Ryan Rodriguez “Do you know how tired I am . . .” Eugene closes his eyes. “I just want us to have our own place away from everyone.” He moves closer to Helen who is intent on the frozen dairy. He pulls her close but she stands stiff, annoyed. “I just want us to be happy. I get so angry when I think about this kid taking our money and he didn‟t do anything but hold a gun to someone‟s head. We work hard and he is just taking our dream away.” Eugene releases his wife‟s curved waist and walks to the counter. He picks a knife from the block and holds it up, viewing his own reflection. “It‟s obvious to me that since you‟ve been robbed, you haven‟t been happy. You are going to have to change, learn how to deal with whatever is eating at you.” Eugene watches Helen‟s reflection put the quart of ice cream away and walk towards him. He feels her press her long, soft frame against his back. Her fingers touch his forearm. He opens his fingers, releasing the knife on the counter. “Slow down. You‟ll get your dream house but don‟t forget that we are here now. I‟m here now. I don‟t need kids, don‟t need millions of dollars, but I need you to be you.” Eugene feels her chin on his shoulder, her breath on his cheek. “Are you ready for bed?” As he trails his wife, holding her hand, he looks back at the knife and he thinks about how some cultures cut thieves at the wrist. Eugene loves closing his pizza shop on snowy days, hanging evergreen boughs on the front door, bundling into bed with steaming hot chocolate, with Helen and her green poinsettia underpants. He loves Helen performing in the church bell choir, loves standing in the grassy nativity manger and smelling hay bales, pretending to be a “real wise man” for a two-hour shift. He loves driving the neighborhoods lit with candles or colored lights, squeezing his eyes almost shut to view the holiday lights like a kaleidoscope, pretending the world is all a soft blur. He loves how the bitter cold makes his blood rise to his skin like a lake wave slapping against an icy break wall. In his fifth year at the pizza shop he decided it wasn‟t enough to decorate just for Christmas. So in addition to crosses, ceramic Santa‟s, and plastic reindeer, he added a menorah and dreidel, a Kwanza kinara and unity cup. He liked to show appreciation for regular customers, but he knew it was good for business. “Open kitchen, open arms,” Mr. Dellucci used to say. “Bring in the people; the money will follow. Love people first, food second . . .” and Mr. Delucci would lean in and wink, whispering loudly, “And the money last, always love the money last, or it will take over everything else that you love.” Eugene watches Chucky glue a googly-eye to his Santa Claus cut from a life and leisure magazine. Abigail, home from her first semester at the State
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