The Santa Mug

The Santa Mug by Patric Michael

Dreamspinner Press www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright ©2009 by Patric Michael First published in 2009, 2009 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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The Santa Mug by Patric Michael

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten The Santa Mug (C)Copyright Patric Michael, 2009 ****

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**** For Taylor Lochland, who caught me a clue just in the nick of time. Thanks, T!

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Chapter One Darren stared at the contents of his refrigerator for a long moment and then shut the door with a sigh. He glanced across the kitchen at the calendar, though he knew perfectly well what day it was. With another sigh, more felt than heard, Darren opened the refrigerator again and took out a beer. He pulled the tab, not particularly caring that it foamed over his hand and splashed the floor. He let the door swing closed of its own accord, also not caring whether it did so or not, and took his beer, dinner for tonight at least, into the living room to watch TV. **** The phone rang, jolting Darren out of his doze. On the TV screen, Jimmy Stewart was crowing his yearly nonsense about rose petals. "Fuck you, Jimmy," Darren muttered. The phone rang again, and Darren struggled to remember where he put the damn thing. He found it beneath an old newspaper and flipped it open. "Hello?" "Hey, Darren, it's Max. You got a minute?" Shit. Max. The last person in the world he wanted to talk to right now. Why hadn't he bothered to check caller ID? "Um, sure Max. What's up?" "You okay, man? You sound sort of funny." 5

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"Yeah, I'm good. I fell asleep on the couch. What's going on?" Darren lifted his beer can, felt the emptiness of it and groaned silently. "Hey, listen. I've got a favor to ask of you." Darren went back to the kitchen for another beer and crooked the phone against his shoulder while he opened it. "What kind of favor?" Deep suspicion tinged his voice. A not particularly unwarranted suspicion, given the circumstances. "Well...." Max hesitated, cleared his throat, and began again. "I was wondering if you... Maybe if you would—" "Just spill it, Max." "Would you come with me to my parents' house for Thanksgiving?" Of all the possible things Max might have said, might have asked for, that had to be the very last thing Darren would ever have expected. Max. Maxwell Alton Torreigne. A friend of the most casual sort for years, Max was a fixture as common as water and as comfortable as an old slipper. Max was who you called when you felt like seeing a movie or a game and didn't want to go alone, knowing there were no strings attached. Max was the one you called for a ride when you got too drunk. You could rely on Max. He was dependable. He was not, however, someone you spent a holiday with, and most especially not a holiday at the 'rents house. Was he? For a moment, Darren had an irrational urge to stick his head out the kitchen window and howl with laughter. "Darren? Are you there?" 6

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"Yeah, I'm here. Did you say Thanksgiving, at your parents' house?" "Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry. You probably already have plans. I should have realized." Max paused for the briefest instant. "My bad." "No, no, Max. I don't have any plans as a matter of fact. You just surprised me, is all. What's this all about?" "I don't know. Well, I do, actually. I haven't been home in almost six years, and Ma's been getting more and more insistent, constantly e-mailing me about what the family's been up to, and this is the first year they've all gotten time off together, and so on." Max sighed audibly. "I kind of wish they never got that damned computer. Ma's like some kind of e-mail fiend." His tone brightened, and he continued, "Anyway, I'm thinking that with the thundering horde, also known as my brothers and sisters, all paired off, according to Ma, I'd be the odd man out. I guess I was hoping you'd come with, so I didn't have to deal with all of them giving me 'the look'. You know the kind I mean." "Wait a minute," Darren said. "You want me to come as your date?" "Oh, hell, no!" Max sounded truly amused. "I was thinking more as my bodyguard." Darren laughed, vaguely surprised by his own reaction. He could feel sadness lurking beneath the surface, but for that brief moment, the laughter won. "How many brothers and sisters do you have again?" "Just five, actually, but no matter how old I get, I'll always be the baby, you know?" 7

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"Not really," Darren said. "I was an only child." "Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot." Max sounded chagrined. Darren laughed again. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, Max. Lots of people don't have siblings, and we do manage, after all." "Yeah, I know. But...." "Don't worry about it. What do you want me to bring?" "You'll do it? Really?" Now Max sounded surprised, as though he hadn't really expected Darren to agree. "Yes, really. Are we driving or flying?" "Driving, and I'll do it. I know how you are behind the wheel." "Smartass. I'll buy the gas then." Darren looked at the beer in his hand and took a drink. Somehow, it didn't seem all that appealing anymore. "No way. It's all on me. I was looking at spending a few days there, though. I've got two weeks off, so I thought I would play it against whatever time you could get." "I can do a week, probably," Darren said. "How far away are they, again?" "Just a day if the roads stay clear. Four hundred miles and change." Max laughed ruefully. "Sometimes even that doesn't seem far enough away." "I can't even begin to imagine," Darren said. His voice held a note Max caught easily. "Oh, shit, Darren. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." "Don't worry about it, man. They made their choice. Up to me to live with it." 8

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"Yeah, I know. You said that before, but can I ask you something?" Max paused for a moment. "You really did sound sort of funny." "Sure," Darren said. "Ask me anything." "Are you? Are you living with it? I know what time of year this is for you." Anything but that, Darren thought. "I get by, Max. I always do." "Yeah, sure, but if you ever want company while you get by, call me, okay?" "I've got you on speed dial, baby." Darren said. "And you've got a broken finger, apparently." Max replied without missing a beat. "Seriously, if you need to talk...." He let the words trail off. "Then I'll dial with my toes. Now enough of this maudlin shit. When are you coming to get me?" "If you can get a week, how about Tuesday morning, say about five-thirty?" "Five-thirty! Isn't that a bit early? You know I'm not coherent until at least eleven." "I know," Max said. "But I don't want to get there in the middle of the night." Darren sighed. "All right, but you bring the coffee if you want me to be even remotely functional." "I'll bring the coffee," Max said. "You bring a pillow." "I'll do that. Want me to bring anything else?" "Nope. Just your handsome self. And Darren? Thanks. I really appreciate it." "No problem. I haven't been on a road trip in ages." 9

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Max laughed. "We'll have fun. I'll see you on Tuesday." "All right, Max. If you say so." Darren sounded dubious. "Really, it'll be fun. I'll talk to you later, okay?" "'K', bye." Darren closed the phone and stared at the beer can still in his hand. The question is: do I really want to have fun? [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two Max pulled the car into a rest stop, one of the last before they reached their destination. Darren opened one eye and peered into the growing gloom. "What, again? You must have the storage capacity of a thimble." "Oh, ain't you the funny one today," Max said. "I just want to clean up a bit. We're almost there." "Are we? Jeez, I'm sorry. I slept most of the way." "Must have needed it," Max said. "Want to come with?" "No, I'm good, thanks." Darren sat up and tossed his pillow into the back seat. "I'll just keep watch out here and honk if any likely trolls show up." Max froze, caught in the act of opening the car door. The dome light overhead illuminated his surprise. "That's just nasty, you know? Sometimes I wonder about you." Despite the severity of his words, his tone held nothing but laughter. "You have no idea, baby. No idea at all." "Maybe not, but I'm beginning to suspect." Max got out of the car. "I'll be right back." "One honk for yes, and two for no," Darren said, just as the door closed. Max turned and grinned, shaking his head, and disappeared behind the stone-fronted modesty screen. After a moment, Darren also got out, stretching his long legs and groaning at the tingly pleasure-pain he felt. He stared up at the deepening sky and wondered, not for the first time since their trip began, if he was doing the right thing. The sane thing. Low on the horizon, barely above the 11

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busy interstate and the trees beyond, the first of the evening stars glittered in the chill air. Once, when the world was a nicer place, Darren watched those same stars come out, wrapped in an embrace.... "No." Darren whispered, his breath a mere wisp of fog upon the cold evening air. "Excuse me?" Darren whirled to find a man standing just to his left, waiting with a patient smile on his face. He was perhaps thirty, give-or-take, and wore a plain wool coat. His hands were buried deep in its pockets. "What did you say?" Darren said, startled. "This is my car." The man nodded to the white Chevrolet next to Darren. "I rather wanted to get back into it, but you looked so lost in thought I didn't want to disturb you, except that it's getting colder—" "Oh, yeah. Sure." Darren stepped up onto the sidewalk, giving the man room. "Sorry." "Not a problem," the man said as he chirped his key fob alarm and opened the door. "You know, if you don't mind my saying so, whoever he is, I bet he misses you too." He got into his car and shut the door. Darren lost his face behind the glare of the overhead street lamps reflected in the Chevy's windshield. The engine started, and in moments the car, and the man, were gone. "Everything cool?" Max's voice startled Darren again, and he jumped. "Jeez, Max. Don't sneak up on me like that." 12

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"I wasn't sneaking anywhere," Max said easily. "Who was that guy?" "I don't know." "Well, if we get a move on, we can just make dinner. You hungry?" Darren nodded absently, staring at the exit where the white car had disappeared. "Well, hop in then." Darren shook himself and smiled. "Sorry. I guess I zoned for a bit." He opened the car door and got in. "How much longer?" "About an hour," Max said as he pulled his door shut. "Maybe a bit longer. Are you sure you're okay?" "Never better," Darren said. "Are we there yet, Daddy?" Max grinned and drove back out onto the freeway. They rode for perhaps forty-five minutes in silence when Darren sighed. "I was thinking about Marlon." Max gripped the steering wheel a little harder, but his voice remained calm. Even after four years, Marlon was still a taboo subject. "Oh, really?" "That guy. In the white car. I was thinking about Marlon, and that guy says, 'He misses you too.' What in the hell is that supposed to mean, Max?" Max remained silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, regret cushioned his words to a gentle whisper. "I don't know, buddy. Maybe it was just coincidence." "Maybe. It was weird though." Max laid a hand on Darren's leg. "Do you want to talk about him?" 13

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Darren looked at the hand on his leg, more felt than seen in the darkness. Max's hand. Comfortable, dependable Max. He covered it with his own for a moment and then gently removed it. "Maybe someday, but not right now, okay? It's too easy to get lost in the dark." "Not if I'm driving." Max said, his voice perfectly serious. Darren laughed. The sound was weak, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Asshole." "Hungry asshole. Would you grab my phone? It's in the pocket of my jacket in the back seat." Darren felt around amongst the jumble of luggage until he found Max's phone and handed it over. Max slid it open and jabbed at the numbers, trying to keep one eye on the road. "Give," Darren said, plucking the device from Max's hand. "I want to get there alive, thank you." He cleared the screen and dialed the numbers Max gave him. When the line began to ring, he handed the phone back. "Hey Ma," Max said after a moment. "Yeah. We're about twenty minutes out. Did we miss dinner?" Darren let Max's voice wash over him as he laid his head against the cool glass and wondered, for the hundredth time, what his own mother was doing. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three "You must be Darren. It's a pleasure to meet you." The short, plump woman took Darren's hand and shook it with a grip nearly as strong as his own. "Hi, Mrs. Torreigne. Thank you for having me." Darren drew his hand back, somewhat gingerly. Max's mother snorted delicately. "Please, call me Emily." She peered up at Darren. "Otherwise I might start to feel old." "Um. Thank you. Emily." "Ma! What about me?" Max held out his arms and hugged his mother fiercely. "Oh, I have missed you so much!" Emily held her son out at arm's length. "You are still too skinny, boy." "Ma, you are a walking cliche." "Never mind that. Just get your stuff and get on in here. You're father has almost forgotten what you look like." Emily turned as she let herself back into the house. "And you sure don't know what he looks like." Max looked sheepishly at Darren. "Six years is a long time, I guess," he said as he jumped off the stoop. Darren followed him back down to the car. "What did she mean about you not remembering him?" "She's talking about Dad's accident." The words triggered a vague memory of an uncharacteristically quiet Max saying something to that effect while they watched a ball game on the tube. Darren couldn't 15

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remember for sure, and the thought bothered him somehow. "Has it been difficult for them?" "Hard enough, I suppose, but they seem to manage okay," Max said as he pulled a suitcase from the back seat. "It'll be easier if Dad can ever get fully outfitted." He reached back into the car and pulled out another suitcase and a small overnight bag. He handed them to Darren. "Would you mind grabbing one of these?" Darren grinned and lifted the luggage. "Bodyguard and baggage porter, huh?" He turned and carried the bags up the neatly trimmed walk to the front stoop. Max slid past him and pushed the door open with his foot. "Dad? We're here!" Max dropped his luggage on the floor with a clatter. A deep baritone voice wafted out to greet them. "Don't drop your luggage, and we're in the kitchen." "Uh oh. If they're in the kitchen then something's up," Max said. "Best go see what it is and get it over with." Darren added his baggage to the jumble and followed Max into the kitchen. "Hey Ma! That smells goo—" Max broke off abruptly as he stood in the doorway to the brightly lit kitchen. Darren peered around his left shoulder to see what arrested the man. "Daddy?" Max's voice surged with emotion. Carl Torreigne stood at the kitchen table, one hand lightly resting on his wife's shoulder. "What do you think, son?" He took a hesitant step forward.

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Max shouted, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and crossed the floor to grasp his father in a fierce bear hug. "Oh my God, you've got feet!" "Easy, boy! I just got these danged things last week, and I ain't ready to dance just yet." Carl's admonition was teasing, but an answering surge of emotion swam just beneath the gruff veneer. "Let me see you," Max said, releasing his father and stepping back. "How do they feel?" "Like hell," Carl gruffed. "But the doc says I'll get used to 'em in no time." He looked down at his wife, who was beaming. "Personally, I think he's full of shit," he said, smiling in return. Emily pushed at him, and he tottered slightly. "Quit it, woman. I have no intention of dumping on my ass in front of guests." Carl turned to face Darren. "You must be Darren. We've heard a lot about you." "It's a pleasure, Mr. Torreigne." Carl rolled his eyes. "Please, call me Carl. My last name is a mouthful even when you're used to it, and I like to keep things simple." He held out his hand and Darren shook it, careful not to upset the older man's balance. "Carl, then. Thank you." "Oh, you could take lessons from this one, Max. Why aren't you ever that polite?" Max scowled. "I know you better than he does," he said. Then his voice softened. "You really do look good. I am so proud of you." He hugged his father again before stepping back. 17

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"Yeah, well, flattery aside...." He eyed his son significantly. "I'm getting there, one step at a time." Carl raised one eyebrow and grinned. Emily groaned and stepped out from beneath her husband's hand. She busied herself at the stove, her back to all three. "Your mother is itching to see me land on my butt, I think." Carl spoke as he leaned on Max to take the few tottering steps to reach a chair. "Dodging out from under like that, and me with nothing to hold on to for support." He grumped, but the shine in his eyes said far more about his true feelings than the words he chose. "Um, hello? What about me?" Max chided his father. "Like I said. Nothing for support. You're too skinny," Carl said. Darren laughed. "I think you've got a conspiracy on your hands, Max." Max glared at his father. "I think you're right." "Why don't you boys get yourself settled in, then hustle on back. Dinner will be ready soon, and we can catch up." Max nodded. "Okay. I'm going to put us up in mine and Mark's old room, assuming Ma hasn't turned it into a sitting parlor or something." Emily turned to face the two young men. "I did hang those lovely lace curtains with the yellow flowers. I thought they'd make a nice touch." "Ma! You didn't, did you?" Max sounded genuinely alarmed. "Hurry back, dear. We don't want the roast to dry out, waiting for you," Emily turned back to the stove. 18

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"All right, Ma." Max sounded dubious, but he nudged Darren out into the living room. As they gathered their luggage and headed up the stairs, Max said, "That means she doesn't want us fooling around before dinner." "What?" Darren nearly dropped his suitcase. "Do they think we're a couple?" "Probably, but not because of anything I said." Max nodded to the left when they reached the top of the stairs. "Just something in her tone of voice when I told her I wanted to have you over for Thanksgiving, that's all." He pushed open a door and groaned. "God, she really did hang those nasty curtains. I thought she was joking." Darren followed Max in and set his suitcase down alongside one of two twin beds. "They're pretty awful," he agreed. He dropped his overnight bag on the nearest bed and sat down heavily. Max landed his gear as well and began poking around in drawers and closets. "Man, I can't believe she kept all this stuff," he said, holding up a battered catcher's mitt. "I used this in Little League." Darren looked up. "It's hard to picture you as a jock, even at that age, but you're changing the subject. Why would your parents think we were a couple?" Max dropped the mitt back into the drawer and closed it. He crossed the room and sat down on the opposite bed to face Darren. "Honestly, I'm not sure." "Well, did you say something to them?" "Of course not, Darren. Get real. I think it's just the fact that I wanted you to come here, especially after I've been 19

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gone for so long." Max looked down at his hands. "As open and accepting as they are, I think they still have some antique notions of how 'the whole gay thing' works." He laughed ruefully. "Either that, or they simply expect it because of the thundering horde and their myriad of spouses and children." "Max, why did you invite me here?" Darren laid back and stared at the ceiling. Paper stars and moons, probably pasted up at least two presidents ago, which no doubt still glowed in the dark, dotted the rough woodwork. "I mean, we've been friends for a long time, and I like you and all, but we've never done anything like this before. Why now?" Max also laid back and stared at the same stars. "Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?" "The truth, obviously," Darren snapped. He felt unaccountably tired. Tired of struggling though another holiday season, tired of being on his best behavior, and tired of Max. Maybe him worst of all, because for as well as they knew each other, he really didn't know what made Max tick. And that made him tired of his own stupid ego for never having bothered to find out. "Marlon." Max dropped the name quietly between them, yet it hovered like an ominous cloud, threatening to spill its wrath. "What about him?" Darren spoke softly, his voice as cold as winter ice. "What does he have to do with anything?" "Everything," Max said, his voice flat. "We were all there, Darren. All your friends, all the people who care about you were at the funeral. Then, for four years, we shut up. Never 20

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mentioned his name around you, never said or did anything that might upset you, and after a while things were better. Except during the holidays. Then you'd fall back into those same old patterns, pushed us away like we were last year's canned ham, and we let you. I let you." Max sat up and stared hard at Darren's face. "Maybe I should have said something sooner. All I know is that I couldn't bear to watch you curl in on yourself again and wonder if this was the year I'd lose you for good." Darren draped one arm over his face, shutting out his view of the little stars on the ceiling and the sight of Max's earnest, comfortable face. In the darkness behind his eyes, anger overtook him. A potent rage born of the fact someone dared try to usurp his right to grieve. "You shouldn't have interfered," he said coldly. "Really? Really, Darren?" Defiance abbreviated Max's words and gave each a razor's edge. "Well, here's a news flash for you: Marlon was my friend, too, in case you've forgotten. I introduced you to him, for Christ's sake! All that I have left of him is in you, and I miss him." Max got up and crossed the room. He paused at the doorway and turned. "I miss him, Darren. And you." He sighed when Darren said nothing. "I'm gonna go eat. Come down if you feel like it, or I'll bring you a plate later." When Darren still said nothing, Max sighed again and left the room, closing the door behind him. Beneath the crook of Darren's arm, his eyes streamed with silent tears. I miss him, too, Max. You have no idea how much. 21

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[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four "They were pretty much inseparable until Marlon died." Max picked at his plate. "That was four years ago, Christmas Eve." Emily gasped. "Oh, those poor boys. That's terrible." Max nodded. "Yeah, I know. Darren pretty much withdrew from the whole world for a long time after that." He pushed his plate away and sipped his coffee instead. "It took him about a year before he decided to rejoin the human race." "Maybe it wasn't his decision, Max." Emily spoke softly. "Grief is a powerful thing, and people respond to it differently." "I know, Ma. And it was doubly hard for Darren because he and Marlon were so tight." Emily nodded. "Sometimes it takes a while, but he seems like a good boy, and I'm sure he'll come through." She snagged the last of the roast from the platter before Carl could skewer it and began loading a clean plate, piling it high. "You've had enough, Carl." To Max she said, "Will he be all right?" She tilted her head upstairs. Max thought about it for a long time before he spoke. "I hope so." He might have said more, but Darren spoke up behind him. "Hey, that smells good." Darren laid a hand on Max's shoulder briefly as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Sorry I zoned out there. Your son woke me out of a perfectly good 23

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dream this morning by banging on my door at the crack of yesterday." "Maxie always was early to rise," Emily said. "I was just fixing you a plate. Are you hungry?" "Yes, ma'am." "Still so formal, aren't you, dear. Hopefully you'll get that out of your system before you leave." Darren grinned. "I'll try my best." He reached for the plate Emily handed him. "Don't you want me to warm it for you?" "I'm sure it's fine. It smells wonderful." "He can stick it in the microwave if he wants, Ma." Max grinned at the reproving look his mother gave him. "I know, I know. It doesn't taste the same. But Ma, your cooking is so good, not even a microwave can hide it." Emily looked startled, and Carl laughed. "God, now I've heard everything. Come on, Mama. Help me back to my chair so I can get these damned feet off and the boy can eat in peace." Carl stood, leaning heavily on the table to do so. "Damn these things hurt. You gonna rub me down?" He waggled his eyebrows at Emily. "If they're swollen, I'll put ice packs on you like the doctor said." Emily offered her shoulder for Carl to lean on. "That'll cool you down," she said as they left the kitchen. Max watched them leave, smiling faintly and shaking his head. "You know, I used to wish I was adopted." "I don't know," Darren replied. "I like your parents." "They'll like you too." Max peered into his nearly empty coffee cup. "I think Ma already does." 24

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"Why do you say that?" Max shrugged. "She let you sleep. Anyone else and she'd have called you down. Wait 'til you see what she's like with the rest of the family. You'll understand." Darren smiled. "You know, Max. That sounds kind of ominous." "I know." **** Max and Darren stacked their dishes in the sink and scattered when Emily threatened bodily harm if they didn't leave the cleanup for her. They watched TV for a while with Max's parents until Max began to nod off. "I wasn't the one who slept all the way here," Max said when Darren chided him for it. "I know. You're right, Max," Darren replied. "I did offer, once." "Yeah, and I passed, like any sensible human being with a healthy sense of self preservation." "Apparently Max doesn't think much of my driving." Darren turned to Carl and Emily, who were watching the exchange avidly. "Though I should point out it wasn't me that got the speeding ticket last year." "Couldn't be helped," Max replied. "That guy in the Jeep was cute, and he did wave at us." "You'd think that if he wanted you to catch him, he would have slowed down." "I think he was playing hard to get," Max said loftily. 25

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"Is that how you gay boys meet each other, on the freeway?" Max laughed. "No, Dad. We meet just like anyone else. Usually," he added, and Darren laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Max and I met when he doused me with a pitcher of beer at a sports bar," Darren grinned. "What were you doing in a bar, Max?" Emily's face held a faint frown. "Drinking, what else? Or I would have been if that overmuscled jerk with the brains of an unstrung tennis racket hadn't bumped into me." Max said. "Which in turn made Max, carrying a freshly filled pitcher of beer, bump into me," Darren added. "We looked like washouts at a wet T-shirt contest and smelled like a brewery. We basically became friends while trying to wash the stink out of our shirts." "Of course, giving it back to that bonehead pretty much cemented us," Max said. Carl looked eager. "Oh? What did you do to him?" Max and Darren looked at each other for a moment and began laughing. Finally, Darren motioned for him to continue. "Oh, it wasn't much, really. And it only cost us a pitcher each. The game was particularly good that day." Max glanced at Darren. "College playoffs, wasn't it?" Darren nodded, and he continued. "Everybody was yelling and cheering, and we just let ourselves get jostled, same as he did to me, only he got it from two directions at once." "That, and you plowed into his back," Darren said. 26

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Max snorted. "He wouldn't have fallen quite so hard if you hadn't tripped him." "Well, it was my favorite shirt," Darren said defensively. "And even wet, it looked good on you," Max's eyes were dancing. "Anyway, by the time the gorilla got himself untangled from the chairs and the other people, we were already out in the parking lot, laughing our asses off and running for our lives." "I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat. He was pretty big, and you were even skinnier then." Darren winked at Emily, who seemed not to notice. Instead, she was staring at her son as if he had suddenly sprouted a third eye. Max squirmed uncomfortably under her steady gaze until she finally spoke. "It's almost like I don't know you anymore, Maxie. Roughing up people, drinking in bars." "Ma, it was just the one time, and besides, I am an adult." Distress creased his face as she continued to stare at him. "Em?" Carl began, reaching for his wife. "He's not a child— " Emily cut him off with a look and suddenly buried her face in her hands, wailing. "My baby boy is all grown up!" Her histrionics might have been more effective were it not for the peals of merry laughter that followed. "Maxie, baby, you're worse than your father was." Max stared at her like a cornered rabbit until Carl huffed. "Never mind, Em. We don't need to go into that." Carl's lofty tone made his wife laugh all the more. 27

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Emily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'll tell you boys all about it later," she said, throwing a look at Carl, who managed to look pained and amused at the same time. "For now, though," she continued, still smiling broadly, "it's bedtime for me. The rest of the kids'll start showing up early, and I want to at least have the coffee on before the rioting starts." Max looked at his watch and yawned. "Is everybody really going to be here?" "They better be or I'll know why not," Emily locked the brakes on Carl's wheelchair. "It'll be the first time in six years I'll have had all my children under one roof, and nothing had better interfere." She waited while Carl shifted himself off the couch and into his wheelchair. "And Darren, I can't begin to tell you how pleased I am to have you here with us," she said as Carl unlocked the brakes. "Thank you, Mrs. Terreigne. I'm glad to be here." Emily sniffed. "We really do have to work on that, dear." "Leave him be, Em. It's nice to see some good oldfashioned courtesy around here for a change." "But it makes me feel old." "Hate to tell you, but you are old, sweetie." "Carl!" "Good night, boys," Carl said, looking over his shoulder and grinning as Emily rolled him down the hall. "Night, Dad." Max stood up and stretched. "I'm gonna crash too. What about you?" "Right behind you," Darren said. "Do we need to lock up or anything?" 28

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"I've got it. Head on up if you want, and I'll be there in a minute." Darren nodded and started for the stairs. He paused and turned around. "Thank you, Max. I think I needed this." Darren turned and left without another word. Max stared after him, too startled to reply. He finally flipped the switch on the near wall, plunging the room into darkness. "I know you do," he said to the empty room as he started up the stairs. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five Darren woke from a sound sleep under the combined weight of two small bodies jumping on him. "Uncle Max, Uncle Max! Wake up!" Kara and Kia, six-yearold twins, froze in surprise when Darren poked his head out from beneath his blanket. "You're not Uncle Max." One of the girls crossed her arms accusingly. "Hey! I'm over here." Max sat up and straightened the Tshirt he was wearing. "Come give me a snuggle." One of the pair squealed and sprinted across the space to throw herself into Max's arms. The other remained sitting with arms crossed, her face creased with a child's irritation. "Who are you?" she demanded. Darren pulled himself up. He shivered slightly as the cool air hit his bare chest. "My name is Darren. What's yours?" "Kia," the little girl said. "That's my sister," pointing to the other girl who was shrieking with laughter as Max tickled her. "Nice to meet you, Kia." "You have hair on your chest like Daddy. Mommy says she is going to mow him one of these days." Kia paused, looking critically at Darren's chest. "I don't think yours is ready to cut yet." Darren pulled his blanket up a little higher, unable to think of a single thing to say. Max laughed. "She's right you know. Not a very likely looking crop you got there." Darren glared at him. "Gee, thanks." 30

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"Kia, come here, baby, and give me my hug. Then you and Kara can tell Mommy and Daddy we'll be right down, okay?" Kia got off Darren's bed and gave Max a perfunctory hug, still eying Darren over her shoulder. Max finally got her full attention by blowing raspberries on her neck. She shrieked as only a six-year-old girl can and tried to push away. "Uncle Max, that's gross!" she said, scrubbing at her neck. "You bet, and there's plenty more where that came from if you two don't scoot and let us get dressed. Now, scram!" Max made as if to do it again, and both girls screamed. They ran for the door and slammed it shut behind them. "What in the hell was that?" Darren demanded, his head still reeling with the onslaught. "Thundering horde, remember? Those are Mark and Carla's girls." Darren shook his head. "They don't exactly act alike, do they?" "No," Max agreed. "Kia has always been the leader of the pair. In fact—" A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. "Are you decent in there?" A musically feminine voice called through the door. Max started to say "Yes," but Darren overrode him. "No! We're humping like bunnies!" A startled gasp and quickly muffled giggles sounded from the other side of the door. Darren got out of bed and pulled on jeans and a clean Tshirt. He looked at Max, who sat staring at him. "What? I wanted enough time to get my damned pants on before anyone else came blasting through that door." 31

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Max burst out laughing. "You've done it now. I think that was my sister, Carrie, and unless I miss my guess, her oldest daughter, Monica." Max shook his head. "She's fourteen." "Oh shit. I'm sorry, Max." Max laughed. "Doesn't matter to me. Just know that by the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the whole house will have heard. Monica isn't exactly discreet." Darren shook his head. "I used to regret being an only child, but not anymore." "Come on," Max said as he, too, donned jeans and a shirt. "Let's go down and face the firing squad together." **** "Maxie!" A man roughly the size of a Cincinnati linebacker grabbed Max and yanked him off his feet, swinging him around and laughing. "Where have you been, you little shit? I've missed you at these shindigs." He set Max on his feet and planted a solid kiss on the top of his head. "Jeez, Elliot. Warn a guy first, will ya? If I'd have eaten already, you'd be wearing it right now." Max scowled up at him, then his face broke into a sunny smile. "I missed you too." He turned to introduce Darren. "Elliot, this is my bodyguard, Darren. Darren, my oldest brother, Elliot." "Hey, yeah. I heard about you. Bunnies! Good one, man." Elliot shook Darren's hand, and Darren wondered briefly if his shoulder would dislocate. "Nice to meet you, Elliot. Thanks." "Wow, Ma was right. He is polite." Elliot turned to Max. "You should be guarding him. He's gonna get eaten alive." He 32

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winked at Darren and then turned toward the kitchen, shouting, "Hey Connie! Come see the baby. He's all grown up now!" Carl, seated in a recliner and wearing his prosthetics, laughed softly. "Welcome to the family, Darren." "But Max and I aren't seeing each other!" "Doesn't matter, son. Guilt by association." The doorbell rang, and Max moved to answer it. Three kids burst through, swirling past like an incoming wave around a piling, shouting "Grandma! Grandpa!" at the tops of their lungs. Max held the door open for a man and a woman as Emily emerged from the kitchen. She held out her arms and all three, two boys and a girl, bombarded her tiny frame, laughing. "Hey Max. Long time no see." The man clasped him in a one-armed guy hug that made Darren grin. "Hey, William. Happy Thanksgiving," Max said. The woman greeted Max with considerably more enthusiasm. "Maxie!" She shrieked and leaped into his arms. "Oh, my God, how I've missed you!" Max laughed and swung her around. "I've missed you, too, Liz. How are you?" "I'm good, now that I see you. Where is he?" "Where's who? There's a herd of people scattered around," Max said. "Your guy, Darren. Mom e-mailed my phone on the way over here." Max rolled his eyes. "Ma and her e-mail, I swear. He's not my guy, Sis. Just a friend I wanted to bring." He turned and 33

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motioned to Darren standing behind him. "This is Elizabeth, the youngest of my older sisters." Darren nodded and held out his hand. Elizabeth squealed and launched herself into his startled embrace, much as she had done to Max. "I don't do handshakes, Mister. Not for any friend of my baby brother." "It's, um, it's a pleasure to meet you." "Mom was right," she said to Max as she stepped out of the way to introduce her husband. "This is William. He's the one responsible for that noisy brood over there." She pointed to the children who still had Emily pinned. "William, it's a pleasure," Darren said. "Likewise," William's tone was anything but warm. "Hey, you three!" Carl roared, sitting forward in his chair and startling the entire room to momentary silence. "Are you going to come give me a hug, or do I have to come over there and get them myself?" Emily stood and shooed the grandkids toward Carl. The oldest of the three, a boy perhaps thirteen, immediately exclaimed. "Hey look! Grandpa's got feet!" Elizabeth's horrified "Jason!" was drowned out by Carl's bark of laughter. "Yes, I do, boy, and that means I can kick your butt." Carl made as if to get up, and the children scattered. The middle boy bumped into Darren and might have fallen if Darren hadn't caught him and set him back on his feet. "Sorry," the boy said, and he ran off. 34

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Darren straightened to find William frowning. "No harm. It's all good." "I suppose so. Thank you." William turned and walked away, leaving Darren feeling like he'd just been punched in the stomach. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six Darren retreated to the relative safety of the bedroom, telling Max he intended to finish dressing. Max had nodded absently, distracted by the conversation he was having with Elizabeth. Darren crossed the living room, pausing only long enough to check out the game playing on the widescreen TV before he ascended the stairs. He made a conscious effort not to bolt up two at a time. Darren lay back on the bed, feeling confused and overwhelmed as he stared up at the little stars pasted to the ceiling. "Why aren't you here with me?" he asked the stars, but they did not answer. Darren closed his eyes and tried to find the numbness that characterized his passage through the holidays, and if truth be told, most of his life over the last few years; but the sensation eluded him, chased away by the muffled voices and laughter downstairs. He wondered again what had possessed him to agree to come in the first place, even though he already knew the answer. Marlon had loved Christmas, loved the holidays in general, and he would be appalled that his love chose not to participate, despite his absence. Darren's numbness was as much to block out Marlon's imagined reproach as it was to keep the season itself at bay. Now, because of Max's stupid, wonderful, timely offer, Darren was forced to crawl out from behind the rubble of broken memories and, if not celebrate, at least participate on 36

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behalf of the man who held him, laughing and shivering on the roof of their first apartment when the stars came out on clear winter nights. **** "Get ready, baby. Here they come," Marlon had said as twilight deepened. "I bet I spot the first star of the night." It was a game they played often, that Darren seldom won, until he discovered much later that the "first star" Marlon so often spotted was always the same, Venus. He had thought, like most city kids, that the first star appeared wherever it was darkest "The stars don't change, baby. They are eternal, just like us," Marlon said, drawing Darren back against his chest as night fell, silent and cold, all around them. **** "I guess we weren't so eternal after all, were we?" Darren asked the paper stars, and they still did not answer. "Who am I going to lean on now?" "You can lean on me, Darren." Max spoke softly from the open doorway, and Darren jerked. He was unsure whether the look on Max's face was wistfulness or caution. "If you want to, I mean," Max added. "Whatever you need, let me help, okay?" "How long have you been standing there, Max?" "Not long." Max closed the door as softly as he had opened it. "We talked about that once, Marlon and I, about how much you leaned on him." 37

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"He was never my crutch." Darren spoke hotly; affronted by the suggestion, yet deep inside he knew it was true. Hadn't he just been thinking the same thing? "Marlon thought so. It worried him a little, I think. As long as he was with you, you'd go anywhere and do anything. When he was away, well, you never had the spontaneity with any of us that you did with him." Darren started to refute the statement, deny that anyone other than Marlon could know him that well, and stopped. Obviously someone did. "Why didn't you say anything before?" Max sat down on his own bed and sighed. "What would have been the point? When he was alive, he was all you needed and when he was gone...." Pain crossed Max's face as his words trailed off. He stared down at his hands for a long moment and then raised his head. "You've always been a best friend to me, Darren. Let me be yours once in a while. If you ever need me, say so." Max stood and snagged clean clothes from his suitcase. "Shower is across the hall and to the right. I'll leave you clean towels," he said as he left the room. Darren stared at the back of the door for a moment and closed his eyes, but even in the darkness behind his eyelids he saw the shadowed pain in Max's face. Pain he had put there, somehow. "When did I become so selfish?" he asked, but the stars made no reply. The sound of running feet thundered down the hall outside. The high, piping laughter of children augmented and intensified the deep bass rumble. Darren braced himself, waiting for the door to crash open, but a sharp voice called 38

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from downstairs. "You lot leave them alone, or I'll string you all by your ears!" The footsteps retreated, taking whispers and giggles with them. Darren waited, wondering if they would come back, and was surprised to feel a faint hope that they would. He looked up at the stars which were nothing more than chemicals on paper cut into fanciful shapes, yet they also represented the man he had lost, who would have adored them. "Baby, I think you spoiled me too much," he said, and the stars listened. **** Darren chose the kitchen as an alternative to the boisterous hoots and shouting that overwhelmed the living room. Most of the men were watching the game, and at any other time, he'd have been right in the thick of it, but for some reason, the implied camaraderie made him nervous. As he stepped into the kitchen, by no means the smallest room in the house, he was immediately assaulted by heat, aromas, and women. "Darren! Where have you been hiding? I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk. Can I get you anything?" The woman was small, and if Darren remembered correctly, she was the wife of that huge bruiser who was even now rattling the house with his animated stomping whenever the game on TV got exciting. "I'm sorry...." Darren trailed off, letting the lapse prompt her for her name. "Connie," she said. "We haven't been formally introduced." 39

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"With Elliot, right?" Darren smiled at the memory of Max's delight when the big man accosted him. He held out his hand for her to shake. "It's a pleasure." "Gorilla in a three-piece suit. Yup. That's him." Connie grinned. "Mom was right about you." Darren laughed. "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately. Can I help with anything?" He looked around the kitchen inquiringly. "Absolutely not. This is women's work." Connie suddenly blushed as she realized what she had said. "Women and bachelors who don't call for take-out very often," Darren agreed. "Good save." Another woman, a good deal less petite but still pretty, said as she crossed to their side of the kitchen. "I heard that comment you made this morning, as did my daughter." Darren looked abashed. "Then you must be Carrie. I do apologize for that. I was just trying to buy enough time to get dressed without anyone else coming in for a visit." Carrie smiled. "Don't apologize on my account. Monica was sure this little trip was going to be 'a total bore', as she put it, but she's been on the phone all morning with her friends talking about it, and that means she's out of my hair for a while." Darren groaned. "I suppose she has a lot of friends, right?" "Count on it." Carrie's eyes danced, and Darren understood she was teasing, hopefully. "But never mind that. Tell us about you and Maxie. The brat has kept himself scarce 40

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ever since he moved out. How long have you two been dating?" "Whoa, wait." Darren held his hands up, palm out. "We aren't together. Max and I are just good friends." "Oh, that's a shame. You two make such a cute couple." Carrie looked intently at Darren, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "Don't you think he's cute?" "Well, sure. I mean yeah, he's a handsome guy." "And so are you. You two really would make a cute couple, and I see how he looks at you." Darren laughed. "Thanks, but honestly, we're just good friends." "Does Max know that?" "Sure," Darren replied easily. "He's the one that said I was here as his bodyguard, not his date." He grinned at the startled expression on Carrie's face. "Why would he need a bodyguard?" Carrie turned to her mother. "Mom? What did you say to him?" Emily turned away from the pot she had been stirring. "I didn't say a word." She turned back to the stove and began stirring again. "I'm also not the one playing Yentl, either." Connie and the other women laughed at the affronted look on Carrie's face. "Oh boy, does she have you pegged." Emily relinquished her pot again and turned to Darren. "Don't pay her any mind, dear. She's always been like that. Even when she was little, her dolls always had to be in pairs." "I think it's great how everybody keeps such a close eye on him," Darren said. "He has a wonderful family." He paused 41

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until Carrie looked up. "Although, I have to admit, there are more of you than I thought." For the second time, Carrie looked startled. Then she began to laugh. "Oh my God. Mom, he's adorable. Can we keep him?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven Darren let the crisp November air and the hint of snow scrub at the pain he felt. He had walked several blocks while trying to push away memories of holidays at his house, before he came out and before all hell broke loose. As sweet as Max's sisters were, they reminded him all too clearly of what he had lost when his own family had rejected him so completely. Marlon had been the one to remind him over and over that he had a new family now, one that would always accept him, but Marlon wasn't here anymore, and that loss was more cutting than the snow laden air that painted his cheeks red. When he returned, Darren discovered Max sitting on the wide porch swing, staring out at the leaden gray afternoon. "Hey," Darren said as he sat down. "What's up?" Max made as if to reach for him, but he folded his hands in his lap instead. "I'm sorry, Darren. Are you okay?" "I'm fine, why?" Darren was genuinely puzzled by Max's behavior. "They don't know. My sisters, I mean. I never told them about what happened with your family." "No reason you should have," Darren said. "What does that have to do with anything?" "Ma said you had a look on your face when you left. I asked her what happened, and she told me about the girls teasing you." Max brushed at the snow that had accumulated 43

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on the porch railing. "Elliot was right. I should be your bodyguard." "Max, it's all right. Like you said, they didn't know, and besides, it doesn't bother me all that much anyway." Even as Darren said it, both men knew it was a lie. "Nonsense," Max said, and he slid closer. He put an arm around Darren's shoulder, and to his surprise, Darren leaned in after only a moment's hesitation, folding himself against Max's chest. "What'll the neighbors think?" Darren said after a moment of silence. "They all have e-mail," Max said absently. "What?" "E-mail. No doubt Ma will have e-mailed everyone on the street, and all but a few will be ready to throw rice if we set foot on the sidewalk." Darren tried to straighten, but Max held him firm. "Please tell me you're joking." "Only a little," Max admitted. "Seriously, the neighbors won't care in the least. Now, sit still and let me warm you up. You're just about frozen." "Me? You're the one with wet hair." Darren reached up and pushed a stray lock out of his face. The warmth beneath his palm startled him. Max tilted his face to meet Darren's caress. He laid his free hand over Darren's and turned his head to kiss Darren's palm. Darren's breath caught, and Max opened his eyes, startled by what he had done. "Ah, fuck, Darren. I'm sorry." 44

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Darren straightened again, and this time Max let him. He tried to pull away, but Darren caught the back of Max's neck and held him. "You started this," he said and leaned in. He kissed Max on the lips. Tenderly, almost chastely, except for the brief swipe of his tongue. "Max." He spoke as if he were trying out the sound for the first time; then he leaned in and kissed the owner of that name again. Max felt himself go weak, and Darren held him easily, clasping the back of his neck as he pressed their bodies closer together. Their kiss became more urgent as long-held barriers began to crumble. Max moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Darren, pulling at his warmth and demanding still more. Darren opened for him and was immediately assailed by the crisp jolt of their tongues meeting, two lances of warmth shielded by each other's lips from the cold air and making introductions to unexpected pleasures as they twined and writhed. Darren sucked in breath for both of them and took Max completely, giving him ample time to explore every recess and curve of his mouth before turning the tables and forcing his way back. Max drew back to catch his breath. "Darren, I—" "Shh. Don't say anything yet, please." Darren kissed him again, briefly, and then began to explore the hollow beneath Max's jaw, the dimple behind his ear, and his neck, prospecting like a blind man, with the tip of his tongue as a cane. When he reached the hollow at the base of Max's neck he bit tentatively and was rewarded with a softly inarticulate cry as Max jolted and locked his arms around Darren's body. 45

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The front door burst open, and several of the kids spilled out, laughing and chasing each other. One of the oldest, a girl, squealed and halted in her tracks. Her hands flew up and covered her mouth and her eyes were wide. The rest stopped and stared curiously at the two men huddled together on the porch swing. "Oh, my God, I've got to call Evie!" the oldest declared, and she bolted back into the house. "Let me guess," Darren said as he straightened. "Monica, right?" "Mouth of the South," Max agreed. "Grandma says to tell you dinner is almost ready if we saw you, but we aren't 'posed to bother you 'cause you're having a 'scussion." "Thanks, Sammy. Tell Grandma we'll be right there, okay?" Max nodded toward the door, and Sammy, followed by the rest of the kids, darted back inside. "Max, there's just one thing I need to know." Darren sounded unsure of himself and perhaps a little wary. He stood and held his hand out for Max. "What's that?" Darren grinned. "Is Monica going to tell Evie every time we're together?" **** "What did you mean, earlier?" Max said, leaning against Darren as they watched the billionth rerun of A Christmas Story. The children had already crashed, and most of the adults were either passed out or off in their respective rooms, 46

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victims of tryptophan overload. The few who remained awake were either talking quietly or watching the perennial rerun on TV. "About what?" Darren said, trying to keep his eyes open. "You said you were thankful for new things in old packages." "Well, you are older than me." "True," Max said, not taking the bait. "What new thing?" "You, of course." Darren sat up and turned to face Max squarely. "I don't know what happened, Max. We've known each other for almost five years, right? And in all that time, you were just good ol' comfortable Max." Max's eyes widened, and Darren laughed. He took Max's hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. "Don't take that the wrong way, Max. I just mean that you were always there. Always what I needed, when I needed it, even if I didn't want it." "Yeah, so?" Max didn't seem entirely convinced. "So, that's all I ever saw in you. All I ever wanted to see, I guess." Darren studied their clasped hands for a long moment. On the TV, Ralphie was screaming as he was pushed down the slide. "When you kissed me out on the porch, I suddenly realized how selfish I was being. I've been pushing everyone away for so long, it's become a mindless habit, and yet you kept coming back." Darren looked up into Max's face. "In fact, you never left. Never let me push you too far away, did you?" Max shook his head. "I couldn't." 47

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"I understand that now, I think." Darren clasped both of Max's hands in his, gripping them with almost desperate intensity. "I think, if you hadn't been there all these years, I might have lost it; curled up into a ball and let the world wash me away." "I would never have let that happen," Max said. "I'll never walk away." "I know that now, and I guess I'm still selfish, because I don't want you to." The two men stared at each other in silence, each lost in the implications of the other's words. "Boys, if that isn't an invitation to a kiss, I don't know what is." Carl spoke up from the far end of the couch where he sat with Emily, watching them both. Emily nodded, her wrinkled, careworn face beaming. Max and Darren both flushed identical shades of red and pulled away from each other, though Darren still held Max's hands. "Well, go on, son. Kiss him." Carl said. "We don't mind." Darren cleared his throat and leaned in. Max met him halfway and they kissed, chastely enough for parental scrutiny. It wasn't until much later, when both men were tucked up together in Darren's bed that he wondered which of them Carl had called "son." **** Darren and Max emerged from the bathroom, still toweling their hair dry when Monica turned the corner. Both men stared, waiting. 48

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"What?" she said. "I forgot my MP3 player." Max grinned. "Aren't you going to call Evie and tell her all about us, again?" Monica gave him a withering look. "Uncle Max. That was so yesterday!" She flounced away as though her intelligence had been called into question. "Honestly," she said as she went down the stairs. "Well," Max said. That's reason enough to go home, isn't it? We're old news." "You could stay longer, if you want. I still have another day, and I can always rent a car or something." "No need," Max said. "I got what I came for." He wrapped his arms around Darren's bare waist and buried his face in the nape of Darren's neck. "Get a room, after you come downstairs and say goodbye, you little shit!" Elliot's voice boomed from the top of the stairs. Echoing down the hallway as it did, his voice sounded as though he were on the business end of a bullhorn. "Okay, okay. Give us a minute, will you?" Max looked at Elliot and deliberately bit the top of Darren's right shoulder. "Maybe two minutes," he added. Elliot rolled his eyes and laughed. "Newlyweds," he said and turned on his heels. "Two minutes," he called back as he, too, descended the steps. Darren pulled Max into their room and shut the door. "Is there a lock on this thing?" ****

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Emily stood on the front porch, drying her hands on a dishtowel. Carl stood beside her, one arm holding her close. Darren had an idea it wasn't for his support. "You two aren't so far away you couldn't come for Christmas, you know." Emily's voice was steady, but her eyes were bright. "Em, we talked about this already, remember?" Carl squeezed his wife's shoulder. "I know, I know, but still...." She let the sentence drop. Max pitched his voice low. "We want to kind of take things easy, Ma. Even if the whole horde isn't here at Christmas, it's too much commotion." Max turned to look at Darren, who was loading the last of the luggage into the back seat of the car. "I'd be a total fool to think a new boyfriend, however comfortable he is, will erase everything Darren stored up all these years." He smiled and waved when Darren looked up. "Man, he's beautiful, isn't he?" Emily's eyes watered. "Take special care of him, Maxie. You'll have a time of it at first, I think." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Just that problems like his don't get solved overnight," Carl said. He looked down at his wife, who nodded. "There will be setbacks," Emily said. "But I think he's worth the trouble. Just try not to get hurt too much, okay?" "I'll try, Ma, but I already love him, you know?" "I know, baby. I know." Darren bounded up the steps. "Anything else that needs to go?" Max shook his head. "Just us." 50

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Darren turned to Emily. "I want to thank you for a wonderful time, Emily. I don't think I've ever enjoyed Thanksgiving more than I did here with you." "You're welcome, Darren. I expect to see you here again soon." "Yes, ma'am," Darren said, and he turned to Carl. "Thank you, Carl. You made me feel like home." Carl shook his hand vigorously. "Like I said, you're family, son. We're glad to have you, for you own sake, and Max's." He put his arm back across Emily's shoulders to steady himself. "You take care of my boy, you hear?" "I promise," Darren said. "He's looked after me for a long time. It's the least I could do." He grinned at the flush rising on Max's face. "Come on, Max. We got miles to bust, and I have plans for you when we get home." "Why, Maxie, you're blushing! What does he mean when he says he has 'plans for you'?" Emily gave Darren the barest hint of a wink and turned to Max. "Nothing, Ma. It's nothing. He probably wants to hash out who buys dinner on our first date." Carl laughed, a hearty sound that threatened to dislodge several low hanging icicles. "It depends on who does the asking. Don't you gay boys know anything?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight Darren watched the last few lazy snowflakes drift down outside his window as he sat drinking a cup of coffee and nervously waited for Max. A steady wind inexorably drove away the last of the snow clouds, and patches of blue broke through the afternoon sky. Max had called a few hours earlier saying he was cutting work early on account of the unexpected snow and that he wanted to spend his hooky with Darren. While their budding relationship had been anything but a whirlwind since they returned from Max's parents after Thanksgiving, Darren had a lot of lost time to make up for, and each time Max shyly asked to visit, Darren nearly jumped out of his own skin in his eagerness to say yes. Max. Comfortable, dependable Max. Only now, Darren had several other descriptions to add to the list. Adorable Max. Exciting, sensual, horny Max. God, what that boy could do in bed. Max had opened him up like a walnut, careful to crack only the seams to extract the meat whole, and Darren had let him. Reluctantly at first, his deep-seated reservations more often than not making things awkward or downright impossible, but eventually Max's relentless determination, coupled with Darren's growing desire to please him, led to a mutual understanding: "Push when I need it, but don't pull if I can't go yet." So far, it seemed to be working, but as the calendar 52

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raced closer to Christmas, neither could ignore the consequences of four years ago. **** "I'm sorry, Darren," Marlon had said as he angrily folded a pair of slacks into his suitcase. "I don't have any choice. This is why I get paid the big bucks, to be on call in case of an emergency, and this qualifies." "But you don't even like that job. Why not let it go and find something else?" Marlon stared. "Darren, jobs like this don't drop out of the sky on a whim, you know. It's not like I could quit today and be working again in a few days." "Yeah, but it's Christmas Eve, and we've been planning for a long time. It just won't be the same if we have to wait three more days." "Why not? Three days is a drop in the bucket, Darren. You can wait for me that long, can't you?" Marlon's voice suggested there was no other choice. "Of course I can. It's just... I had something special in mind for you; that's all." "And I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Something for me to look forward to when I get back." "Damn it, Marlon. Just quit the job. They've been abusing you all year long. It's just not worth it." Darren frowned and crossed his arms. "Unless your job is worth more to you than me." Marlon froze, his face pained as though he had been sucker punched. He slowly closed the suitcase and set the 53

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latches before turning to Darren. His expression was colder than the snows he would be driving through in less than five hours. "Right now, I'd have to say my job is more likely to make reasonable demands on me than you are." Marlon lifted his suitcase and started for the door. "I hoped that we could have spent the rest of the day together before I had to leave, but I think, under the circumstances, it would be best if I left early." He scooped his wallet off the bureau and tucked it into his pocket "Marlon, wait. I'm sorry." Darren made as if to reach for the man, but the expression on Marlon's face stopped him. "I am, too, baby. I really am. I'll be back in a few days, and we can talk about this then, if we are still talking at all." Marlon picked up his keys and headed for the front door. "I love you, Darren. I always will," he said, and he left. The sudden, monstrous ache in Darren's gut nearly brought him to his knees. He gasped, stunned by what just happened, and bolted for the door. A blast of arctic wind carrying swirling snow hit him in the face, momentarily blinding him. By the time he could see again, Marlon was gone. Darren sat for hours, hugging his knees and rocking as night fell and the room grew dark. He replayed the argument over and over in his mind, appalled by how things could go so wrong, so fast. When the phone rang, he simply couldn't muster enough interest to answer it. The phone fell silent for a time and then rang again. Darren reached for it to turn it off and spotted the caller ID. 54

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"Marlon? Is that you? Marlon?" The connection was sketchy at best. Heavy snow always played hell with cellular service. "... my job, baby. ...important thing in the world to me... like shit. Darren?" Marlon's voice was faint and scratchy, broken at odd moments by scratchy silence. "Marlon? I can't hear you. Where are you?" "I'm turning around, baby... talk to you..." There was a long pause, and Marlon spoke again. This time, his voice was crystal clear. "Will you be there when I get back?" "Oh, hell, yes. Marlon, I'm so sorry. I was a—" Marlon cut him off. "You're breaking up, Darren. If you can hear me... be home in about two hours. ...hope...waiting for me when I get there." The phone fell silent, and Darren hugged it to his ear, elation soaring through him until the beep warning of a disconnected call sounded. Darren scrambled to his feet, turning on every light in the place. He lit the Christmas tree taking pride of place in the front window. The tree he and Marlon took so long to decorate because they had stopped halfway through to make love beneath the sparking lights and the shimmering colored ornaments. He wanted it to be the first thing Marlon saw when he came home. Three hours later, Darren checked his phone for the tenth time to make sure it had power, and that it had at least three bars. He was plugging it into the charger when it rang in his hand, startling him badly. "Hello?" Darren spoke breathlessly; then he remembered to check the caller ID. "Marlon. Where are you?" "Are you Darren?" A stranger's voice, rough and unsure. 55

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"Yes. Who is this? Where's Marlon?" "Darren, my name is Kyle Sanders. I'm a sheriff in East County. I'm calling the ICE number listed in this phone. Do you know a Marlon Jamieson?" "You're a sheriff? What happened? Where's Marlon? Is he all right? "Darren, listen carefully. There's been an accident...." By the time Darren made it to the hospital, Marlon was dead. **** Christmas Eve was tomorrow, but Max calling like that and the unexpected snows were too devastatingly similar to four years ago, and Darren was worried enough that when the phone rang, he was afraid to answer it. Darren finally flipped open the phone just before it would have gone to voicemail. "Hello? Max?" Max's rich, vibrant voice came through loud and clear. "Darren? Hi! I'm stuck behind a snowplow, so it'll be a while longer before I get there." "Max, thank God. I was getting worried. Where are you?" "About five miles out. I had to take a detour because all the surface streets were blocked, but the plow driver said he was clearing all the way up to Main Street, and I could probably get by on my own after that if I took it slow." "Take it slow, Max. Don't rush. I'm not going anywhere. In fact, if you have to go to ground somewhere, do it. Promise me?" Darren held the phone tightly to his ear, waiting for Max's reply. 56

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"I promise," Max said instantly. "But really, I'll be fine. Allwheel drive and two sets of chains." "Max—" "I know, Darren. I'll be careful, I promise. You just have the Irish coffee waiting for when I get there, okay?" "That I can do," Darren hesitated for a moment. "Max?" "Yeah?" "I miss you." "I miss you, too, baby. I'll be there soon." "Okay. Bye." "Bye." Darren closed the phone and took several deep breaths. He hadn't realized how keyed up he was until Max had actually called. "Might have to start early on that Irish coffee," he muttered. "Without the coffee." Darren put up a fresh pot to brew and sat down to wait. He looked across the room at the front window where a Christmas tree once held pride of place. The space was empty now, with nothing to block the last rays of the setting sun peering through the clouds. In fact, the entire room seemed empty somehow; devoid of life, stagnant, with no hint of joy or even sorrow to drive away the monotony. Darren stared at the empty window, darkening as the sun fled, and saw the holiday lights on nearby houses and buildings come to life. He closed his eyes against those colorful implications and eventually fell asleep as memories of a happier time rushed at him out of the darkness, striking him with all the force of a runaway train. 57

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**** "Wait, wait." Marlon had said as Darren began stringing garland on the still bare Christmas tree. "You have to put the lights on first, and then the garland." "I know, I know. You say that every year, Marlon, but I still don't see what the big deal is." "The big deal, Mister," Marlon paused as he concentrated on fastening one end of the light string to the top of the tree. "Is that it's easier to put the lights on bare branches because there is nothing to get tangled in the wires." Marlon circuited the tree several times and wrapped the plug end around an inside branch before reaching for another string. "Besides, you don't do it right, anyway." He waited, grinning. "What? What do you mean I don't 'do it right'? How could I possibly do it wrong? It's garland, for crying out loud." Marlon smiled indulgently. "You're swoops are always too big." "Dude, you sound like Martha Stewart," Darren said, grinning. His swoops were too big because what he liked best was watching Marlon fix them. Marlon shot him a look. "Never mind. Plug this in and make sure they work, will you?" Darren laughed outright. "Yes, Miss M." He plugged the string into an extension cord, delighted, as always, by the cheerful glow that filled his hands. He looked at Marlon, whose face was lit by that same glow, and smiled mischievously. "Come here, you." Darren began reeling in the string of lights, drawing Marlon to him. When he was within 58

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arm's reach, he took the end of the string from Marlon and draped the coils of sparkling light over his shoulder. Then he reached and took hold of Marlon's shirt. "Darry, what are you doing? We have a tree to decorate." "I'm decorating my own tree," Darren said. "Bare branches, remember?" He slipped the shirt over Marlon's laughing protests and stole a quick kiss as his head emerged. "Hey! That's not fair," Marlon said. "Come back here." "All's fair in love and tree decorating," Darren replied. "Now, hold still." He unfastened Marlon's pants and slipped his hands along the length of Marlon's hips, pushing pants and shorts down to puddle at his feet. He stole a few more kisses as he stood, and Marlon's body twitched at the featherlight sensations. "Now," Darren said. "The tree is bare, and as you said, the lights go on first. Marlon held his arms out, laughing. "I feel like an idiot. "And you look gorgeous; so be a good little Christmas tree and shut up. I've got work to do." Darren began looping loose coils of the twinkling lights around Marlon's naked body. He anchored each loop and coil with a kiss or a nip and grinned impishly as Marlon began to twitch. Darren accented the lines of Marlon's chest with loops of white light, nipping and lashing each nipple in turn until Marlon was practically writhing. He wrapped a few more loops around Marlon's arms, planting light kisses on the tops of his shoulders and the inside of his elbows as he worked. When he finished Darren stood back to critique his work. "You're right. Smaller swoops do look better." Darren started to adjust some of the coils. 59

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"Leave them, they're fine." Marlon panted and his dick dripped a steady stream of clear liquid. He collected a few drops and gave them to Darren, who accepted eagerly. "Whatever else you're going to do, you better do it fast because I can't hang on much longer." Marlon's voice was low and insistent. "Now, it's my turn," Darren said. His voice was equally intense. "You're going to decorate me." "What with?" "You, baby. You're all the decoration I need," Darren said, and he stripped. As soon as Darren kicked his pants free, Marlon grabbed the back of his head and drew him in. They came together in a rush, almost painfully as their lips crushed together, each overwhelmed by the need to taste, touch, and possess the other. As their tongues slid together, caressing and searching, Marlon wrapped his draped arms around Darren's back and drew him closer. The warmth of the tiny light bulbs made small pockets of heat against their bare skin. An answering heat raced through Darren's body as Marlon's hands caressed his shoulders, his back, and the curves of his ass. The dangling lights sliding along his skin doubled and trebled the sensations and made his head spin with longing. "Take me, baby. Please?" Darren's whisper throbbed with desire Marlon nodded, his eyes wide in the glitter of the lights. He turned Darren to face away and looped several of the coils over his head until both were wrapped, head to toe, in 60

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glittering lights. Briefly, Darren wondered how that was possible. It was only a hundred-count string, after all, but Marlon's smooth entry behind him took his breath away and drove all thought from his mind. A trip hammer pounding suddenly sounded in Darren's ears, startling him badly and breaking his rhythm. Bursts of noise broken by periods of silence in which the lights surrounding them grew brighter and brighter, until both were encased in a cocoon of brilliant white light. Darren felt Marlon swell inside him, felt his own release steal the strength from his legs. Darren collapsed and hit the floor, hard. The light fell away from his body, ripped to tatters by the impact and leaving him cold and naked. He called out to Marlon, reached for his comfort and safety, but Marlon was gone, and the sound in his ears grew louder still. **** Darren woke with a start. The remnants of his dream spun around him, leaving faint splashes of memory around the room like gossamer cobwebs. The sound came again, louder this time and somehow more frantic. Darren staggered to the front door and opened it. Max stood on the stoop, his fist raised to knock again. The intense relief on his face would have been comical if it had not so closely mirrored his own. "Darren! God, you had me scared to death. I've been knocking for five minutes. Where were you?" 61

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"I fell asleep," Darren said, still haunted by remnants of his dream. "It was about Marlon." He shook himself with an effort. "Anyway, get your butt in here. You look half frozen." Max stamped his feet and came in, pausing only long enough to shuck his coat before wrapping Darren in a bear hug. "Hey, wow. What's this for?" Darren laughed and hugged Max in return. "Not that I mind or anything." "I just... I... Never mind. I was just being stupid." Max let go and stepped back. "How's that Irish coffee coming along?" "Burned, by the smell of it. Help me start a fresh pot." Darren took Max's hand and dragged him into the kitchen. Maybe it was his dream or just a longing for human company on a day like today, but Darren found himself strangely reluctant to let the man out of his sight, even for a moment. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine The two men sat huddled together on a sprung sofa, drinking Irish coffee that was perhaps a bit too strong as the snow fell outside the bare picture window. The flickering flames of a gas fireplace cast dancing light and shadows across their faces, giving each the aspects of angels and demons in turns. The storm, which had heralded the day and faded, had returned with a vengeance and set a chill in the air that had nothing to do with temperature. "Darren," Max said. "I have something I need to tell you." The words ruffled Darren's hair and tickled his ear where Max was lightly rubbing his cheek against Darren's temple. "A good something or a bad something?" Darren said, teasing. He tilted his head and nuzzled the underside of Max's jaw. Max flinched and pulled away, laughing. "That tickles." "I know," Darren said. "Now, hold still so I can get the other side." Max held out until his laughter nearly spilled his coffee. He leaned over to set the cup down on the end table. When he straightened, his face was serious. "Uh, oh. It must be a bad something." Darren's smile faltered when Max's face remained stoic. "Max?" "That's just the thing, Darren. I don't know if it's good or bad." Max laid a hand on Darren's leg. "Wait a minute. I'll be right back." 63

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Darren nodded and sipped his coffee as Max got up. The sudden butterflies in his stomach threatened to send his coffee back where it came from. Max returned a moment later holding a small square box gaily wrapped in red foil. The flickering firelight made it gleam like a jewel. "Hey, I thought you weren't going to make me do Christmas this year?" Darren said as Max handed him the package. He took Darren's cup and set it on the table beside his own. "It's not from me, baby. Read the card." Darren folded back the slip of paper and read the tiny card taped to the top. To: Darry From: Marlon Love, always Darren stared at the slip of paper for a long, long time. Max sat down beside him and tried to pull him close, but Darren's body was rigid. "I don't understand," he finally said. "Max, where did this come from?" Max sighed and sat back. He angled his body to face Darren. "Marlon gave it to me the night he died." "But it has my name on it." "I know, baby." "And that was four years ago." "I know, Darren—" 64

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"So why are you only just now giving it to me?" "Darren, please...." Darren stopped, caught by the entreaty in Max's voice. Still, it was a piece of Marlon he held in his hands. A piece of Marlon that had been kept from him for four years. "I'm listening," Darren said, and his tone was glacial. "Why only now?" "I'm afraid it might not be good news," Max said simply. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would he give me anything that day that wasn't...." Darren broke off, considering. "Unless—" "Yeah. That," Max agreed, but the look on his face said he was anything but happy about it. Darren stared at the package in his hand, suddenly colder than he had ever been in his life. A deep, bone-shattering cold that permeated his entire body like hoarfrost. "We had a fight that day, Max. Did I ever tell you that?" "No," Max said as he scooted closer. He had a sudden flashback to that night out on the porch swing at his parents' house and shivered. "You never told me, but Marlon did." Darren's head shot up, and his eyes locked on Max. "When? How could he?" "He said he left early because of that fight. He came to my house," Max said. "He was awfully upset about it; the fight, I mean. Marlon said he wasn't sure if this one was fixable." Darren's eyes fell away. He put the package down on the couch between them. It sat there, gleaming and dangerous, like a snake. "Did he tell you what the fight was about?" When Max shook his head, Darren continued. "It was my 65

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fault. I wanted him to quit his job so he wouldn't have to be away on Christmas Eve. He wouldn't do it." "That doesn't sound too bad," Max said cautiously. "It's not," Darren agreed, his face set as if it had been carved in ice. "The worst of it, the part that forced him away, was when I told him to choose; either his job, or me." Max's breath caught for a moment, confused. "But he didn't even like his job. That doesn't make sense." "You don't understand, Max. His job wasn't really the question. It was his obligation that was on the line. I was asking him—" Darren broke off. "I was demanding he choose between me and his own integrity." The ice in Darren's eyes began to melt, sending tiny drops of water coursing down his cheeks. Max reached for him, but he pulled away, grabbing a throw pillow instead. Darren sat hunched around it, rocking slightly. "How could I do that to him, Max? How could I make him choose like that?" "I don't know, Darren, but it explains a few things." Darren looked up at that. "What did he say?" "Not much, really. He only stayed about a half hour and then left. Next thing I know he's back again, with that in his hand. He wouldn't come inside. He just stood on the porch and told me to give that to you; that it would take care of everything, once and for all." The finality of those words bored their way into Darren's gut and shattered the ice there into razor shards. "What does that mean? Was he breaking up with me?" 66

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"I don't know, Darren. That's why I was afraid to give it to you. I forgot about it until after the funeral. When I remembered, I was afraid it was bad news, and you were already so devastated." Max's face hardened and froze, etched in lines of self-loathing. "Maybe if I wasn't such a coward...." Max let the words fall away. "It feels like I am betraying him somehow. He trusted me to do something for him, and yet, if I did it, things would have been so much worse for you." Darren stared at Max's face for a long time, but instead of seeing the obdurate stone of his remorse, he saw Max on a dozen different occasions. Max standing in the background while a group of strangers who had once been Darren's friends shouted and cheered on his birthday. Max at a football game, his eyes shining as he turned to clutch at Darren as they cheered a touchdown. Max, watching him, over and over again as the years passed and Darren withdrew further and further. Comfortable Max. Reliable Max. Max, with love and regret in equal measure shining in his eyes as Darren pushed him away, held him at arm's length and refused to see what was there all along, simply because he was wrapped too tightly in his own guilt and pain. It hit Darren like an avalanche and he gasped with the weight of it. In an instant, Darren finally saw, with the clarity of hindsight, what he had done to himself, to his friends, and to Max these past four years, all in the name of his own belief that no one could hurt as much as he. Like the last few pieces in a nearly complete puzzle, things fell into place and Darren saw the result of his greed. How his friends had stopped 67

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calling and coming over so often, why he hadn't had much in the way of promotions at work, and how Max—comfortable, dependable Max—was always there, his patient, beautiful face tinctured by regret. Darren tossed his pillow aside and moved the package to the end of the couch. He leaned, took hold of Max, and drew him closer, tucking the man's head beneath his chin and drawing Max's body tight against his own. For once, maybe for the first time since he and Marlon had met, it was Darren's turn to give comfort where he had always simply taken it before, and in doing so, Darren understood Marlon's gift didn't really matter. Not after all this time. What truly mattered was the man who had brought it to him. "Max, Max. I've been so selfish all these years. I'm so sorry." Darren rocked him back and forth, cradling him like a hurt child. Instead of being calmed, however, Max seemed to grow more agitated. "Max, what is it? What's wrong?" Max looked up into Darren's face for a moment and then turned away. "I should have thrown it away. I should have forgotten about it and let you keep your memories of Marlon untainted." Darren hushed him. "It's okay, Max. All my memories of Marlon are good, when I bother to let them out." The stone of Max's face cracked, and pain leaked out of the fissures. "No, no, you don't understand." Max's shoulders shook as he struggled to speak. -"I brought it to you today hoping you would finally let him go." Max lifted his head and his eyes were red rimmed and streaming. "I wanted you for 68

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myself," he said and looked away. "I've always wanted you, ever since the first day we met." Darren pulled back to stare at Max. His face wore a startled expression for a moment, and then it softened. He began to laugh, a rich, full-throated sound that chased the shadows away and rendered the firelight cheerful and inviting. "Max, don't you get it? You already have me." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten Darren cradled Max in his arms, marveling at the strength it gave him to comfort another. Max let himself be rocked for a long moment before lifting his head to look at Darren. The question on his face was obvious, even in the dancing shadows. "Ever since that night on the porch at your mother's house, you've had me." Darren brushed at Max's face and kissed his forehead. "I just didn't know it at the time." He tucked Max's head beneath his chin again and stroked his hair. "Did I tell you I dreamed about Marlon while I was waiting for you?" Max nodded and wrapped his arms around Darren's waist, holding on like a drowning victim who's just been rescued. "What happened?" "He let me go, Max. He was loving me, and at the end he let me go. I can't help but think it was so you could find me, or better yet, so I could find you." Darren kissed the top of Max's head again, letting his lips linger amidst the silky surfaces. When he spoke again, the tiny puffs of air made Max's body tremble. "He adored you, Max. Did you know that? He used to talk about you constantly." Darren laughed ruefully. "It used to make me crazy sometimes, the way he would go on and on about the things you did together." "He loved you, too, Darren." Max's voice was a low rumble against Darren's chest. 70

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"I know he did, baby, but you know what else? I think that if you two hadn't been so young, if you had met under different circumstances, it would have been you, instead of me." Max stiffened and tried to pull away, but Darren held him firm. "Don't, Max. I don't mean that as a bad thing. I just know he loved you very much, just as he loved me." Max's body relaxed, and the weight against Darren's chest snapped the last remaining barriers between them. Darren bent his head as Max raised his, and their lips met. Their kiss was tender and sweet, owing more promise than passion, and when they separated to look into each others eyes, neither man's face held any hint of regret or remorse. They held each other in silence, staring into the fire and lost in memories until Darren sighed. "You know, I miss having a Christmas tree." Max chuckled. "It's a wonder Marlon hasn't been haunting you since day one for the lack." He reached up and slid his fingers through Darren's hair. "We still have time. Do you want to get one tomorrow?" "Yeah, I think I do," Darren said. "But under one condition. You have to help me pick it out." "I have had some experience in that area," Max said, and he began unbuttoning Darren's shirt. The little package was all but forgotten. ****

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Darren's eyes were misty as Max plugged in the extension cord. Soft white light filled the room, reminding him forcibly of his dream the day before. The tree they had chosen, amidst much laughter and argument, stood shining like a beacon in the center of the large front window. "Come on!" Max said as he grabbed Darren's hand and pulled him toward the door. "We have to see what it looks like from the outside." "The same as it looks from the inside, only warmer," Darren replied, but he let himself be dragged down to the snow-covered walk. "It's beautiful," Max said as they huddled together staring at the perfectly framed tree. "Marlon would be proud of you." "Of both of us, I think," Darren agreed. "Now, back inside before we freeze to death and I'll make us some chocolate." "As long as you make it Irish," Max said, and the two raced for the door. **** "Darren? What do you want to do about this?" Max held up the small red package as Darren came in from the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs. He set them down on the hearth where Max was sitting. "I don't know," Darren admitted. "I think I'm afraid to open it." "Do you want me to open it for you?" Darren thought about it before picking up his mug and taking a sip of the aromatic chocolate. "No. You have been doing things for me for a long time, Max. It's time I did 72

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something for myself." He took the package from Max and tore it open, almost as if he were pulling a BAND-AID from tender skin. Darren stared, dumbfounded, at the cellophane window set into the side of the box. A ridiculously cheerful Santa face stared back at him, winking. "Oh my God, he knows how much I hate this shit." Laughter sparkled in his eyes as he handed the box to Max. Max took the box and opened the lid. He pulled out a brightly painted Santa mug and held it up as he studied it carefully. "I wouldn't have thought it was possible for Santa to wink salaciously," he said. Darren laughed, hard. There was an edge to the sound that had little to do with simple joy. He took the mug back and cradled it in his hands as Max joined in. His laughter also had a slight edge, but after a moment he stopped. Darren looked at him curiously. "What is it?" he asked, still grinning. "There's something inside," Max said cautiously. Darren turned the mug and peered inside. A slip of paper was wedged in at the bottom. He tweezed the paper out between two fingers and set the mug down as he looked to Max for reassurance, who nodded. Darren unfolded the paper and scanned it, reading the words written in Marlon's neat, precise script. His eyes watered and tears began coursing down his cheeks. He handed the paper to Max, who read it aloud: Darry, my sweet, beautiful boy. By the time you read this, I will be talking to my boss, telling him face-to-face, and without reservation, that I quit. You were right, Darry. No job 73

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is worth what we have together, you and I. Your love is worth more to me than anything in this world. You are the absolute center of my universe, and I love you, forever. I asked Maxie to bring this to you, rather than deliver it myself, because I am afraid. I'm afraid my walking away like that hurt you too much to forgive me. I should have dropped everything and taken you in my arms right then and never let you go, but I let my obligations get the best of me, which is stupid, because I realize now that you are the only obligation I want, or need. I hope that if you're reading this, it'll mean we can talk, at least. I miss you already, Darry. I miss your smile, and I miss your touch, and I miss the way you frown at me when I bring home something silly, like this mug I promise when I get home, we'll talk. Maybe talk about moving to someplace warm all year long. (I'm really hating the snow right now!) but especially we'll talk about us. I want there to be an us, baby. I want it to be us, forever. I want us to grow old together, watching the stars come out and making love under the Christmas tree and having you grump at my stupid sense of humor. I even want us to be able to fight sometimes so we can make up afterward, but maybe not too much of that. As that moldy old song says, 'I want you to want me.' I hope you still do. I love you Darry, always. P.S. If Maxie is still there, give him a great big wet kiss on the lips for me, but don't tell him what it's for. I just know he'll blush. Ha, ha Take care, baby! I'll be home soon. 74

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Darren picked up the grinning Santa mug and cradled it in his lap. Tears coursed down his cheeks and splashed the mug, giving its cheerful wink the appearance of regret. "He said he was turning around," Darren whispered. "The connection was so bad, I could only make out a few words." He looked beseechingly at Max. "At first, I thought he had decided not to go, but I played it over and over so often in my head I began to think he had something else in mind. Especially with that look on his face when he left." Darren absently wiped the moisture from the mug's face. "When you brought this and said it might be bad news, I wasn't really surprised." Max slid closer and folded his hands around Darren's and the mug. "I'm glad it was good news after all." "I hated myself that he died because he had turned around. If he had kept on going, he might still be alive today." "You can't know that, Darren. It was a bad storm." He squeezed Darren's hands for emphasis, pressing the round contours of the mug into Darren's palms. "There's only one thing that truly matters, Darren. He loved you, right to the end." Max wrapped his arms around Darren's shoulders, drawing him in. They sat that way, bathed in the light from the gleaming Christmas tree and warmed by each other's company. After a time, Max scooped up the piece of paper and carefully refolded it. He stood and drew Darren to his feet. "Come on. We've got one more ornament to hang." He led Darren to the Christmas tree and pried the mug from his hands. Max chose a branch near the center of the tree and 75

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slid it through the handle, pushing the cup in deep so it would have no chance of falling off. He handed the paper to Darren who tucked it carefully back into the mug. Max put an arm around Darren's waist, and they stood together, looking at the mug, and the tree that showcased it. "It'll be our first ornament together," Max said. "A reminder of all three of us." Darren, still struck by the revelations of Marlon's note, spoke softly as he leaned his head on Max's shoulder. "I should have believed in him," Darren said. "I should have known that he still loved me." "Yes, baby," Max replied. "He loved you all the way to the end, and so will I." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Born during one of the worst fires in L.A. history, Patric Michael escaped to the foothills of the Cascade Range where the world is a lot more green, even in summer. His wide-ranging and varied career, from ship building to making special effects movie props, has given him enough material for a lifetime of stories. He constantly reinvents himself with each new thing he creates. Now, it is as a writer of what he loves to read, but only when he can convince the cat that his keyboard isn't the only place in the house to sleep. Visit Patric's web site at www.patricmichael.com and his blog at blogs.patricmichael.com. **** [Back to Table of Contents]

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The Santa Mug (C)Copyright Patric Michael, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December 2009 78

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eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-335-3

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