What Money Cannot Buy

The toy store. Probably one of the most profitable areas of business during the Festive season and for me, I knew I had a fortune to spend this year. Usually I would spend thirty bucks tops on Jack but this year circumstances had changed entirely and I was out to spoil the kid as much as possible.

To Jack, the circumstance wasn't too much different, he just called me something else now and I suppose to myself it wasn't too much of a change either. All it meant to me was that the role I had always played in his life anyway, had always been mine to play by right. But for his mother, and my best friend, Mila the change had been very different and it had led to some nasty arguments between the two of us.

You're probably really confused and so let me take a step back for a moment. The night of my twenty-first birthday had always been a blank after a certain point and Mila, too, had sketchy memories. I guess for her she would want to block out what happened, for me it was too much alcohol; she'd wandered away in the dead of night, completely inebriated, right into the hands of a rapist.

Well, nine months later Jack arrived and as the best friend I was, I was there for the whole thing. I even told her to name me as his father on his certificate and give him my surname which she did. For almost four years I was the father figure in his life, and to be honest, I loved the kid to death; I loved him as if he was my own because that was how it was for me. It was as if.

We never spoke about Jack's conception; Mila wouldn't let us discuss it which was fair enough but eventually my friends began to question it whether she liked it or not. They would always compare him to me, tell me how much he looked like me, how much he acted like me. I tried to ignore them at first; as far as I was concerned, he was the son of a rapist and my friend had done a brave thing by not getting an abortion.

And then I began to notice it myself.

His black hair, his green eyes, his laugh, his mannerisms. I began to feel like I was staring at my baby photos every time I looked at him. On the advice of my friend Brian, I told him to call me 'daddy' - and he took to this like a duck to water - as we had been trying to patch in what really had happened in the blank space of my memory from my twenty-first. I had to have it out with Mila, I needed to know once and for all if Jack really was mine.

She was livid with me but I just stood to remind her that I was his rightful father and that I had every right to be called 'daddy' by him. I was always as good as his father anyway before she finally told the truth - that we had slept together at my birthday party, right before she had wandered off.

I loved being a father, a proper father to him that is and as it was the Baker family's first Christmas with Jack Baker as an official member, Mila had said I could have him for Christmas. She lived two hours away but I wasn't going to pass up the offer, and my mom wasn't going to let me either. I just hoped Mila wouldn't mind too much; he was, after all, her entire world and if suddenly Jack ever ceased to exist so would she.

But back to this toy store. I had Jack's Christmas list in my pocket; I had bought everything he wanted within reason (the actual Optimus Prime would be a little out of my budget, as would Harry Potter himself if they were real and not fiction) bar this one last thing, and compared to some of the other things he had asked for (not including Optimus Prime) it was a silly little thing.

A slinky. And not just any slinky either, oh no! When he had written the list with us he had made sure we had specifically written down "the lots of colours one with lots of colours. And I won't break it, daddy, I promises." I couldn't help but smile as I saw the image of his adorable innocent grin as he said this all to me whilst I wrote it down.

God knows I love my son.

God also knows I am not a fan of shopping on Christmas Eve when the shelves are all but bare, the customers are mostly men who forgot it was even Christmas and the staff are all pissed off Humbug's who want to go home and drown out the sorrow of the upcoming, and ever looming Boxing Day Sales at the bottom of a bottle of Jack. Daniels that is.

Well I had the slinky in my possession, surprised there were even any left and found myself in a state of dire amusement waiting to be cashed out. The guy in front of me was holding a cheap Barbie substitute and a roll of blue gift wrap with robots on it, muttering something about would his daughter like this even though she specifically screamed that she wanted a Princess Barbie. The guy behind me had filled a basket with weird soft toys I'm not even sure could pass as aliens.

I looked back at the slinky on the belt beside me, thought about the pile of presents under the tree at mom and dad's house, and the pile of presents they had locked up in the attic for "Father Christmas" to deliver tonight. This was the first year in ages I had ever been so on top of things. In fact I think it was the first year ever in my own recorded history.

Dad was going to play Father Christmas, and I was going to sneak down with Jack at a specific time and sit on the stairs and spy. Or so the plan was to do that; I had to successfully pay for the purchase and get out alive, before somehow wrapping it without Jack getting suspicious. He was already very curious child anyway.

Deep in the pocket of my comfiest jeans - though not the pair in the best condition - I felt the vibration of my cell as it began it's quiet start to my message tone, gradually getting louder and louder; it may as well have screamed at me, answer me damn you! I'm way more important! because everyone in the store turned their heads to consider me. I gave a sheepish smile, digging my hand into my pocket to retrieve the device.

"Stupid thing," I muttered, convinced no-one could possibly want me as bad as my cell had made out. It was only my mom asking me to give her a call; I'm sure she could wait for me to get out of this store to hear from me. She was a patient woman. She was my mother for Christ's sake and that meant putting up with the guys from the band; we all had parents who deserved medals of honour for living with us lot.

Finally cashing out I hurried out of the store and took my phone out of my pocket once again to call my mom like she had asked. I'm a good boy, I do as I'm told.

"Hello?" Her kind mom-voice crackled through the not-so-great reception.

"Mom, don’t sound so confused you were the one who asked me to call.”

"Oh! Oh Zacky, I'm so sorry!" My mother, ever the eclectic lunatic who made my childhood as silly and messy and ridiculous and fun-filled as possible. Her life was about having fun and never growing up and if that meant her being as ditzy as she was in her middle age then so be it. That is my mom for you. She laughed heartily at herself. "I swear you sound more like your father everyday! Oh my."

I chuckled too, "Mom I didn't speak when you answered!"

"Oh yeah..." she trailed off momentarily and I took the opportunity to unlock my car and slide into the drivers seat. "Anyway!" Cue hand flap to dismiss the first part of the conversation. "What is Mila doing for Christmas this year?"

I frowned, trying to recall what she had told me. "Staying at her parents I think." I can't exactly remember, which is really bad of me. In all honesty I'd been paying more attention to Jack as he passed me all the things he wanted to bring with him. When he appeared with his Jurassic Park Box I had to put my foot down; he didn't need his entire collection of Dinosaurs at my moms.

"Jack seems to think she isn't doing anything," Mom replied and I felt my heart sink, hoping to God that on this occasion he had been lying. I don't encourage him to lie but I also don't like the thought of my best friend doing nothing at Christmas. "So he asked me if Father Christmas would bring her to our house if he put her on his list."

"'kay." Suddenly I felt disorganised. Rubbing my temple I sighed. Then I sighed some more and started up the engine; my car didn't roar like the cars that belong to these dickwads who want to show off. My car purred like a hot woman. "Erm I'll be back in a few hours, yeah? Tell him I love him and that I'll be back real soon."

"Za-"

"Love you mom."

Throwing my cell into the passenger seat, I put my foot down and pulled away from the curb side whilst buckling up with one hand, all the while craning my head round to see for any oncoming traffic so I could pull out properly. Of course the whole world and his herd of sheep wanted to come past now I had a long journey ahead of me.

Mila couldn't make life easy, she never could. She wasn't very good at it. Nothing was ever simple, she always had to throw glitter and party streamers and silly string at things so that though it made it more attractive at the start, it became ten times worse during the clean up operation at the end. Believe me when she was pregnant with Jack she became insufferable some days.

It's a good job for her I didn't actually mind the drive to Santa Barbara, and that lucky for the both of us since it was Christmas Eve so the roads were quiet. Well, they were a little busier than I thought they would be but still less traffic on them than there would be at a normal time of year.

Much better to drive it with Jack in the car. On our ride down to Huntington Beach the other day when I picked him up, we started out in a police car in the middle of a high speed chase. Then we were riding on Optimus Prime and was helping him to catch Megatron because Megatron had stolen everyone in my band. Jack and I had escaped apparently.

Yes my four year old son is obsessed with Transformers. So was I when I was his age but he's got it easy, he will be four and half give or take when the movie comes out next year. I will have had to wait twenty-one years to get to see the movie. Nothing like a little father son bonding.

The apartment block that Mila lived in was not anything I was exactly happy to let my best friend and our son live in but she wouldn't listen to me. She was going through one of her proud moments after falling out with both me and her parents, wanting to show everyone she could survive on her own.

I made sure my car was locked securely and parked in a place I could easily see from the window of her apartment; I didn't exactly trust the tenants in these scanty homes. I felt an involuntary lip curl, and a shudder rolled down my spine at the thought of having to live in one of these pig sties.

I'd lived in poverty before: during the early years of the band when we pretty much lived in the back of the van with no food whatsoever and had to get Val to steal money from her parents just so we had some money to get around. I would come home looking like a sallow bag of sticks and every time mom would tell me I wasn't going on tour again. It's not fun to live like that.

Reaching the door I attempted to peer through the window to the left of me but the grimy net at the window prevented it. I scowled before knocking on the door three times in quick succession. I couldn't hear anything inside, no television or music, no voices. There was no sign of human life and yet Mila's banger was parked in the car lot still.

I decided to knock only once more, this time firmer and therefore louder in case she was asleep and missed it. I waited. One minute, two minute. Three minutes ticked by and began to scowl so hard I was growling in my throat out of pure annoyance. She had no more chances, that was it.

But the door opened, right at the very moment it cracked open to the end of the short chain and she peered around at me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a greasy mess; her eyes were sunken and lifeless, and yet red and puffy; her skin almost grey in colour and her clothes appeared to be falling off her body. I wasn't even sure this was Mila at first.

"What do you want Zack?" The voice that spoke may have been hoarse from the apparent crying jag she'd been on, but it was certainly Mila's voice. I would know it anywhere. I said nothing, but put my hand through the gap and unhooked the chain, pushing myself against the door to stop her closing it on my hand.

Now with access gained I stepped over the threshold into the dim cold excuse of a living space. You wouldn't have thought it was Christmas looking at the barren walls; the only thing that gave away to visitors it was the Festive season was the handmade Christmas card that stood alone on the mantle above the electric fire that wasn't even on. There no lights on either.

I couldn't help myself and flicked the switch, curious to see if she just didn't have the lights on or because they wouldn't come on. It was the latter option.

I turned to consider her as she sank back down onto the edge of a sofa that looked too beaten up even for the homeless. How had I not noticed these things the other day? Oh, maybe because she still had light and electricity when I picked Jack up.

"When are you going to your moms?" I asked, staring at the back of her head. Slowly Mila turned to consider me before looking away. "You're not are you, so what are you doing for Christmas?"

"What does it matter to you?" She retorted as she sparked up a cigarette and chucked her lighter down on the table. I wrinkled my nose; I'd given up. "You've got your lovely Christmas with your parents and our son, you don't need to worry about me."

"Don't be thick, Mila you're my best friend, of course I'm going to worry!" I snapped. "If I had known you were going to be alone I wouldn't have had Jack!"

"That wouldn't have been fair, it's your first Christmas with him."

"But he's the only reason you smile anymore Mila!" I cried out. "Don't think we hadn't noticed! You're never happy unless you're with him!"

I stomped around the heap of old brown-grey threadbare sofa to see her face. She looked the other way towards the kitchen; I looked too, then back at her sack of bones and my curiosity piqued once more. Ordering her to remain seated I went and investigated the food levels of the house.

Nothing.

"Mila when did you eat last?!" I almost cried. She shrugged. "Why don't you get more?"

"Because I have no money." Her big silver eyes, now grey and dull and lifeless, welled with tears and her bottom lip began to tremble. She sucked in a wobbly breath and dragged her fist over her eyes to rid them of the salty water droplets. "I spent my last ten bucks on getting Jack a Christmas present."

She pointed across the room to a small parcel wrapped in sparkly blue gift wrap, before sucking on that stick of death like her life depended on it. I think it was just to give her a distraction from the fact she wanted, and probably needed, to cry right now.

"You need to eat!"

"I couldn't not get him anything! I'm his mother for fucks sake!" She yelled. "You were buying everything off his fucking list and I would have felt bad if I didn't get anything at all! I had ten bucks, Zack, it's hardly anything to the money you've thrown into his things this year!"

I looked down at my feet, biting down hard on my bottom lip till a horrid metallic taste lingered on my tongue and I knew I had bitten down much too hard. Mila was going to make me cry too in a minute; she was breaking my heart. She had selflessly spent her last ten bucks just to buy her son a Christmas present, instead of buying herself some food.

And I had spent well over two hundred dollars on the kid, let alone the money I had put into the food. I had both, she had one or the other.

I crouched down in front of her, trying to get her to look at me but she wouldn't meet my eye. I sighed. "Money isn't everything you know," I pointed out. "Jack told mom you weren't doing anything for Christmas and he asked her if Santa would bring you if he put you on his Christmas list."

She said nothing, but turned her head back. Granted she didn't meet my eyes but at least she didn't have her head turned to the kitchen or the window.

"I could spend a million dollars on that kid but it doesn't mean he would rather have that than his mom."

Mila stood up and walked away into the kitchen, softly closing the door behind her. I remained where I was, allowing the tears to slowly drip off my chin to mark dark spots on my jeans whilst behind the door I heard her unleash the cry she had been holding in since I barged my way inside.

***

"Daddy!" Small hands grabbed roughly at my upper arms and shook me violently till I had no choice but to open my eyes and seek out the small person causing the disruption. "Daddy wake up it is Christmas! We has to go see if Santy Claus remembered I was here and not at mommy's house!"

I rolled onto my back and smiled sleepily up at his excited face as he grinned back. I rubbed my fists over my eyes then slowly made my way up onto my elbows. I grinned even more at him. "Are you sure it's Christmas?"

"Yes daddy!" He laughed, throwing his head back. "Me and grandma did hear Santy Claus jingle-jangling his reindeer bells in the sky!"

"And you're sure Mr Skellington didn't steal Santa?"

"Yeeees!"

"What about the Grinch?"

"Daaaddy stop being silly!"

I grinned, deciding I'd wound him up enough. So whilst he was sprawled amongst my duvet having a fit of the giggles, I went and pulled on some socks. This may be Southern California but my mom had stone flooring in the entrance hall and it was freezing first thing in the morning!

When I was done I picked up in a fireman’s lift, throwing him over my shoulder to which he cried out with more delightful giggles, appealing to my dad to rescue him when we stepped onto the landing at the same time as him and my mom. Mom threw us an adoring smile and wished a happy Christmas.

At this point dad had hold of Jack's hands and I had his feet and we were swinging him this way and that. Until mom called back up the stairs.

"Jack honey!" He stopped laughing with a sudden gasp and I set his feet on the floor. "Do you want to open the door? We need you to check Father Christmas has been!"

Jack couldn't have got himself down the staircase any faster, short of throwing himself down it or falling down. When dad and I reached the entrance hall, we saw the four year old skidding over backwards onto his ass in his haste to be first to see into the den. He just laughed and grinned round at everyone before getting up.

I watched as his fingers curled around the handle, pulling it down with all the force he could muster before it lurched forward and he stumbled inside.

The room smelt of Christmas. It smelt of the twinkling tree in the corner, it smelt of mulled wine candles, it smelt of the air freshener my mom reserved only for the Festive season. It was the smell from my childhood and I was glad that my parents would always be able to recreate such nostalgia for me.

Jack's eyes lit up at the size of the pile beneath the tree. Instantly he span around to pick me out; grabbing my hand he led me over to the shining beacon of tinsel, Christmas lights and gift wrap. "See daddy!" He grinned. "I told you it was Santy Claus! I fink he got everybody one!"

"And what about this present over here?" I then asked, pointing further into the room, an area my son had completely blanked as his vision tunnelled and all he saw was the presents. "Who is this present for?"

Jack turned, still holding my hand as Mila, her eyes already silver again, over spilt with happiness. His jaw dropped before suddenly, "Mommy!" was emitted at the very top of his lungs and the pair of them flew at each other. Eventually he sat back, pushing all her hair from her face with his hands and he smiled; not grinned, but smiled. "Did you ride with Santy Claus mommy?"

"Oh yes," she nodded vigorously. "All the way up to the stars, and all the way down to the ocean! He says thank you for his biscuits and milk as well."

"Wow." Jack's eyes were full of life that no amount of money could have bought. And then, finally, his trademark grin made its way onto his face and the life in his eyes blew up into a raging fire of mischief and excitement as he looked at me. "Daddy that is way cooler than Optimus Prime."