the room he was sharing with his sister.

Russ ducked back into the bathroom to finish shaving. He felt slightly more human after his shower, dressed in fresh jeans but still wearing Dave’s shirt.

“Hey.” Max sidled up to him in the hall. “I hid the other bottle.” He was slightly shorter than Russ, with blond highlights in his artfully tousled hair. Lean and fit, where Russ was just a healthy weight.

Russ gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Hey. Dad and I were going to take the dogs to the park. You wanna bring the kids?” Russ tried not to be jealous of how brown eyes looked good on Max. Hell, everything looked good on Max.

“Em will want to go. Austin—is not a fan of dogs.”

“There’s a playground. Would he like that while Ems and I wear the dogs out?”

“He would love that. If he’s willing to go. Let’s find out.”

Emily was willing enough, and Austin too, once he was assured Grandma wasn’t coming and that they would ride in a different truck than the dogs.

“Papa?” Emily sat on the edge of the bed, twisting back to look at him as much as she could without pulling on her hair.

“Hmm.” Russ carded his fingers through the thick blonde strands.

“Weren’t you going to braid it?”

“Yeah, sorry, Ems. Just reminded me of your dad’s for a minute.” Russ resumed brushing and separating her hair into bunches. “Though yours is all bushy, and his is barely long enough to see.”

“His used to be bushy. Do you remember?”

Russ laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen those pictures. It’s probably a good thing he shaves it, or his hair would take over the world.” He deftly twisted a few inches of hair into a plait, then let the rest hang loose. “How’s that?”

Emily shook her head back and forth. “Fine.”

Russ put the hair twisty in to hold it in place. As Emily made to get up, he hugged her back against his chest, making her giggle and squirm. “Unlike you, smarty pants, who will take over the world with your
brain
.” He blew a raspberry on her temple before letting her go.

Emily twisted away to stand, tugging her pink Henley back into place. She had on jeans that showed off her ever-lengthening legs and a white belt with a big silver ring as the buckle. The girl was going to take over the world in
style
.

“Grandma says we have to go to Christmas Eve service.” Emily’s voice was low, and there was far too much seriousness in her ten-year-old face.

Russ sighed. “Grandma is probably going to be disappointed.”

“Austin?”

“Yup.” They both looked behind Russ to the lump in the bed and the faint video game noises coming from within. Austin had showered and dressed for the park and promptly disappeared back under the covers.