Santa Loves Curvy Girls

25. Nick

25

NICK

M om and I found ourselves at Scrooge’s again the day after Christmas.

We had come here for Christmas dinner and hung out with Scrooge and a couple other Christmas regulars. But Scrooge had the best burgers, fries, and milkshakes in town, so I wasn’t upset when Mom had suggested coming here again for supper.

I think she thought that Scrooge was lonely, but I was starting to think that maybe she was kind of lonely too and enjoyed his company.

In one more year, I’d be off to college, and while I didn’t want to go far, I knew it wouldn’t be the same as me living at home. She’d be on her own.

We sat down at the counter, and I picked up the menu even though I knew I would get the same thing I always did—a burger with onion rings.

Right away, Scrooge came over to wipe down the counter next to us and refill the sugar packets. But I think he just wanted to talk to Mom. Or listen to her talk, really.

I noticed how her face lit up as she conversed with him, and for the first time, I noticed Scrooge too. It was like I could sense his heart growing a size or two. The man wasn’t bad-looking at all, as far as potential guys to date my mom went. And I could tell my mom was trying not to stare.

He was a little rough around the edges, with stubble that covered most of his jaw, and he didn’t like to socialize much, even though he ran the diner. But he had a quiet kindness if he allowed you to get close enough to see it.

Scrooge turned to me. “What’ll you have to drink, Nick?”

“Root beer, please,” I replied.

“And for me too,” Mom said with a smile on her face.

Scrooge nodded in response and turned to get us drinks from the fountain machine. Mom asked him a question about his shirt, wondering if he had gotten it for Christmas. To me it looked the same as what he usually wore.

Figuring Mom might appreciate a few minutes on her own, I excused myself to the bathroom. As I walked past the cash register, I noticed the large display case off to the side. It was full of very familiar-looking cookies.

My lips lifted even though an ache settled in my chest. The sight of them reminded me so much of Belle. I knew it was weird of me to stand there staring at the cookies, so I continued to the restroom.

When I took my seat again a few minutes later, Scrooge was polishing an already sparkling-clean glass and listening to Mom talk about something or other. “I see you got the cookies in already,” I told him at a break in their conversation.

He nodded and kept cleaning the glass in his hand. “Yeah, thanks for the tip. People love ’em.”

“Have you had one?” I asked him, taking a sip of my root beer.

“Yep,” Scrooge said. “They don’t make ’em like that anymore, I’ll tell you that. Reminds me of…” He paused for a moment, then seemed to remember he was talking out loud. “Anyway, I’ve already put in another order.” He finally finished polishing the glass, setting it carefully on the shelf behind him. “That girl should open a bakery or something.”

A few people came in the door, and Scrooge set off to take care of them.

Mom turned to me, picking up her root beer. “Is it me or is Scrooge a little nicer these days?”

“With you,” I teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than one full sentence, until now.” I grinned. “I think he has a crush on you, Mom.”

She nudged me playfully, but I saw the color rising in her cheeks like she was the teenager and not me.

I put my drink down and glanced at the display case. While I wanted to taste one of Belle’s cookies again, I also wished she was the one giving it to me, because that would mean she wasn’t mad at me anymore.

That things weren’t over between us.

Mom nudged me again. This time concern etched her face. “What is it?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t quite know what to say. “It’s nothing, Mom,” I said finally.

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” she said. “I’ve never seen you like this, honey. What is it?”

I sighed. “Belle, the girl who bakes the cookies,” I began but didn’t know how to go on without telling my mom about the Santa suit and the reason why Belle and I broke up.

“I thought there might be a reason you were out of the house so much this last week,” Mom said. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“There was.” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Mom said, taking a sip of her root beer. “What happened?”

I slowly spun my own cup on the counter, watching condensation rings reflect the fluorescent lights. “I can’t really say, Mom. I wish I could, but…”

Mom’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“I just… I made a promise I can’t break, and because of that, I can’t really pursue things with Belle.”

Mom took another sip of her root beer. She looked at me like she was worried I’d gotten myself into trouble of some kind.

“I promise it’s nothing bad,” I said. “In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s something really good. A really good reason that’s keeping me from having a relationship with her ever again.”

Mom seemed to relax a little after that even though she still looked doubtful, like she wanted to ask me a million more questions, but thankfully she didn’t because Scrooge came by with our food, setting our plates in front of us, along with our favorite dipping sauces.

After Mom thanked him and he walked away, she said to me, “Well, I don’t know what all is going on, Nick, but I do know that you’re a good person and I trust you.”

Her words had a lump forming in my throat. It was hard to feel like a good person with Belle’s hurt expression on replay in my mind. “Thanks, Mom,” I managed.

“But I can also tell this is really upsetting you,” she continued. “I won’t ask too many questions, but I will tell you this. We lost your dad over ten years ago now.” Her voice broke a little as she said it and tears welled up in her eyes, but she went on. “Even with how hard it was to lose him, not one day goes by that I’m not thankful for all the time we had together. You should never let your feelings for someone go unspoken. Time is a precious thing.”

My chest felt tight as she talked about Dad. His absence was extra hard this time of year because he loved the Christmas season. I squeezed her hand. “I know, Mom, but I–”

“I know what you’re about to say,” she said. “That you don’t have a choice. That may be so, but I also know that there’s always a way, especially when it comes to the special people in our lives.” She squeezed my hand back. “There’s always a way, Nick. You just have to find one.”