A Christmas Sampler a Christmas Anthology by Andrea DiMaggio Cheryl's Story

Cheryl put her head down on the desk. She had been working for six hours, trying to hone her ‘final’ draft one last time. The computer screen bathed the room in an eerie glow.

The Laska home, London, Ontario…

“Mom…have you seen my gray hoodie?” Nate asked as he walked into the dining room. The look on his mother’s face seemed oddly upset, considering he’d only asked about laundry.

“Yes…it’s hanging on the back of one of the stools over there.” She pointed to the pass through where the breakfast bar was. The hoodie was draped over a stool, just like she said. He walked over and grabbed it before sitting down at the dining room table next to his sister Jane.

“Janey…would you mind. I’ve got some things I need to discuss with Nate, and you’ve already finished, okay?” Donna Laska said before turning to face her son. Her expression had softened somewhat but there was still an urgency in her tone, like something serious…maybe even dire…had happened.

“Sure, Mom. Nate…It’s okay.” She smiled a strange smile before getting up. She walked into the kitchen with her plate and he heard her walking upstairs. Turning to face his mother, he found her shaking her head, and her expression had changed once again; this time she looked a bit sad and even worried.

“Mom…what’s wrong?” Nate asked as he picked at the food on his plate; he wasn’t hungry to begin with and he was more interested in what she had to say.

“Honey…you know you can come to me with anything. Right?” He nodded and she held out a small wrinkled pharmacy bag which looked all too familiar to him.

“Why did you have this in your shirt? It fell out when I moved it off the counter.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, but her tone was calm and seemed almost soothing.

“Honey…this prescription is over six years old,” she said, producing the roundell of birth control pills; her prescription. “You’re taking an awful risk with this honey…please…I know you didn’t mean to…at least I hope you didn’t, but you took these, and you could end up in a lot of trouble.

“Mom…it’s not like you think.” Fear began to grip his heart as the truth was being wrenched from its safe hiding place.

“Nate…I know what this is all about.” He began to cry as the fear and the shame overwhelmed him. She had to know, but he was so afraid to tell her. She put her hand on his from across the table and smiled warmly; another odd reaction.

“You’re not as secretive as you think you are, honey. I know why you’ve got these pills.” He thought about lying, but she didn’t deserve that; she had raised both him and Janey by herself after their dad left them, and she had been, as they say, both mother and father to them. Whatever he was, he wasn’t going to be ungrateful or cruel. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head and smiled again.

“Nate…you’re sixteen and you don’t have a girlfriend…at least you don’t have a girlfriend like this…” She pointed to the pills.

"I know you care about Sara…I’d wondered about you two, but I know you’re not doing anything.” She reached down and pulled something out of her purse, which she had hidden under her chair. She handed it to him. A flash drive. A very familiar-looking flash drive.

“Mom… can explain.” He started but she smiled at him and he noticed her eyes had grown moist with tears.

“Honey…I thought this was my flashdrive from work…you really should get ones that aren’t identical to mine if you want privacy. What it means to be a girl...What did you write this for?” She smiled again and her look was as welcoming and forgiving and safe as he could remember.

“I…It’s a blog...I was…” He looked at the flash drive in his hands and burst into tears. Something about the safety of her tone removed the need for secrecy and the shame and guilt flowed out along with the relief.

“I read it…My name is Cheryl…that’s a very pretty name, honey. How long have you known?” That would have been his first question, but she beat him to it, and in a way that surprised him. Not ‘how long have you felt this way,’ or ‘how long have you been dressing in Janey’s clothes, but’ how long have you known?”

“Sssss….” He sobbed. She got up and went to the kitchen. Returning quickly, she handed him a bottle of Dasani which he drank eagerly while she squeezed his shoulder.

“Shhh….take your time…I’m not going anywhere,” she said, referring to something he had said in his writing.

“I hope she doesn’t leave me…I know she loves me and would never abandon me, but I am so afraid she’d leave me emotionally; like I’d stop being her child.”

“I…I didn’t want to tell you…..ssssinncceee Ddddadddy left….” He put his head down on the table and sobbed.

“I think we need to see a few people, honey…so we can get this all sorted out.” She lifted his face with both hands and kissed him on the lips softly like she used to when he and Janey were little.

“I am only sorry that you were so afraid I’d leave you. I love you, honey…that will never change, but I understand after your father left why you might worry.”

“It was my fault, mom….he found me in Janey’s room one day…oh mom…he beat me…not hard…he only hit me twice, and it didn’t hardly hurt…” Nate had become used to minimizing his pain; his father had done more than hit him…he had rejected him as well.

“But he hurt you, honey. And he left you feeling like it was your fault…” Donna had never spoken ill of their father but Nate needed to know.

“He had a girlfriend…he left with her and moved out of the province. I don’t even know where he is; I tried to find out, honey…I really did.” It was Donna’s turn to climb on the guilt carousel; her price of admission was her failure to prevent her husband from cheating and abandoning his two precious children.

“Mom! Stop it!” Donna turned to see Janey standing in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes were filled with tears, but they weren’t sad.

“He left because he was selfish and irresponsible, and we talked about all of that when we saw Dr. Jansen, right?” She walked over and hugged her mother, almost forcefully as if to wrench the guilt from her.

“I…I know…you’re right….he hurt me so bad for so long.”

“He hurt you and me and Nate and it’s his fault, not ours.” If Donna was welcoming and conciliatory, Janey was ‘take charge’ and direct.

“We’re gonna get through this just like we got through everything else, okay. You’re the best mother anyone could ever hope for; I am confident that you can raise another daughter, even if it is a challenge, mom.” She walked around to where Nate sat.

“Hi…my name is Janey, but you already know that. What’s your name?” Nate looked up at her in embarrassment.

“No sister of mine is going to be ashamed of who she is…ever, okay.” She was crying; mostly out of frustration, but some from relief as she saw that her feelings about her sibling…feelings she had kept to herself for nearly six years…were true.

“What’s your name, sis?” She still was crying, but she had grown calmer and her voice almost echoed the quiet welcoming tone of her mother.

“Ssshhhh…Cheryl?” Nate practically sobbed.

“Hmmm…just a second.” She ran to the bookshelf in the living room and quickly returned, leafing through a paperback.

“Cheryl…from the French…’Darling,’” She read as she stepped next to her brother once again.

“It suits you…and Nate…not Nathaniel, but Nate…how about Natalia…like the lady on CSI:Miami… ’New Birth!’” She smiled at the figure before her and then turned to her mother.

“Well…let’s just think about things…nothing has been decided yet, okay?”

"Oooo...oh...kay." Both siblings looked disappointed until they saw the smile on their mother's face and knew...everything had been decided.

The class came to order as the teacher smiled and used her hand in a broad gesture.

“Kids…I’d like to introduce you to our new students. Rose Armetta is a transfer from Sarnia; her family just moved here this past August.” And then the teacher pointed to the student in the front row who was wearing a hoodie…a pink hoodie.

“And here is a new student you already know...This is Cheryl…Cheryl Laska.”

Next: Kevin's Story