Eight

December 25th

Dear diary

It’s me, Susie! I’m happy because it was Christmas today, and I got you under the tree. It wasn’t like last Christmas, though, or the Christmas before that, because I didn’t get a stocking. Mommy says it was because Santa forgot to stop by our house. That makes me sad, because I spent a lot of time being a good girl so Santa would be happy and bring me presents. Also, I woke up in the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. Mommy says the lightning woke me up, but there wasn’t any rain.

When I ask Daddy, he just cries and shakes his head.

Mommy scrubbed the living room floor extra hard, with her mop. Daddy went out in the back and buried something. I can see where there isn’t any grass anymore.

December 26th

Dear diary

Did you miss me? I smelled something funny in the yard today; Mommy says it’s the fertilizer. That seems wrong to me. It smells like old beef. I got a new doll today, Daddy said it was to make up for the stocking.

December 27th

Dear diary

A funny little man showed up at our door. He lost Santa Claus, evidently. He thinks Daddy has him, but Daddy wouldn’t steal Santa. He tinkled, like a fairy.

December 28th

Dear diary

Joey next door got a stocking, and it had neat toys. I wish I had a stocking. K next door (I can’t spell her name, she says it’s a black name) didn’t get a stocking, so I’m not the only one after all. At least there were the tree presents from Mommy and Daddy. The little man came again, he sounded madder.

Daddy doesn’t talk much anymore.

December 29th

Dear diary

I’m scared. Daddy buried something else in the back, I think I heard little bells. The yard smells really bad now. The dog won’t go out anymore, he starts crying.

Daddy keeps his gun on the front table now. He says I shouldn’t touch it, it’s not for little girls. Mommy doesn’t talk much either, she just cries.

December 30th

Dear diary

I crawled in the fireplace (it wasn’t on) to see what Santa felt like. I couldn’t see up it, and when I reached up I could feel something like Daddy’s patched blue jeans. It smelled like metal, like when I bite my tongue too hard.

December 31st

Daddy’s gone. A lot of little men were at the door; it sounded like a bell choir. Mommy won’t tell me where he is. Mommy won’t say anything. She just cries.

January 1st

I found Mommy on the bathroom floor. There’s a bottle next to her, and I couldn’t wake her up. I didn’t touch her. A little man’s here, too, and he’s telling me to come with him. I have to leave you behind, though, along with my dolls. He says that there is a better place I can go to, where everyone wakes up. He says I can be just like Santa Claus.