Chapter Text
Frank knew he wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. He’d known for a while now, didn’t take a lot of math to figure that one out. The real problem, however, was breaking the news to his children, knowing he would have to let them down once again. And with every day of his leave that slowly ticked by, still needing to tell them only felt worse.
Every night when he went to bed with Maria tucked close to his chest, he promised himself he’d tell the kids the next day. But then every morning when he saw them happy and laughing at breakfast, his plan immediately faltered. He didn’t want to cause that familiar disappointment in their eyes. Didn’t want to have to tell them the same thing again. Yet half of his one-month leave was already over, mid-September air slowly turning crisp, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation much longer.
“You need to tell them, baby,” Maria whispered into his ear after Lisa and Frankie had gone to bed one night. She was curled up against him on the couch, a soft blanket draped over her legs. The TV’s light flickered across her face as her eyes settled on him, gentle but serious. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be for them.”
Frank sighed quietly and tipped his head back toward the ceiling. His eyes closed briefly as if that would make the issue disappear. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice strained from the attempt to contain his frustration. Wasn’t Maria’s fault. Only his own. “Yeah, I know. Just don’t want ‘em to spend the next two weeks disappointed, is all.”
Maria’s hand found his upper arm, gently squeezing once. “Hey. You know it’s not your fault, right?” Frank could practically hear the frown in her words.
He glanced back at the TV without even really watching the movie that was playing. Only images flickering by, no meanings attached to them. It felt like his fault. He’d chosen to be a Marine, knowing how much he’d miss of his family’s life when he was away on deployment. Holidays. Birthdays. Frankie’s games. Lisa’s first period. (Although, on second thought, he was glad he hadn’t had to deal with that last one. Wouldn’t have known what the fuck he was supposed to do anyway.)
When Frank didn’t respond, Maria snuggled a little closer to him. “What if we celebrate Christmas early this year?” she suggested in a whisper, head tilted to the side. A soft smile touched her lips as she continued. “Without the presents, I mean. They’ll have to wait ‘til December for that because I’m absolutely not gonna get everything on time.”
Frank’s eyebrows pulled together as he finally looked over at his wife. She was so beautiful, face softened by the glow radiating off the screen. Her side part had that characteristic swoop to it that shadowed her left cheek, and the brown hair tickled his skin whenever she moved. But Christ, she was smart, too. Always had been. The one who kept him sane.
“Don’t think we’d get a tree either,” Frank replied dryly. Nonetheless, he was thinking about it. Really thinking about it. Christmas with his family.
Maria scoffed at him, chin nudging his shoulder. “Think we might still have the plastic one in the shed somewhere. It’s not that pretty, but it’s better than nothing, right?” She returned his gaze and waited as the movie played on in the background, muffled sounds drowned out by his thoughts.
Another small sigh. Then Frank nodded. “What the hell, why not?” The idea made him smile. It wasn’t just his kids who were sad when he couldn’t be home for Christmas. He missed them too. More than he already did when he was over there. “We’ll need some almond flour, though. And sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles.”
The blanket rustled as Maria sat up, beaming when she saw his smile. They were getting rarer with every tour he did. “I’ll go out and buy some first thing tomorrow.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him chuckle lowly. God, how much he loved this woman. Frank wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in to kiss her properly. He wanted to stay here forever.
The next morning, Maria left for the store right after breakfast. It was a Saturday, meaning the kids were home, debating something loudly in the living room while Frank did the dishes. The noise didn’t bother him. Honestly, he loved to listen to their little voices. Even when they were fighting over who’d get to pick the movie tonight.
“Dad!” Lisa stormed into the kitchen, her brother right at her heels. “Frankie says it’s his turn to pick a movie, but he already got to choose last week. And I can’t watch Toy Story for the 50th time in a row!”
“That’s just because you’ve got bad taste!” Frankie replied, glaring at his older sister. It was such a stupid argument to have. And yet, Frank loved to see them like that. Not because he liked to see them fight. He didn’t. But moments like this made him feel normal. Like a regular dad. Like he wasn’t gone most of the time.
Placing another plate on the rack, he glanced over at his kids. The sight almost made him laugh. “Sorry to tell you, buddy, but your sister’s right. You did already pick last week. I remember that pretty vividly.”
Lisa pulled a triumphant face, pointing at Frankie. “See! I told you!”
The boy pouted faintly even though he’d already known the truth. “Whatever.” He leaned back against the kitchen’s door frame where pencil lines showed the kids’ height at different ages. Although the dispute was settled, neither of the children moved to leave again, lingering around the kitchen near their dad instead.
Since he didn’t mind their presence, Frank returned to cleaning the dishes, the water already only lukewarm anymore. A few minutes passed in silence except for the faint sloshing in the sink and the squeaky sound of the sponge meeting the plates. Eventually, Lisa appeared to his left, arms resting against the counter.
“Daddy?”
Frank continued with the dishes, only humming quietly to indicate he’d heard her and was listening. Lisa hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder at her brother. Like she was looking for reassurance. Bracing for something. Then she sighed lightly. “We know something’s up, daddy.”
That made him pause, eyebrows drawn together. “What’re you talkin’ about, Lis?” Sometimes, he wondered if his girl was too smart for her own good. Eleven years old and already picking up on the things he tried to hide from her.
Lisa shrugged. “Dunno. You’re just acting… weird. Like you’re not telling us something.” Another glance at Frankie. “Mom, too. Are you… are you two fighting?”
Frank’s heart stumbled a little at the question. Was that what they’d been thinking? Oh man, he’d really messed that one up. Fucking idiot. Moving quickly so he could give his kids his full attention, he put the last plate on the rack and pulled the plug, the water gurgling as it drained from the sink. “No, baby girl, no,” he told her immediately, turning around to face Lisa and Frankie properly. “Your mom and I are fine. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout us.”
Both children looked a bit uncertain, exchanging another glance. “What’s it then?” Frankie asked carefully. He too had clearly noticed something was wrong, arms crossed a little too tightly in front of his chest.
Frank exhaled slowly as he grabbed a towel to dry his hands. Well, he couldn’t really tell them it was nothing, could he? That wouldn’t fix their worry. And he really didn’t want them to worry. Not more than they already had. “I, uh, I needa tell you somethin’,” he admitted.
Those words were definitely the wrong choice, both kids paling immediately. Like they were expecting him to tell them he had cancer. Jesus, he was horrible at this. Talking had no business suddenly being this difficult. “I… I won’t be home for Christmas this year. Again.”
Silence filled the kitchen. At first, neither child reacted at all. Then, slowly, they looked at each other, frowning slightly. “Yeah, dad, we know,” Lisa replied, her voice quieter and slower than usual. She sounded sad, sure, but definitely not surprised. Which in turn surprised Frank, confusion making his eyes squint. “You’re leaving again next month, right? That means you’ll be gone for another six or seven months. So, no Christmas. We know that.”
Honestly, he should’ve probably expected that. Of course they’d known. They were smart kids. But his heart ached deep inside his chest at the thought of them having to do this kind of math in the first place. Things shouldn’t be this way. He knew that. Couldn’t really change it, though. “Oh.” Frank leaned against the kitchen sink, lips pressed together until they turned pale. “Right. And you’re not disappointed?”
Frankie looked almost offended at that suggestion, head snapping back like even the idea alone made him recoil. “’Course we’re disappointed, dad!”
Lisa shot her brother a warning glare. “Frankie! Don’t say that!”
“What?” He stared back at her with the same intensity and narrowed eyes. “It’s true, after all. Would be nice to have dad home for Christmas just once. It’s been years!”
Lisa’s small hands tightened into fists at her sides like she was resisting the urge to shake some sense into Frankie. “Yeah, but it’s not his fault. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be here with us.” There was a small moment of hesitation before she turned her gaze to Frank. “Right, dad?”
The way both kids suddenly looked at him broke his heart, their eyes all wide and anxious. As if they genuinely feared there might be a chance he just didn’t want to celebrate with them. Didn’t want to be around them. “No, Lis, of course not.” Frank dragged a hand down his face in exhaustion, rubbing his jaw. “I’d love to be here more. Hate to miss so much of both your lives.”
Frankie didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. No surprise there. “Then why do you do it, dad? Why don’t you do something else? Something here?”
Finding the right response for that was hard because how could he explain it to his kids without sounding like an asshole? After all, he couldn’t tell them that he sometimes felt like killing was all he was good for. That the violence occasionally soothed some dark, ugly part of him. That he craved the routine and structure that came with being a Marine. That the guys he served with were his family too.
Frank cleared his throat to buy himself more time, eyes darting away for a second before he could face his children again. “Because this is what I gotta do.” He knew it was a terrible excuse, and it absolutely wasn’t the first time he’d had this kind of conversation. But usually, Maria was the one to ask that question. It was a lot harder with them. “This is who I am. I’m a Marine. And by doing what I do, I can try and keep you safe from what’s out there.” Wasn’t a lie. Simply wasn’t the entire truth either.
“But you’re also our dad,” Lisa pointed out quietly. Like a tiny blade finding its way through his ribs and straight into his heart. Her arms came up to wrap around her own stomach. “Doesn’t that count for something, too?”
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was interrupted when Maria slid in through the side door, holding a paper shopping bag. Closing the door behind her, she hadn’t noticed the kids yet. “I got the flour and the sprinkles, baby. But they only had the rainbow-colored ones.” Maria finally looked up and froze halfway to the kitchen, staring at the children who were staring right back at her. Her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as her gaze flickered between her son and daughter like she was trying to gauge how much they already knew.
Frankie frowned. “What do we need rainbow sprinkles for?”
Now Maria looked at her husband almost a little accusingly. “You haven’t told them yet? Frank!”
The confusion in the kitchen only seemed to increase at that. “Told us what?” Lisa asked, wearing the exact same expression as her younger brother. Had they always looked this similar? “You mean that dad won’t be home for Christmas? We already know that.”
Maria blinked a few times, looking just as taken aback by that information as Frank had been. “Well, yeah, that’s part of it, but…” She paused, staring at her husband in disbelief again. “Why haven’t you told them yet?”
Frank sighed exaggeratedly. “I was getting there,” he claimed dryly, arms crossed in front of his chest. Honestly, if the kids hadn’t approached him first, he probably still wouldn’t have told them about Christmas. He didn’t need to look at Maria to know she saw right through him. She’d criticized him before for being as emotionally intelligent as a damn rock – her words, not his.
Both his children and his wife now looked at him expectantly. Great. “We had an idea,” he began only for Maria to clear her throat, head tilted slightly to the side. He sighed again. “Fine. Your mom had an idea. Since I won’t be home for Christmas, she suggested we could celebrate early this year.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Like, today.”
The kids were suspiciously quiet at first as they processed his words. Frank held his breath, waiting. While Lisa’s face gave away almost nothing, Frankie’s eyebrows shifted from being pinched together to slowly lifting inch by inch. Was the kid confused? Surprised? Frank wasn’t sure. Not until excitement, clear as day, suddenly made the boy’s eyes light up. And just like that, the tightness and guilt inside Frank’s chest finally eased a little.
“Does that mean we get presents today?” Frankie asked, grinning widely. The previous disappointment and anger directed at his dad seemed to have disappeared completely. Sometimes it was good the kid had such a short attention span.
Maria chuckled under her breath, ruffling her son’s hair with her free hand. “No, Frankie. Not ‘til Christmas morning. That part stays the same.” The kid pouted immediately. “But we were gonna bake some cookies and put up the tree. Maybe watch a Christmas movie later as well, if you’re up for it.”
Lisa, always a little more hesitant in her joy than Frankie, brightened up at that too. “Since it’s my turn to pick tonight anyway, does that mean I get to decide what Christmas movie we watch?”
Frank snorted quietly, somewhat delighted by her priorities, but he nodded after exchanging a quick glance with his wife. “Sure. Long as it’s not that fucking Polar Express, we’re good.” Maria shot him a look at the curse word. “Sorry, I meant ‘freaking,’ of course.”
Definitely not believing his apology, Lisa giggled. Actually giggled. Frank hadn’t heard that sound in a very long time. Couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Deal. I think I’ll pick Home Alone then. That’s still the best one,” she decided with a playfully serious nod.
Her brother groaned at her choice, mumbling something that sounded a lot like disagreement. Still, the boy seemed to know that was no argument worth having. Lisa had already won before the topic of Christmas had even been on the table. Best thing to do was just to accept it before she could come up with a worse movie idea.
Still smiling, Frank clapped once to settle things. “Alright. Go wash your hands, kids. I’ll prep everything for the cookies, yeah?” He didn’t need to tell them twice. They were already rushing toward the bathroom before he’d even finished speaking.
Frank shook his head in amusement as he turned back to Maria. “Thanks, baby.” He nodded at the bag she was still holding. Then he crossed the distance between them, hands coming up to rest on her hips like they always did. A habit formed over many years of holding her close whenever he could. “Think you just made their day. That was a really good idea.”
Maria smiled up at him, one of her arms weaving around his neck. With her fingers softly combing through the cropped-short hair at the back of his head, she nodded. “Yeah, I know.” A mischievous smirk that made his knees weak every time he saw it replaced her regular smile. “It was my idea, after all.”
That made Frank laugh, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he asked quietly, leaning in more closely. “That’s how it is, huh? You callin’ dips now? Wanna claim the success all for yourself?” Maria tilted her face up a little, still smiling with her lashes lowered. Their lips almost touched, and Frank was just about to kiss her when a quiet eww interrupted them.
“Stop it!” Lisa told them, covering her eyes with her hands in a very overdramatic way. Frankie, right at her heels, looked equally horrified. It almost made both their parents laugh right then and there, a small tremble going through Maria as she forced the chuckle back down. “You’re being really disgusting again!”
Hands still on Maria’s hips, Frank glanced at his daughter with his eyebrows raised and a teasing smirk. “Are we now? Well, seems like a you problem to me, Lis. ‘Cause I got no issue with being disgusting like that.” Nonetheless, he only gave Maria a tiny peck on the lips before letting go again, taking the shopping bag from her with a playful wink. Over a decade and it still got her blushing. He loved her so goddamn much.
Still looking slightly traumatized, Lisa and Frankie were led away by their mom to clear off the dining table, both of them muttering complaints about how their parents were kissing too much lately. Frank lifted the shopping bag up onto the counter and began unpacking it. Maria hadn’t simply bought the flour and sprinkles but also some eggs, butter, vanilla extract, a lemon, and an orange. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in quiet affection. Of course she still knew the whole damn recipe and all the ingredients without him needing to tell her again. That was simply the kind of person she was.
Frank opened one of the cupboards above the counter and grabbed the same bowl he always used for making the cookie dough. It was big and made of metal. Simple, really. But he hadn’t seen it in a while. Hadn’t made Christmas cookies for his kids in years. He hated how wrong that felt.
After washing his own hands, Frank started working on the dough. Normally, he would’ve simply made enough for one batch. During the Christmas season, they tended to make multiple different kinds of cookies over several weekends, so one batch of each was usually enough. This time, though, he knew these cookies would be the only ones they’d have. And his kids only ever got this specific kind when he was home. When he made them himself. His mom’s recipe. So, in the end, he opted for two batches. Just to be safe. That way, the cookies would last them at least a few days.
He’d only gotten as far as dumping the five cups of almond flour into the bowl when Lisa reappeared at his side, slightly leaning her head against his arm. “Can I help you, daddy?” she asked him with that soft smile of hers. Last time Frank had made these cookies, she’d asked him the same thing. Only back then, she’d been about ten inches smaller, and both her front teeth had been missing.
“Sure, baby girl.” Frank reached for the lemon and held it out to her. “Can you wash this and then grate the skin off? Only the yellow part, though. There should be a grater in the big drawer, I think.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the drawer before inspecting the ingredients again. “Oh, and could you grab me the sugar while you’re at it? Think your mom still keeps it in that blue box.”
Lisa nodded eagerly, taking the lemon and pulling the drawer open. While she rummaged around in it to find the grater, Frank started cutting the stick of butter into smaller pieces and dropping them into the bowl.
“Where’s your brother?” he asked her, clumsily attempting to roll up his sleeves without getting any butter on them. They kept slipping back down regardless, making him give up on it with an annoyed groan. A glance over his shoulder told him Frankie and Maria weren’t in the living room anymore. “Little rascal’s never that quiet.”
Lisa snorted at his comment, closing the drawer after finally retrieving the grater and opening another cabinet on the lookout for sugar next. “Don’t think he’s capable of that,” she muttered, earning a chuckle from Frank. Then she tilted her head in the direction of the shed outside. “He and mom are trying to find the plastic tree. I just felt more like helping you than facing the spiders.”
The blue box Frank had mentioned before appeared in his field of vision when Lisa set it down in front of him. “There you go, daddy.” Her smaller hands found his sleeves, pulling them up over his elbows one after the other without him even needing to ask. She picked the lemon back up, holding it under the faucet to clean it.
“Thanks, Lis,” Frank murmured, leaning in to press a small kiss to her hair. Lisa smiled to herself but nudged his side with her elbow, nonetheless. Pretending she was getting too old for her dad to show affection like that while still enjoying it because it was always so rare anyway.
For a moment, they worked quietly side by side. Lisa grated the lemon, collecting the scraped off skin in another, smaller bowl. Frank meanwhile measured a cup of sugar and then cracked two eggs into the mix. After a couple of minutes, Lisa reached for the small radio sitting on the windowsill in front of them. She’d never really liked the silence, preferring some kind of background noise because she claimed it helped her stay focused.
“That okay?” she checked as the music started playing softly, and Frank only nodded in agreement. He’d gotten used to the silence after long nights spent on patrol out in the desert. Yet, he was like his daughter. He enjoyed having something to listen to other than his own thoughts.
They didn’t talk much, both of them concentrating on their individual tasks. Neither of them seemed to be bothered by it. It was more about existing together. Sharing space with each other. Doing something they hadn’t done in so many years. Just a father and his daughter making cookie dough together. It was moments like this that made everything worth it. Every bit of pain he’d ever suffered was washed away by the sight of his Lisa grating that stupid lemon, brown hair falling into her face where it had slipped free from behind her ear, chewing on her lip as she worked. He wanted to stay here forever.
“How’s the lemon zest coming?” Frank inquired eventually, adding a teaspoon of vanilla extract to the dough.
Lisa shrugged, lifting the grater away so he could take a look at the amount already in the bowl. He leaned over, humming in appreciation. “Yeah, I think that’s good. Gonna steal that from you for a second.” Frank took the bowl, gently pouring the contents into his own. Then he grabbed the orange, setting it down in front of his daughter. “Think you could do the same thing with this?”
Another soft smile. Lisa nodded, already taking the orange to go wash it. “Yeah, sure.”
Now came the part Frank hated most. Actually kneading the dough. He’d love to use the mixer for that, but his mother had taught him it was always better when you did it by hand. Gave you better control over the texture or something. Only problem was, he absolutely despised the texture. Made him want to rip his skin off. With a deep sigh, he put his hands in the bowl, immediately pulling a face. “Oh, Jesus,” he complained. “That’s awful.”
Lisa laughed a little at him, but she didn’t disagree. Of course she didn’t. Annoying little sensory issues were only one of the many traits she’d inherited from him. “Yeah, I don’t like it either. It’s so sticky and weird.” Although she wasn’t the one wrist-deep in this mess, she shuddered slightly. “Terrible, really.”
It took multiple minutes before the dough eventually became less “sticky and weird,” turning a saturated yellow color. Lisa added in the orange zest, and then she hopped onto the counter to watch Frank as he worked on the dough, kicking her legs a little to the song playing on the radio. After a few seconds, she started singing along as well.
“You’re a shining star. No matter who you are.”
Frank grinned at that, pausing his work to join her. “Shining bright to see. What you could truly be. What you could truly be.” Dough still sticking to his fingers, he pointed at Lisa, the sound of her laughter mixing with the song. She might not admit it out loud, but she loved it when he was acting silly like this. When he was simply her dad for a little while. And honestly, so did he. It was all he ever wanted to be.
While she continued singing quietly and a little off-key, Frank focused back on the kneading. He faintly registered sounds of complaint coming from the house’s entryway as Maria and Frankie dragged in multiple boxes. Sounded a lot like they’d found the tree. Probably also a bunch of decorations to go along with it. He was convinced they had far too many, but Maria only ever kept buying more. Over the years, he’d learned to simply let her do so as long as she agreed to be in charge of the whole Christmas tree decorating thing. That was a mess he refused to touch.
Frank listened to his wife and son struggling to put up the tree in the living room with the radio and Lisa’s voice in the background. To him, this was what home felt like. A house filled with love and life and just a hint of bickering. Not that he’d ever tell anyone such a sappy thing. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.
Once the dough had turned into one big smooth yellowish ball, Frank opened his mouth to say something, but Lisa was already holding out a big piece of saran wrap for him. He huffed out a breath. “You read my mind, sweetheart,” he told her, accepting the plastic foil from her to cover the dough with it. As soon as it was all wrapped up, he set it down on the counter and immediately washed his hands to get rid of the fat and stickiness. It really was a miracle how blood hardly bothered him, but cookie dough felt like evil incarnate.
“Alright.” He dried off his hands and then put the ball of dough in the fridge. “Gotta let it rest for half an hour. You wanna go ahead and pick out the cookie cutters?” Frank glanced dreadfully toward the living room where Maria’s laughter echoed off the walls. “I’ll check on the tree situation real quick.”
“Good luck with that,” Lisa grinned, jumping off the counter again to hunt down her favorite cookie cutters. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d go for a lot of different dinosaur ones. They too seemed to keep multiplying. “Mom’s a little crazy when it comes to the tree.”
That, Frank still remembered very clearly. Their first Christmas together, he’d attempted to do something nice for Maria and put up the tree all on his own. She’d been about three months pregnant at the time, constantly tired and nauseous. And yet, she’d somehow found the energy to yell at him for a full fifteen minutes because apparently, he’d put the ornaments on all wrong. He’d learned his lesson right then and there. That was exactly the reason why the tree was now her domain instead of his.
Nonetheless, he went to check on Maria and Frankie in the living room. They were currently arguing about whether or not the boy had put too much red on one side (he definitely had), the plastic tree standing a little crooked. Since he valued his life, Frank refrained from offering his help.
“You guys doin’ okay over here?” he asked, way too amused by their wild gesturing. Aside from the red patch his son had created, the tree didn’t look too bad. There was a string of fairy lights wrapped around it, bright sparkles amongst the evergreen. Familiar red and golden baubles hung from the branches. But Frank also noticed a few smaller ornaments he’d never seen before. A paper star garland. Clumsily painted pinecones. Colorful beads strung together to form snowflakes. Looked a hell of a lot like his kids had made those themselves. And he hadn’t been there for that. He tried not to think about that too much. Ignored the sickening sting low in his stomach.
Maria looked over at him in surprise but then nodded with a gentle smile. “Yeah, we’re good.” She glanced at Frankie who was now begrudgingly easing off the red baubles. Frank did not envy his son. Decorating for Christmas with Maria was its own sort of hell. One he’d only narrowly escaped unscathed himself. “Even better once the tree is decorated more evenly. He really is your kid. No eye for this kinda thing.”
Frank scoffed. “Yeah, that’s my boy.” He shook his head lightly, affection clear as day in his eyes. Neither he nor his son had the patience for decorating more evenly. “Maybe you shoulda tried to convince Lisa to help you instead.”
“Hey!” Frankie complained, eyebrows wrinkled in offense. “I heard that.”
With an apologetic smile, Frank ruffled his son’s hair. “I was only kidding. You’re doing a great job, kiddo. And your mom thinks so too. Right?” That seemed to satisfy the boy even though he tried to escape his father’s hand with a grin before focusing back on the tree again.
“Alright. Guess I’mma leave it to the experts then.” Frank gently brushed Maria’s arm with the back of his hand as he passed her in order to return to the kitchen. “I’ll call you once the dough is ready, yeah?”
Both of them nodded before they dove into another debate, this time regarding the level of crookedness of the tree. Frank decided he didn’t want to be a part of that, quickly retreating to the safety of the kitchen.
Lisa had already gathered a good amount of cookie cutters on the counter. Just as he’d guessed, a huge chunk of them were dinosaurs. Frank didn’t know what it was, but she’d always loved them for some reason. Had even made those tiny noises every time she’d played with her plastic dinosaurs when she’d been younger. Nowadays, she was more focused on telling everyone about how they actually used to have feathers. He figured she could be interested in worse things. Like boys, for example. Or girls. Didn’t really matter to him. Dinosaurs were the best option.
“You do know dinosaurs aren’t exactly Christmassy, right?”
A little startled by his return, Lisa flinched, looking at him over her shoulder. Then she shrugged. “A lot of people eat turkey or chicken for Christmas. Birds are the closest living relatives to dinosaurs. I think that makes them Christmassy enough.”
Sometimes, the kid really surprised him, little smartass that she was. “Well, if you say so, Lis,” he gave in jokingly, stepping closer to pull her into a hug. Frank gently kissed the top of her head, feeling her relax against him. His son was usually way too fidgety for this, but not Lisa. She loved a good hug.
“You okay, daddy?” she asked, voice a little muffled against his chest. He smiled, but luckily, she couldn’t see the sadness in his gaze as he did so.
“Yeah, baby girl.” That wasn’t a lie, right? In this moment, he was okay. He was home, after all. Definitely wasn’t consumed by thoughts of all the Christmases he’d already missed out on with them. “Just wish we could do this every year, is all.”
Frank cleared his throat before slowly pulling away from the hug, making sure to give Lisa’s hand a reassuring squeeze as he did so. He was totally okay. “So, didn’t you say you had this science test soon? D’you feel prepared?”
Talking about school with Lisa to kill some time always worked. She was the kind of kid who really loved school. Especially science, for some reason. Just like with the dinosaurs, he had no clue where the hell that had come from. Certainly not from him. He only ever understood half of what she was telling him. But, shit, he’d listen to her yap about Barbie dolls for hours on end if only to see the way her eyes lit up when she got real excited. Frank couldn’t understand how something so beautiful could come from him.