Mending Places Read Online Free PDF Page A

straggly pine and scurried back to his building, taking the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. The stale odor of cigarettes barely registered in his brain as he passed through the tiny apartment. Once in the kitchen, he clambered onto the counter and rooted through the cabinets for a clean glass. Finding none, he grabbed a plastic cup from the sink, filled it with water, then set the cup on the counter.
    When he inserted the branch, the cup toppled, sloshing water over the counter. Maybe he needed a heavier vase. He rifled through the dirty dishes and, not finding anything, opened the refrigerator door. Kitchen light flooded into the dark compartment, and his eyes spied a brown bottle on the bottom shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he withdrew it and opened it expertly with a bottle opener. Pouring the amber liquid into the sink, he watched in fascination as foam bubbled up around the drain. After filling the bottle with water, he stuffed the pine bough through the narrow neck and smiled in satisfaction when it remained upright.
    He held it aloft. “What do you think, Toby?” His mom got mad when he talked to his friend, but that was only because she couldn’t see him.
    Micah carried his treasure to the floor-model TV and set it carefully on top. Perfect. Now for some decorations. He rummaged through drawers and found thread, scissors, paper, and crayons. “We’ll just make our own things. I’ll use the scissors first, then you can have them.” He pulled out a chair for Toby and sat down beside him.
    A short time later, Micah stood back from the tree admiring his work. “Not bad, huh, Toby?” Crayon-waxed paper stars and candy canes dangled by thread from the branches. His smile widened with approval. He wondered if the baby would be born by Christmas and if it would like looking at his tree.
    He watched TV the remainder of the afternoon, occasionally glancing up to admire his tree. When the news came on, Micah knew it was almost time for his mother to come home. At the first commercial break, he heard the keys twist easily in the lock. Had he forgotten to bolt the door?
    His mother appeared, her brown hair damp and frizzy with rain and her tan coat splotched with wet dots. Her big belly poked out between the buttons. “How many times have I told you not to leave this apartment?”
    “I just went out for a minute. Look what I—”
    “Not now, Micah.”
    She dropped her purse and went straight to the kitchen. He heard the sucking sound of the refrigerator door opening, followed by rattling sounds as she knocked around its contents. Her work shoes tapped across the linoleum. She rounded the corner and glared at him. “Where is it? I know I had another beer in there. What did you do with it?” Her words were laced with frenzy.
    Fear stiffened his spine. He’d heard that tone often enough to know he was in trouble. Why had he forgotten she always wanted a drink after work? Why had he used her last one? Maybe when she saw the tree, she wouldn’t be angry anymore. “Look, Mommy. I made a Christmas tree for the baby.”
    Her wild eyes found his creation. She walked with slow, deliberate steps to the TV and snatched up the bottle, flinging the branch to the floor. The paper ornaments fluttered behind the branch like a kite tail.
    She held the bottle to her nose and inhaled. “What did you do with the beer?”
    “I … I poured it in the sink.”
    Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth twisted in that way he hated. “That was my last beer! I don’t get paid ’til Thursday, you know that, and you wasted my last beer.”
    When she turned and strolled to her purse, he held his breath. She thrust her hand inside and withdrew a cigarette. As she lit it, the tip flickered with an angry orange light. His mother smirked, her eyes slicing into him like a cold knife as she puffed a stream of smoke.
    Fear snaked through his body. He stood slowly to his feet. She advanced, mute anger blazing in her eyes. His feet