/ Holiday Treats #5

10-4 Little Buddy

by

I hope you enjoy this fun bit of concentrated positivity. I loved writing an older protagonist, and someone extremely different from my normal rambling hot messes. So please, enjoy!

— DerbyGhost

 

We pushed our way through the cold and howling wind of the parking lot seeking out shelter in the last place that I ever thought I would be on Christmas day. There were places on this Earth that angels feared to tread, that if the three wise men approached following that star… Well they’d turn right around and decide that chilling at home actually sounded pretty good. I’d heard of places like this, of course, torture chambers where women of all ages would willingly sacrifice hours of their time. The kid next to me obviously hadn’t heard the horror stories and was breathlessly giddy beneath hi-her mask. She had that extra bounce in her step that you only saw when in anticipation mode. She was promised a surprise, and boy howdy would she get it. 

I took a deep breath and pulled my scarf a little closer to my face. Fuck, were my lips chapped. It felt like they were chapped. My knee was acting up, again, but I was expecting that. The cold really brought out the worst in it. And as much as I loved walking in a winter wonderland it really was hell in my body. But it was all worth it for the kid.

After what felt like forever, we finally made our way through the parking lot and towards our destination. This was it. The moment of truth. I stood looking at the door, trying to work up the willpower to open it and walk in. It felt like I was compromising a part of myself just being here, but at this point it didn’t matter. We were here, and I had to face the music one way or another. 

“Mom, are we waiting for someone? Is Aunt Stacy picking us up? Because we’re definitely not going in here.” I turned and saw the kid standing there, shivering and staring at me with those big bright eyes of hers and I remembered why I was here. She had a little glimmer of hope in her eyes, but it was guarded. Like she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high. That one look helped me steel up my resolve and helped me push open the door and out of our comfort zones. Hearing a gasp of shock from my daughter, we marched our way in out of the cold.

Upon entering I was hit by a simultaneous wave of warm comforting air, which honestly was a welcome feeling even after the quick parking lot walk. Shit, I must be getting really old if the cold is fucking with me that much. The other thing that really stood out to me was the smell, it was pungent and ever present. Sure, they tried to cover it up with some incense or whatever, but it was everywhere. It’s funny how scent can just reach into your head and yank out some memories. Things that you don’t really want to experience again. I couldn’t help but remember the last time I was in a place that smelled like this, so feminine and chemical. Before I was old enough to complain and get out of it, Ma, may her soul rot, tried getting me and Stace to have these girl days with her by taking us with her to her salon. We never got anything done, mostly it was just sitting around and waiting for her hair dye to finish. Soon it was just her and Stace. And then soon after that it was just her. Good riddance I say. 

I was shaken out of my haze by a pretty voice, high and sweet. She probably had a hell of a singing voice. “Hi ladies, welcome to Bliss Nail Bar. Do you have an appointment?” 

“Do we, mom?” The kid’s eyes turned to me, the hope shining brighter in her eyes like she just hit big at Vegas. Her little hand was flapping and bouncing like it did when she got really, really excited.

“Yeah, we do kiddo. Uh, it’s an appointment for two. It’s under my sister’s name, Stacy Orville. Treating the little one to her first spa day, well really our first spa day.” My voice, harsh and lower than the receptionists from years of smoking on the road, was nervous and shaky. I don’t know if you can tell yet, but I’m not exactly what you’d call a specimen of femininity. I drove a truck for a living, for God’s sake. And yet here I was, with a daughter I didn’t know I had, taking the plunge with her. I had to put up a strong front, heaven knows she’s probably nervous as hell underneath that livewire buzz of excitement. 

After shedding our coats like a snake, we both followed an employee past a few other women to our destination. The chairs were black and shiny, they looked like leather, but were connected to a little tub at the bottom. Had to admit, they looked mighty cozy and I was a little excited to take the load off. A life on the road wore you down, bit by bit. People think that being a trucker is easy, all you have to do is drive around. But you’re driving for hours and hours on end and that sedentary life really gets to you after a while. 

I was brought out of my head once again by that chipper high bubble gum squeak of a voice, right Donna, no time to get stuck in your head. “Okay girls, my name’s Cindy so just holler at me if you need anything, kay? These are massage chairs. The controls are on the side with this remote here, see. Now you two just chill here for a second and I'll see if your nail artists are ready yet. It says here that you’re down for the full works.” 

My eyes went wide, “the, uh, full works?”

“Yep!” Cindy beamed, “you’re down for a deluxe manicure, pedicure, and facial. Stacy said that it would be both of y’all’s first times so we’re going to make sure to treat you right. Now is there anything we can get for you both?”

“Um do you have any soda, please?” The kid was giddy out of her mind, but she was keeping it cool. She had already started the massage thing and every once in a while would let out a little noise or two as it did its work. How could she look so comfortable here? It was her first time too, darn it. Ah the flexibility of 12 year old’s I guess.

“We have diet coke, is that okay?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. Diet coke is all my Aunt Stacy drinks anyway.” 

“You are so polite and cute, goodness, I hope when my daughter’s your age she’s as sweet as you.” The kid beamed at the compliment, soaking it all in like a sponge. I tried to remember the last time she was this happy, this seemingly carefree. For the longest time it was like a cloud was following my boy, raining on every little thing that he did. But here, she seemed like she was in her element. It was right there in front of my face. “And for you ma’am, anything to drink?”

My nerves were still shot so I took a chance, 

“You wouldn’t happen to have any beer would you?”

“Moooooom we’ve got a lot to do today.”

“Honey it’s Christmas, your mom is able to have a little somethin’ somethin’, well, as long as they have it of course. It’s just one drink, not like I’m gonna get smashed at the nail bar. That’s what regular bars are for.”

Cindy just chuckled and thought for a moment. “I thiiiink we might have some craft beer remaining in the fridge from our holiday party. Let me check. While I’m doing that, sit tight and relax and someone will be back with you shortly.”

I’m a simple lady so in this case I did as I was told. I sat back, letting the mechanical wheels of the massage chair work wonders on my back. I had it on highest pressure and that thing was goddamn pulverizing my spine in the best way. Damn, maybe I could get this for the truck. For the first time since setting out on this Christmas spa day I sat back and tried to relax. Which honestly was easier than I thought, at this point I had gotten used to that damn smell and I could just focus on being present with my girl. My girl. That still felt weird in my brain. Not that it was wrong or anything just… different. Too different to wrap my mind around completely. But that was a me problem, and it was a me problem that I was aiming to solve myself. 

Cindy brought back a soda for the squirt and a beer for me. It was one of those foofoo fancy pants New England IPAs from a local brewery, but beer was beer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they’ve got some special beers nowadays for people to enjoy. But there’s not really much wrong with a Bud Light. But hey, when in Rome right? Taking a sip of my beer I decided that maybe the fancy pants might have been on to something. 

“Are you okay mom?” I turned and saw my little bear sitting staring at me. With her diet coke in hand and her being all dressed up in a dress and tights, if I saw her on the street I’d have just thought she was some scruffy little late bloomer. But she was my kid, and for a moment I felt my heart swell with pride seeing her sitting there, not a care in the world. 

“Yeah honey, I’m just adjusting. This is.” I paused, swirling the words and another sip of beer around in my mouth. “This is not really what your mom’s used to. But it’s good to try new things, right?”

That got a smile from her and my heart melted all over again. Smiles used to be so rare, but now she was just giving ‘em away. I let myself drift back again, closing my eyes and really leaning into the massage chair. And once again all I could think of was how I got here. How my life had changed so much, and in the span of 48 hours too. Damn.

***

Driving a truck is thankless work. You spend all of your day making sure the American economy is rolling on smoothly, going from place to place until they all become a blur on the map. And what do you get at the end of the day? A truck stop shower and a microwave meal waiting for you back in your rig. I promised Stace last year that I’d stop eating fast food so much, so I was trying these healthy meals. Couldn’t have a stove so it’s not like I could cook much, so I had to take what I could get. It wasn’t worth blowing my money on meals anyway. I had a college fund to take care of. 

You don’t find as many women in trucking. It’s kind of an Old Boy’s Club but I feel like I’ve carved out my own little corner in their world. If they don’t like it, I’ll give ‘em piss and vinegar until they shut the fuck up. Most of the guys refer to me as the Bear to my face, the Bitch behind my back. But I didn’t care. I was here to do my job, and it wasn’t my job to listen to some sexist S O B prattle on and on about women. There were some good eggs out there though, ones that didn’t constantly spout whatever bullshit came to their head. Ricky was one of my favorites, he was a mountain of a man with a gentle demeanor and a strong voice. He was one of the good ones, helped me find my feet when I first started and helped me blow off some steam. Besides my sister and my kid, he probably was my closest friend. Maybe only friend.

It was hard finding a good job when all you had was a high school diploma. I was planning on going to college but then the whole thing with mom and Stacy happened. I had to choose between school and solidarity with my sister, and dammit I chose my sister. The money that I had saved up went to an apartment for the two of us so that she could finish out her last two years of high school. She always was the smartest of the two of us anyway, and she was pretty damn good at softball too. It hurt, working shitty jobs to keep the lights on and the two of us fed. But we were banking on the future. Somewhere along the way I met a guy who was a truck driver at my Waffle House job who helped me get started in the business. Said it was good pay, and even if it kept me away from my sister she was almost in college by then. Scholarships and everything, I knew she’d turn out okay. 

At first it was a taste of freedom that had been taken from me. Nothing against Stacy, I love her so much and if it was between her and a mother who decided to turn her back on her daughter because she happened to be gay, well I’d pick my sister any day. All that woman cared about was appearances, and mostly physical. And boy did she hate that neither of her daughters had much interest in being a Barbie Doll. Nothing wrong with that, mind you. Women can be whatever they wanna be, but I ain’t that kind of girl. I’m the kind of girl who would beat the tar out of anyone who would say shit about my sister. It was the 2000s. Sure things were getting better, but it was still rough for an out lesbian. 

Anyway, eventually sometime on the road I met the walking sperm bank that is Cam’s father, had a little fling, and then immediately lost contact as soon as they found out that I was pregnant. But it didn’t matter. At that moment I promised to be the mom to my kid that I didn’t have. At this point Stacy’s career was getting off the ground so I took the baby on the road with me for a while. Those were hard days, but we had to live ‘em. We’re comfortable now, but it was touch and go for a while. Some would say we were living the American dream, at least they’d try to say that around me and keep a mouthful of teeth. I’d say we got lucky.

The holidays always get to me. I think about ancient history, I dig up old wounds and make ‘em bleed a little bit more. I can’t help it. I guess I’m just the sentimental type. I could also chalk it up to the sleep deprivation that comes from a month on the road trying to haul as many packages and presents that I could. Again, Cam has to go to college and I wasn’t going to have my little boy wanting anything. He was going to get the life that had passed me by and I was going not stay behind him no matter what he ended up doing. Physically he took after his dna donor more than me, he was a twiggy little guy. Slight and sensitive, always with a big ol’ bleeding heart. You step into my truck you’d think it’s a shrine, I’ve got pictures of all 12 years of that guy’s life pasted on every little surface. It helps that I own my own truck. I put in a lot of sweat, blood, and tears into this baby. Stacy sometimes refers to it as my second kid, and I guess she’s not wrong. 

The typical haul is about 2-3 weeks before I get a little home time to spend with the kiddo and sis. Typical, that is. But nothing really is typical anymore. They’re looking for more workers because some of them passed away, and with times being what they are I was on a particular long haul. I was itching to get home, my little cub had been sounding weird over the phone on our calls. A little shifty, never really giving full answers. Last time I had seen the kid be that nervous was before their first big panic attack, and that made me worried. I blamed myself, obviously, I was his mother and gone for long periods of time. I hoped that was it. I prayed that was it, and I honestly almost never pray. Not my scene. Not anymore. 

I shot Stacy a quick text and made my way to the car. It was cold as balls and the forecast said there’d be a white Christmas. That’s fine with me. I’d take whatever kind of Christmas as long as I could spend it with my family. It took about an hour to drive from the Terminal where my truck was stowed to our cozy little house, and the entire time all I could think of was how nice it was going to be to get a home cooked meal and to see my kid again. 

Traffic was fine, I had to adjust to being so close to the ground again. I saw a dumb political billboard and reached out to grab my CV radio to vent to Ricky about it by instinct before I even remembered that I wasn’t in my truck. It’s little things like that that get ingrained into your muscle memory. And it’s hard to get back to normal living. I at least pulled a sweet two week break which lined up with Cam’s time off from school so we were going to make the most of it.

What I wasn’t expecting was Stace sitting on the front porch, cup of coffee in one hand and a beer in the other. She had this look on her face that I couldn’t really puzzle out. She brightened up while I pulled into the drive, straightening herself out a little bit and stretching her long legs. Who knows how long she was sitting out there. The little worst case scenario machine that I had in my head worried that something was wrong with the Kid, usually they’d be rushing up to my car by now. Sure they could be a little down in the dumps, but their eyes still lit up when they saw their mom. 

“Hey Stace, happy Christmas Eve to ya. Where’s the pup?” I shambled my way to the back of my beater and grabbed my luggage out of the trunk. It felt heavier, but that was probably my back straining to lift it out. 

“Well, uh, yeah about that. Donna, we need to talk about something important before you go inside. Something extremely important, okay?” Her voice was steady and even, I recognized this voice. This was her therapist voice, trying to make sure everything was okay. I’d heard her use this voice enough over the phone when talking to patients, or trying to talk me down when I was a wreck because I couldn’t be there to hold my cub while they were having a breakdown. 

“Jesus Christ, Stace. You’re scaring me, is Cam okay?” My heart was rattling around in my chest, I had half a mind to rip my way past Stacy and find the kid myself, but instead I took a deep breath and I waited. Calming and centering myself. I wasn’t one for new age crap, but I promised my kid that we’d learn some breathing and mindful exercises together from his aunt, and they definitely paid off. 

“They’re fine, in fact, actually, they’re great. It’s just a little bit different.”

“Different how?”

My sister shifted uncomfortably, handing me the beer. “Remember when mom kicked me out because I liked girls. Well of course you remember, how could we forget. Anyway, remember how you ranted about how soulless and cowardly one would have to be because their kid turned out a bit different?”

I cocked my head to the side, “Are you saying that Cam is gay? I mean, obviously I’m fine with that. I don’t see why we have to go through this whole thin-”

“It’s not that, Donna. Not what you think. G-Cam is. Well… Okay.” Stacy sighed and struggled with what she wanted to say for a second.

“It’s okay Aunt Stacy, I can show her.”

You are reading story Santa’s Secret Transfic Anthology Vol. 2 at novel35.com

That was Cam’s voice, there they were. My kiddo. My cub. I turned to the front door to see my kid and was surprised by the figure standing there. For a moment all I could do was look at the stranger in the doorway. It was a young girl, probably about Cam’s age. She was wearing a pretty plain red dress over a thick pair of woolen tights. Her hair was cut in a pretty butch style, but she was wearing a red hair clip to keep her bangs out of her eyes. All in all a pretty cute kid. And then my brain slowly caught up to the reality of the whole situation. That wasn’t just some cute kid. That was my kid. 

Looking closer now, I could see my little cub there. They were nervous, hands wringing the hem of their skirt. Their big eyes, always one of the cub’s nicest features, were darting from me to my sister. God, just looking at the kiddo again, it was a shock just how much they looked like my sister at their age. 

“So,” I paused. This was a moment that my kid would remember for the rest of their life. Parenting in general was as much an art as it was a science. You had to be consistent with how you treated your kids, but there were still moments that you had to ace or else it would hurt them. And nobody would hurt my little cub. “My cub seems to have gotten a lot prettier since I last left. Do you have a name you’d like me to call you sweetie?”

My kid darted down the front steps, taking them two at a time until they came barreling into my arms. I wrapped them up as tight as I possibly could, daring the world to pry them from my hands. “Um… I was hoping I could go with Gwen, if that’s okay of course.”

“That is more than okay little cub. That is such a pretty name. And it suits you. You’re much more of a Gwen then… well that other name. Now how about we go inside, maybe aunt Stacy can make some of her world famous hot cocoa since it’s cold as tits out here, and you can maybe tell me about it, hm?” The look on Gwen’s face was, well let’s just say she’s not going to be the only one who won’t forget this day. I saw my special little kid again, pushing through the anxiety and her nerves. So I had a daughter, huh? 

Shit.

Wait. 

I have a daughter? How do you even raise a girl? Boys? Boys were straight forward. I was glad that I was holding Gwen tight in my arms so she couldn’t see the brief look of panic that flashed across my face. But at the same time, would I rather have a miserable son or a happy daughter? The answer seemed obvious.

***

The rest of the day sped by in a flurry of last-minute holiday preparations and some mother-daughter time. Sure, it was a tradition that we made fresh cookies every Christmas eve. But this was the first time all three of us worked in the kitchen at once. I could barely keep my eyes off of my girl. Sure it was awkward at times, I’d say the wrong name or mess up her new pronouns. But I’d quickly correct myself and give her a quick hug. I hope she realized how much I was trying, but every time I cursed at myself a bit and gave a little internal kick in the pants. 

Eventually though we wore the kiddo out. I’m sure coming out to your momma isn’t necessarily the easiest thing to do anyway, so she was already pretty emotionally spent. And with little sneaks of cookie dough, eggnog, and fresh baked cookies she got pretty loaded up on sugar. But hey, we were celebrating. It’s not every day that your kid decides you’re worthy of learning a secret. 

After Gwen went to sleep Stacy and I tucked into a little last-minute tradition of our own. We cracked open a bottle of whiskey, a nice one that I got out on the road mind you. Something from some local distillery. Yeah, I might drink the cheap shit when it comes to beer, but you don’t fuck around with spirits. After we both had a little sip or two, we began our yearly Night Before Christmas present wrapping session. I usually picked a lot of shit up on the road, and I liked to keep it hidden in the back of my rig. Most of it was for Gwen, obviously. Usually it was weird oddities that I’d find out there. She still had the stuffed Jackalope that I gave her a couple years back. The two of them were inseparable for a while. 

For a bit we worked in silence, letting the radio give us a little break from talking. We’d chime in every now and then, singing along to an old carol. I tried not to listen to Christmas music on the road, I kept it for when I got back home. It was more special that way. Somewhere along the way it began to snow, thick heavy flakes quickly swallowing the landscape up in a field of white. For a moment my body released a little bit of tension that I didn’t realize I was holding. 

“So,” Stacy broke the silence while she was trying to figure out the best way to wrap a festive looking, and feminine, teen sized cat sweater. “How are you really taking this Don?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours, sis. Usually you’re a little more boisterous and a little more drunk during this little wrap sesh. And since there’s really one big thing that’s changed, I feel like we need to talk about it a little bit, mom to mom.” Yeah, Stacy had the rights to call herself Gwen’s second mom. She looked after the kid for weeks at a time while I was away. She might have been Aunt Stacy, but we both knew that she probably was more of a mom than I was. That always hurt a little bit, in the back of my mind. But I knew my pup loved me as much as her. 

“I guess, well, I guess it’s all so new.” I paused, swirling the whiskey around in the little cup. The single block of ice that my sister insisted on me having clinked heavily against the sides. 

“How did it happen? What was the tipping point, if the tyke was bottling it up it had to be something big?”

Stace sighed and took a swig. “One morning I’m drinking a cup of coffee, checking twitter, and all of the sudden I hear her screaming from upstairs. It was the most blood curdling thing. I was so worried that I dropped the cup and ran. Well after hauling ass up the stairs, I see Gwen. Her upper lip is all red and raw and she’s just going over and over again over the same spot with that electric razor that you got her a little bit ago, crying the whole time.”

I have always prided myself on my control over my emotions. After I cried in front of the bitch that was my mother, I promised that I needed to be emotionally strong for Stacy. And then once Gwen came along, well I had to be the big momma bear for her. Right now that precious control was nowhere to be found. I felt a big fat tear roll down my cheek, but I had to know more. I motioned for her to go on. 

“It turns out, she started noticing a little peach fuzz coming in and panicked. From the way she said it, she always knew puberty was going to come, but she always felt like it was a thing that happened to other people. She paid more attention to what was going to happen for the girls in sex ed than the guys, and seeing that facial hair, well, it broke the last little bit of hesitancy she had about being a girl. Of course, at the moment I didn’t know that, I had a bawling kid on my hands. I took the razor out of her hands and wrapped her up in the biggest hug that I could give her. I know it’s not one of your bear hugs, sis, but it seemed to do the trick. We did a little bit of breathing and as soon as she was stable it all started pouring out of her like a waterfall. How she was jealous of all the other girls in her school. How she felt trapped in her body, but didn’t really know how to express that. About how secretly some of her school friends have been using she/her for her and how good it makes her feel inside. It just all popped out.”

“Was she… was she worried that I was going to take it the wrong way?” I had to ask. Was there something I did that made her want to come and talk to Stacy about this first? 

“No, the entire time she said that she really wanted to share this with you as soon as you came home. I think that ate up at her the most, keeping something like this from her moms." At this point Stacy helped me with a nice solid refill and made sure not to keep her cup dry herself.

We sat again, enjoying the white Christmas scene outside. Inside it was warm and cozy, the drink and emotions burning inside of me. “I’m scared, Stace. I’m so fucking scared.”

“Hm? Scared of what?” There it was, the therapist voice again. Not that I minded, I needed a good shrink session.

“Everything. You know me, I’m not exactly the most femme specimen out there. I’ve been a big burly tomgirl since the day I graced this Earth. When I look at her, she’s already in dresses and seems to love pink based on the cookie icing. Well and blue too. And white. I dunno, she’s already more feminine than me. She already has this, I dunno, grace to her that I've never been able to wrap my head around. All I can see is her looking up to me for guidance on how to be a girl, and I don’t know if I’m the right person to give her that. I’m going to hurt her, Stacy, one way or another. I'm going to say something stupid, or she's going to realize her momma's in over her stupid head.”

Stace just shook her head, “You know that kid thinks the world of you. As long as you try your best to be there for her, there’s no way she could be disappointed by you. And besides, I’ll be here to teach her makeup if she wants to learn.”

I nodded. That made sense. Stacy was always a bit more into that kinda crap than I was. Nothing wrong with just seeing my face. “Also, I gotta say. I’m really lost with this trans stuff. I know she wants to be a girl, but is that even possible? How are we going to help the pup stop hurting?”

“Well I checked with some of my colleagues, especially those that work with LGBT youth and I followed their course of action. Right now we start her off on puberty blockers, something to stop the changes that are happening. It won’t reverse what testosterone has done, it’s not a miracle drug. But she’s still got a pretty androgynous voice and she won’t get any more facial hair besides the bit she already has.”

I nodded again, my head was starting to resemble one of them drinking birds. “Makes sense. Doesn’t wanna be a man, stop that from happening.”

“Right. We do that for a year or so. Let her socially transition, which it sounds like she was already doing on her own. We’re going to need to put in for a name change, and a gender marker change. But since we’re both already her guardians we can make the process much easier for her. And then probably before she starts high school, if she wants it we can start on a low dose of estrogen and give her a puberty similar to her peers.”

“Her peers. Ah shit, what if they’re mean to her? What if one of her teachers hates trans people? I’ve seen all the legislation about trans this and trans that. What if I can’t protect her?” I had to force my breathing to slow down. This was so much. I’ve always been protective of my cub, but this? It hurt my heart that their life would probably be harder through no fault of their own. 

“Well she seems to have a pretty supportive friend group who, and I quote, ‘are all pretty much gay anyway.’ So I think she’s not going to have to worry about her friends, but you’re right. It’ll be more dangerous for her, but she knows that she has two parents that will fight like hell for her. Isn’t that right, Donna?”

“I’d do anything to protect that smile.” The words came out before I had time to think, but it was true. It felt like I was finally really seeing who my cub was, and there was nothing in the world that was going to stop them from flourishing into the beautiful young woman that I knew she’d grow up to be. In that moment, things clicked for me. I was so worried about messing this up. About not being able to help her. About being my own mother and driving a wedge between us. When what I really needed to think about was her. My Gwen. I felt the fear fade to the background as I made my mind up. I didn’t have time anymore for what ifs. I had to be the best mom that I could. 

My sister gave me that evil younger sibling look, the kind that they whip up when they know they’re causing problems on purpose. In a little singsong voice she gestured at the different packages we wrapped up, “You know Donna, speaking of seeing Gwen smile… You’re not going to like this. But I made some special plans for the two of you tomorrow.”

***

I will never say this out loud. I swear to God. I swear on my truck. I have a little bit of a reputation to uphold as a badass. But once things started really rolling, Gwen and I had a bundle of fun at our little spa day. Every new experience just brought a bigger smile to her face, and I couldn’t help but smile along. She was still a little obviously nervous about some things. She had never had her nails painted before, and she was worried about what some of the meaner kids would say. But then she saw that I had picked out a nice shade of pink and asked her if she wanted to share. 

Even now, on our drive to our big Christmas breakfast, she kept staring in pure joy at her nails. I think she was trying to play it cool since she always shot up to look at something else every time she saw that I noticed, but it was obvious that the spa really made her day. 

Usually, our car rides were quiet. Gwen was a nervous kid, even on the best of days. I realize now that was probably the big secret pressing its weight on her heart, smothering her emotions in uh, what was the word that Stacy used? Dysphoria, right. That. But now this kid was a chatterbox, I couldn’t have shut her up if I tried. She talked about anything and everything and I just sat there and listened, making the occasional smart-ass comment and getting an eye roll in response. She talked about her friends, how excited she was to go back to school, how everyone thought I was the best mom ever for doing this, and it went on and on. And I personally loved every moment of it. I already felt closer to my little girl than I ever did before.

After some careful driving and an ear full of conversation we arrived at our destination. The one place always open on Christmas, hell open any dang day of the year. Sure you might have your opinions about it, but a Waffle House Christmas is one of those things that you have to see to believe. I worked through one or two, and it was the one day of the year that I didn’t go home stressed. Which is saying something, since Christmas is one of Waffle House’s busiest days of the year. There’s just a vibe in there, everyone understands that it’s the holidays and there are other places or people we could be with. 

Some people who come to Waffle House on Christmas don’t really have that kind of family. Maybe they’re not close to their loved ones, or they just got divorced. Some of them were ancient fossils who came to Waffle House for breakfast every day of the year and Christmas wasn’t anything new to them. I had a pretty good rapport with the regulars who remembered me from my waitress days. Yeah, they’ve been coming for that long. 

Putting the truck in park, we both hopped out again into the winter chill. It had gotten a tad bit warmer, like a degree or two, but it was still pretty damn cold. For a second I noticed the pup looking nervously at herself and then back at Waffle House. I knew that she was worried about causing a scene, so I thought I’d distract her a bit. “Now that you’re a girl you’re not too cool for Christmas Waffle House with your mom, right?” I reached out my hand and she grabbed it tight. Her soft fingers wrapped around my course digits. Our fingers wrapped around each other and I could see our pink nails, matching in the low light of morning. 

“How could I be too cool for Waffle House Christmas?” She asked with a fake air of confidence, giving a little giggle like I had said the stupidest thing in the world. “It’s tradition. And I’m with my mom. Two of my favorite things in the world.”

“Ah little cub,” I swooped down and quickly wrapped around her in a big hug, picking her up off the ground and giving her a snowy twirl in the air. She squealed and kicked her legs a little bit, more in fake protest than anything. She had to keep her dignity, of course. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so let’s get some hash browns, hmm? I could eat a whole triple order.” Gently setting her down I gave her hair a quick ruffle as we grabbed hands again. I couldn’t wait to let all of the regulars know that I had a daughter, and that I would happily meet any of them outside in the parking lot if they had a problem with it. I had a reputation to uphold after all.

 

Thank you so much for checking my story out. This story is dedicated to my mom, someone who is so unlike the protagonist but shares her strength. If you can, give an older lady in your life a hug. If you liked this and want something Completely Different, well . Or you can check out last year's Secret Santa story which has slice of life vibes. 

— DerbyGhost

 

/ Holiday Treats #5

Follow to catch A Cutie for Christmas on May 5th

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