Waiting for a Superman

A distressed woman and her son wait for a very important arrival on a very important day.

His little breath was fogging up the window and his tiny hands left chilly prints on the pane. On the other side of the window the darkened street was blanketed in purple snow. Fire crackled in the hearth, and under the narrow Christmas tree the glitter on the fur of the tree skirt sparkled with the flickering light. Carmen sat in the middle of her couch with a blanket over her legs watching the Charlie Brown special. Leaning against the edge of the couch was a half-finished bottle of red wine. She rubbed the thickness from her eyes and glanced at the watch on her wrist.

“Luiz,” she said to the boy at the window. “Luiz, come sit with me.”

“But I’ll miss him,” Luiz said without turning.

That useless piece of shit isn’t coming, she thought. Carmen rubbed her eyes again and stood and went into the kitchen with her wine. She inhaled the last of it, dropped the bottle in the trash can, and held herself up by the edge of the counter. It was nearly nine. He promised by seven, seven-thirty at the latest. Luiz was waiting for him and she had been stupid enough to tell him that he’d come.

Anger boiled in her belly. Carmen clamped a hand over her mouth. She needed to hit something. Needed to throw something. Carmen dug the bottle out of the trash and slammed it on the ground. It bounced with a loud crack and split the tile, but the bottle did not shatter. It merely bounced and rolled away under the kitchen table where a half-finished and pointless dinner for three grew cold and ill under a pale kitchen light.

Carmen wiped her eyes. She quietly retrieved the bottle and dumped it in the trash with limp fingers. Stupid girl, she thought. Now what did that bring you? Ramone’s steadfast voice, his disappointed eyes. Always so patient. Her dress was a pathetic mess, and she’d used too much salt in the potatoes. She always did. They were inedible. Quietly, Carmen cleaned the kitchen table and threw the food away. It was pointless saving leftovers. She didn’t want to watch them grow mold in her fridge.

At the sink the hot water ran over her rings and little silver wristwatch and her gentle hands. Were they already growing wrinkles? It had to just be the water. Carmen wiped her eyes again. Stupid Ramone and his stupid promises. She wished she’d never met him and never had his son. It was like a miracle at first, meeting him. How they ran together that spring morning in the park while all the world shivered under the dew. The splendor in the grass in the afternoon sun and the broad blue sky that swallowed them whole. Now what? Five years a slave tending the house with an iron ball shackled to her ankle. Stupid girl. Momma was right.

Carmen’s hands were in the sink. They stopped moving. The water was foamy and deep. She stared at her glinting reflection and her thoughts ran imperceptibly far away, unnamable, fleeting like the unconscious thoughts she had before bed. Luiz, let’s go upstairs. Oh! A simple bath. I didn’t think he would. I don’t know how really. Ramone, are you crying? Like I used to cry every night, waiting for your stupid ass to come home, pat Luiz, and just flop on top of me like I owe you it? Save it. Don’t touch me. Get out of my house.

Carmen’s grip tightened around the utensils in the water. She squeezed hard, too hard, hoping that through sheer strength she could bend them in half.

A familiar phone chime. Her heart leapt into her throat. Carmen rushed for the towel and dried her hands. “Luiz!” she shouted. “Bring me my phone!”

Luiz was in the kitchen in a second. Carmen seized it. Ramone.

“Okay go watch TV,” she said, hustling him out of the kitchen. “Turn it up so you can hear it. Go, go.”

Luiz was gone in a moment. Carmen answered the phone and waited until the TV volume went up to a near excruciating level. She went out to the back porch.

“Ramone,” she said, “you’re in for it this time.”

“Hey,” came a calming voice. “I know. I messed up.”

“Nine fucking p.m. Where the fuck are you?”

“I got another call as I was clocking out. I’m sorry. I should have turned it down.”

“No, no. Go ahead. Take another one. Just stay out the whole night taking calls. You want to go ahead and visit Jasmine while you’re out? Maybe swing through and see Manuela, too?”

“Carmen—”

“Uh-uh,” Carmen said, waving her finger in the air. “Uh-uh, no no no no no no. You don’t get to Carmen me. It’s fucking Christmas, Ramone. Christmas, and your son is sitting there at the fucking window waiting for his dad to drive up in his stupid car with the lights going so he can run up and give him a hug. When mommy picks him up from school, it’s like I’m a fucking taxi. He doesn’t say a thing. But it’s such a big deal when dad comes home. Suddenly when dad’s around it’s like every day is Christmas. He just loves you so much. The dad who’s always fucking late and breaking his heart. Well guess what, Ramone? Today is actually Christmas, and you’re not here, and he’s been sitting at that window all night waiting for you. Fuck you. You fucking asshole. Don’t come home. Don’t even think about it. I’m changing the locks. In fact, I already changed the locks. I called a locksmith.”

“Oh?” came the other voice. “One that works on Christmas?”

“Mm-hmm, and then he fucked me over the kitchen table. You hear me? He fucked me brainless.” She held the phone in front of her mouth and spoke slowly. “I said he fucked me like crazy, Ramone.”

A short staticky quiet fell through from the other end. “Was this a jolly old fat guy, with a big belly and rosy cheeks?”

Carmen bit her lip and shook her head. “Big belly. And a huge dick.”

“Did he go ho-ho-ho the whole time, too?”

Carmen covered her mouth to stop from laughing. She couldn’t help wheezing, just a little. A thin laugh came from the other end of the phone.

“Baby,” he said, tender and sad, “I really screwed up. I did. I took a call I shouldn’t have, and I can’t apologize enough for that. Someone needed my help, and… No. No excuses from me. I shouldn’t have taken it. I just got done. I’m going back to the office, and then I’m coming right home. Nothing is stopping me. I’ll be in around ten. And if I’m not, you can call that locksmith back.”

“Oh?” Carmen said. She leaned against the kitchen door. “Then I guess he’ll have to be my new husband.”

“Come on, you can do better than Santa Claus.”

She finally laughed, only to immediately cover her mouth again. “Fuck you,” she whispered into the phone. “Fuck you. I’m gonna kill you when you get home, Ramone.”

“Is Luiz still up? Can I talk to him?”

Carmen opened the door and peeked into the living room. Luiz was half-slumped on the couch between the pillows.

“He’s asleep,” she said, closing the door. “You missed Charlie Brown, too.”

“Did you record it for me?”

“Of course I did,” she said, twirling her hair in her finger. “I do every year.”

A long pause came from the other side. “Things are going to change,” said Ramone. “This isn’t going to happen anymore. I’m going to do better for you two. I promise.”

Carmen wiped her eyes. “I’m still pissed at you. Don’t expect to get any tonight.”

“I was expecting to sleep in my car. Seeing as you changed the locks and all.”

“Fuck you,” she said with a smile. “Come home.”

Carmen went back inside and brushed down her dress. As she crossed the kitchen she stepped on the split tile and sighed. It took only a few minutes to dig out the ancient Gorilla Glue tube and press the glue into the cracks. It should set by the time he got home. In the living room, the TV was showing the 1964 Rudolph movie. Luiz’s little lips were half open and his eyes were just closed—the same way he slept when he was a baby.

Carmen gathered him in her arms and walked him upstairs and tucked him into bed. She smoothed his tousled hair and kissed him on the cheek, then walked downstairs. She set the TV volume on low, sat on the couch for only a second, and then took her blanket and a pillow over to the window. She sat there and waited for a familiar set of lights, watching the snow fall in thin waves, her breath fogging the glass, her small hand pressed into the pane.