Midnight Before Christmas Read Free Page A

either. Maybe not since he lost the job at the hardware store—his fifth in a year.
    Jeez. He pounded himself on the forehead. No wonder Bonnie wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t let him see his boy. He looked like death warmed over. If he’d bumped into himself on the street, he probably wouldn’t let Tommy talk to him, either. Just a bum, his son would think. Some worn-out, washed-up rummy. Keep your kids away. Don’t let them be infected by the thick smell of flop sweat. Don’t let them be contaminated by the man who reeks of failure.
    He picked up the shot glass and downed it. The liquor burned his throat, coating his stomach with a new layer of confidence and self-respect. The sudden warmth surged through his arms, his legs, his head.
    He felt better. But how long would it last?
    One thing was certain—he wasn’t welcome at Joe’s anymore. Where else could he go? There weren’t many places open this time of the morning, and on Christmas Eve, no less. Most people weren’t bar-hopping on the twenty-fourth of December. Even most rummies had someplace else to go. Even the most pathetic drunks usually had a family.
    But not Carl. Not anymore.
    I’m all alone, he thought. The words were a relentless pounding inside his brain. I’m all alone.
    He banged the empty shot glass down on the table, making it rock back and forth on its not-on-the-level legs. It wasn’t right. Not right at all. Sure, he’d been going through a rough patch. Times were hard. But that was no reason for Bonnie to bail out. That was no reason to take away his son, his Tommy, the only thing that still mattered in his life.
    He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a creased and slightly torn photo. Tommy and him, three Christmases ago. They were standing in front of the tree, Tommy in his jammies going ape over the Dinosaur Mountain play set Santa had brought him. Carl sitting just beside him, grinning from ear to ear like the proud daddy he was.
    Three Christmases ago. And in three short years, the whole damn world had changed. Tommy didn’t even look like this now.
    Carl picked up the shot glass and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall on the opposite side, leaving a dark, dripping stain on the fading wallpaper.
    Joe hustled out of the shadows. “I want you gone, Carl! Now!”
    “I’m goin’. I’m goin’.”
    “I’ll give you thirty seconds. Then I’m calling the cops.”
    “The cops?”
    “Yeah, the cops. You remember them, don’t you, Carl? The boys in blue. That nice shiny uniform you used to wear? Well, they’re gonna be in here to haul your butt to the pokey if you’re still around in thirty seconds!” He checked his watch. “Make that twenty.”
    “I’m gone,” Carl muttered. “Thanks for everything.”
    He shoved the photo back in his wallet, threw some money on the table, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. His arm twinged as he twisted it back into the coat sleeve, but the whiskey had deadened the pain just enough to make it bearable.
    He stepped onto the sidewalk and was nearly bowled over by shoppers rushing both ways at once. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Of course they were, Carl thought. Everyone has places to go, people to be with. Everyone but me.
    He spotted a group of carolers on the opposite corner, teenagers mostly. They were singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” Whatever happened to the classic Christmas carols—“Silent Night” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem”? Nothing was what it was supposed to be these days. Nothing worked right.
    He would have to fix things, that was all.
    He remembered the look on Bonnie’s face when she finally told him Tommy wasn’t at home. Sad, pathetic, desperate. No doubt in his mind—she was telling the truth.
    But if he wasn’t home, where was he? Neither he nor Bonnie had parents living in the area.
    Day care? It was pretty pathetic, thinking she would put the kid in day care on Christmas Eve, but that had