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Christmas season had been a mixed bag for Percy growing up. When he was very young, it had been a study of haves and have nots.
New York City was full of fun, festive activities that an overworked young mother could drag her energetic kid to, to be dazzled by lights and sounds, without having to pay.
But though she tried, Christmas morning often meant lackluster stockings and Gabe pregaming eggnog.
After Gabe died, and he started ballet, it was different. There was even less under the tree, single-income house and dance lessons and all that. But there was so much more joy. They cranked up the music, his mom singing along to Andy Williams and Sarah McLoughlinas they made blue Christmas cookies.
Miss Hestia took him and his mom to see the NYCB’s Nutcracker one Sunday afternoon. Percy had seen it before–at some point in elementary school they’d taken them on a field trip to the ballet, but now he knew and cared about what he was watching.
Miss Hestia also gave him recordings of an old NYCB Nutcracker and an old Royal Ballet one, too. In the evening of Christmas Day, Percy and his mom had eaten left over spaghetti, blue cookies, and popcorn while they watched them back to back.
Mr. Lester’s studio did the Nutcracker, but early in December. Then it was watching the gifted Nutcracker videos and blue food, looking at store windows and the sheer, unbridled joy of a Gabe-free Christmas.
And then there was Paul. Paul came with things like financial stability, plus a deep love of the arts.
Paul sang along to the Muppets’ Christmas album, and gushed about A Muppets’ Christmas Carol and blue cookies in equal measure. They actually went to the Nutcracker, and Paul insisted that he couldn’t wait until Percy was up there, too.
And eventually, Percy got there. Party guest and candy cane. And then there was an Estelle, who never had to suffer an empty Christmas stocking, and who had already seen the Nutcracker three times at the NYCB when she started her ballet class.
It wasn’t hectic for Percy, like it was for the women. And he even got to be in the brand new recording Chiron had ordered for his first year as a corps member.
They watched it, on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, depending on when he was working, and Estelle would point him out in the party scene and candy cane corps, walking right to the big TV, the only thing they’d kept of Gabe’s, and pointing him out, making him dance bits of it with her, until she was nine and too cool for that.
He learned to really love Christmas when he had a little sister.
And then there was Annabeth.
Percy liked Christmas. Liked flights and sounds and blue cookies and excited kids. Loved his little sister’s delight at sugar plums dancing and stockings full of presents.
But that was nothing to Annabeth.
Annabeth loved Christmas. Love the Nutcracker, loved Marzipan and the Sugar Plum Fairy and sparkles and lights.
Her ex had not liked Christmas, and so the first year they had dated, they had spent twelve beautiful hours and something like $1200 as Annabeth filled carts at Target and Michael’s and Pottery Barn and Anthropology with all the candy and Nutcracker-inspired decor she could get her hands on the weekend before Thanksgiving. And giggling when he lifted her into a shoulder sit so she could hang up lights around her living room. And crying when she declared her sparkling, shiny living room done, only for him to go into the bedroom and return with Marzi bear, whom he placed in a spot of honor on the mantle.
She’d given him his own Candy Cane bear that Christmas. And Candy had joined Marzi on the mantle every year since. Among Nutcrackers and ballerina figures.
Annabeth liked to work Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing day, too. Even though she now had a family to spend the holidays with. Now, Percy normally did Cav to her Sugar Plum on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, and the whole family, his mom, Paul, and Estelle, Fred and Magnus and the twins, would come see them on that day. And afterwards they’d do a real, proper Christmas feast, exchange presents and goodwill towards men and all that.
But this year wasn’t like every other year.
“It's going to be the best year, right Rory?” Percy asked, fiddling again with the stand. Rory was sleeping in the living room pack and playing in a sleep sack covered in Christmas trees. Annabeth was at intermission, before a holiday rendition of Dew Drop. And Percy was setting up Annabeth’s big present.
It was technically Rory’s second Christmas. She was a December baby, so had just turned a year old. Last year, Annabeth had missed her first Nutcracker season since she was fifteen, and Percy’s had been cut short so he could cry a lot and hug his wife and daughter.
But this year was the year Annabeth started a bunch of Christmas memories for her children. There would be no ambiguity about familial love. There would be no half-full Christmas stockings for Sofia Aurora Chase-Jackson. There would be no lonely Christmas where she wondered if her family loved her.
Percy had given Annabeth other presents last night, after their curtain call. Rory’s foot prints done up like pointe shoes on a canvas. Stylized blue prints of Koch Theater. A gift card to Mood fabrics.
But this one was a group effort.
Two weeks ago, Frederick had come down from Boston, and he’d brought with him seven American Girl dolls. One of the many collections of things from Annabeth’s childhood he couldn’t bear to part with. Post-divorce, it was mostly in a storage unit in Connecticut, and he and Annabeth were planning on going through it, together, eventually. But he’d picked out all the dolls, save Molly, who lived on his Annabeth shelf.
Percy had gone to American girl Plaza the week before and gotten stands for all the new dolls in their lives.
And in September, he and Silena, Rory, Beau, and C.J. in tow, had gone to Mood fabrics, together, for the most complicated part of the plan.
Silena, joy that she was, had made seven little costumes for the dolls: Marie, Rat King, Marzipan, Candy Cane, SnowFlake, Sugar Plum Fairy, and Cavalier.
Percy had paid for both the fabric, and her time. But he knew he got a major discounted rate. She’d also made Rory a scarily accurate Rose tutu from Sleeping Beauty for Halloween this year, a little Marie nightgown for the family Christmas card, and a new, classical tutu look, since the one she made her in the spring was too small.
Percy had dressed all the dolls, and was finishing setting them in their stands. They couldn’t be on pointe, obviously, but he knew Silena had used real pointe shoe ribbons for their little ballet slippers.
He probably could have made it a little easier on himself. Apparently American Girl had made a Nutcracker collection a few years ago, and you could still buy most of it on Ebay. Between costs and hassle, it probably would have been simpler.
But it wouldn’t have been them. No Marzipan, no Cavalier. No Snowflake pom poms. It wouldn’t have been their Nutcracker, Balanchine’s Nutcracker.
If he was going to go through the trouble for his wife, if he was going to set the stage for their family, kid-filled Christmases, then he was going to do it right.
He spent the next twenty minutes arranging them and arranging them, and then arranging them again, under the tree. Until Rory woke up.
“Daddy!” was all she said, but it was everything to him. She couldn’t quite walk yet, but her balance holding onto the sides of the pack and play was impeccable. His perfect little princess, all blonde hair and green eyes.
Then he did all the baby things: changed her, fed her, put her in a new onesie, this one made by her mommy and featuring nutcrackers and ballerinas on the front.
He kind of figured there were a lot of Nutcracker themed clothes in her future. Right up to when she made her grand debut. And probably after.
She babbled the whole time. She was speaking in three word sentences. And the holiday season had added things like “light” “pwetty” and “spin.” She’d probably want to watch “spin” when they were done, her generic word for ballet, and he’d replay Mommy’s Marzipan for her, a couple dozen times. Annabeth was probably about an hour away at this point. He had dinner in the crockpot for her. Her dad saw the show tonight, but it would just be the three of them at home this evening.
They re-watched Marzipan seven times, including Percy supporting Rory’s hands while she tried to jump in time with Mommy, when he heard the front door open, and Lucy running from where she was probably sleeping in the kitchen to the front door.
“Mommy?” Rory asked.
“I think so,” Percy agreed, picking her up and joining his other two girls in the entrance way. “Hi,” he greeted the love of his life. She looked tired, but her eyes were bright. A good show, then. “How are you?”
“I want to take a shower, put on pajamas and then eat an entire side of beef.”
“I think we can make that happen.”
She paused to give him a kiss, though, and then gave one to Rory, too.
She was quick in the shower, and Percy sat on their bed with Rory, waiting for her. She wore some candy cane printed pajamas, because she loved him very much.
Then she took an eager Rory, and Percy told her to go settle in the living room while he got her a snack while dinner finished.
He grinned while he piled a plate with carrot sticks and hummus because…
“PERCY!” She cried, “What did you do?!”
He came out to find on the floor, holding Kirsten (he’d checked), dressed as Marzipan, tight to her chest. Rory was on the floor beside her, scooting towards Addy dressed as Marie.
“Merry Christmas,” he said. “I thought you might like them.”
“Oh my god!” And she was crying now, tears rolling down her face. “This looks just like my basket skirt.” “Silena is very talented,” he said, confirming what she must have already suspected. “But I would like it noted that it was my idea, and I did pay for it.”
“Oh my god,” she said again, “and you got all my dolls!”
“All but Molly,” he corrected. “Fred couldn’t be persuaded to part with her.”
She jumped up then, with the skill of a dancer at the peak of her career, Kirsten still in her arms, and flung herself at him. He was very adept at catching beautiful women throwing themselves into his arms. Especially this beautiful woman.
“I love it,” she said, and she was practically sobbing now. But he knew his sobbing Annabeths, and this was a good one. “I love it so much. I love you. Thank you.”
“I love you, too,” he said.
He maybe had Silena working on another tiny Sleeping Beauty dress. And Kitri, and Odette and Odile, too.
Just in case.