32. Chapter 32
Right Before Christmas
I sipped on spiked eggnog, watching Dalton and Owen decorate a Christmas tree, which was my first. Perhaps I had them as a kid, but I couldn’t remember. It felt weird and oddly domestic, but I knew what I was getting myself into with Dalton.
A weird sense of melancholy filled me, not realizing I had missed something I’d never had, things like a happy family growing up or, hell, any sort of normality. Those old insecurities and jealousies from when I was a teen tried to punch through, but I wouldn’t let them. Dalton was mine now, and surprisingly, I made him happy in return. Who would’ve thought?
White lights twinkled as Dalton showed Owen where to put certain ornaments since the kid wanted to put them all in one spot. He tried to get Easton involved, but it was too awkward and boring for him, so he sat stiffly next to me.
Well, once they wrapped up the tree, it would get even more awkward for the young man because we had plans for his birthday tonight.
“This is… weird,” he said.
I chuckled. “It is a little, but it’s nice, too. Look at how happy they are.”
He looked back at father and son. “I suppose.”
“I realize we never really did anything for Christmas at The District. When you deal with so much death, you wonder what the point of everything is. But now that I’ve found someone, it changes your perspective and gives you hope that there’s goodness in the world, too.”
Easton looked at me with large, dark eyes. “You’re happy, then?”
“I am.”
“Sometimes I wonder what that feels like. I see the smiles and I understand reactions, but I will never experience what you all feel. There’s only a concept of love and happiness. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but… I’ll never have that in my life.”
Those feelings and experiences weren’t Easton’s fault. He’d suffered, starting at an incredibly young age, and his mind did what it could to protect itself, which manifested into antisocial personality disorder. On top of it, I was certain he was on the spectrum. He excelled at masking himself and projecting other personalities, but he chose to be himself with me for some reason. Allowing him to be exposed like that must have benefitted him in some way.
“You’ve formed relationships with other people, such as yours truly.”
“Not like my relationship with you. Like…”
“Like what I have with Dalton?”
“Yes.”
“You can have that. Granted, it’s not easy, but there’s always a chance you’ll find someone who understands you and appreciates you. Maybe someone oblivious, and just loves you for you.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll just prey on them or get bored with them once I’m done. What if I… do something to them? My moods… Sometimes anger just feels so…”
“Good?” I finished for him.
He nodded.
I could imagine when one’s emotions were so dampened that something strong could feel visceral and somewhat addicting. But Easton kept it under control for the most part.
“I will scare them,” he added.
All were valid concerns. I wish I had answers for him.
He sighed, continuing to watch Dalton and Owen. “I don’t need love because I don’t care, and I can’t feel what it’s like. You’re important to me only because you give me what I need and want. If you leave, I’ll… be angry and fight to get you back, but it’s not out of love, Sid. ”
I reached over and squeezed his shoulders. “I know that, East. It doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t make me care about you any less.”
“A lover won’t want that. They won’t understand like you do. But I also have needs.”
“Have you tried to find someone?” I asked.
He shook his head. “But my boredom makes me… lonely.”
“Are you talking about sex?”
He looked back at me and nodded.
I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with sex. Go get some, but do it safely. If that’s all you need, there’s nothing wrong with just having sex. There are plenty of people out there who don’t need attachments and love.”
“Perhaps. But shouldn’t I want those things? Everyone else seems to.”
“Nah. You do what works for you.”
I hoped there was someone out there for Easton, but I had my doubts. He wasn’t wrong. Most people would not understand him.
I think the only reason Easton sat through the entire birthday song with a flaming cake in front of him was because he was getting presents afterward.
I tried to explain to Dalton that Easton didn’t care about birthdays, cakes, or songs, but Dalton insisted Owen would want to sing the song, and he wouldn’t understand if he couldn’t .
Easton’s face was nothingness except for the clenched jaw as the song wrapped up. When he didn’t blow out the candles, Owen folded his arms.
“Blow out the candles and make a wish, East,” he said.
“I don’t want to.”
“But you have to! Your wish won’t come true.”
“I don’t have any wishes.”
“Everyone has wishes.” Owen, who sat on my lap, looked over at his father, who sat next to me. “Right, Daddy? Everyone has wishes.”
Dalton smiled down at his son and ruffled his strawberry-blond hair. “Not everyone wants to wish for things, Little Man.”
Owen huffed before his eyes lit up. “I know! I can blow out the candles and make a wish for you. Can I? Can I? Please?”
Easton waved a hand at the candles quickly burning down into the chocolate cake. “Have at it.”
The boy thought for a minute, then he nodded and leaned over the table, balancing on small hands. I held him to keep him from falling off me as he blew out the candles. It took several tries to blow out all eighteen of them.
Easton plucked out the candles and put them on a napkin. “What did you wish for?” he asked.
I smiled at that. “I thought you didn’t care.”
He glared at me. “I don’t.”
“The wish won’t come true if I tell you, duh,” Owen explained.
“Well, what’s the point of—”
“How about some presents?” I announced, cutting Easton off before anyone got upset.
“Nice deflection,” Dalton chuckled, cutting the cake and putting slices on plates. Owen instantly dug into his, getting chocolate all over his face and dropping crumbs on me.
I lifted the file that was sitting on a chair beside me and slid it to Easton.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Open it.”
Owen jumped down and saddled up close to Easton. He’d grown attached to the young man for some reason. I didn’t really understand why since Easton didn’t exactly give off affectionate vibes, but Owen must have sensed something in him.
“What is that?” the boy asked.
“Give me a chance to open it.”
Easton pulled out the legal document and scanned the papers before looking at me.
“It has your last name on it,” he said. “Easton Virgil?”
“That means you belong to me officially. What is mine is now yours… except for Dalton, of course. He’s hands off.”
Dalton rolled his eyes and shook his head, smiling. “That’s not quite true. We are all a family now… all four of us. So you’re going to be loved whether you like it or not, Easton.”
He smiled for the first time, and while small, it must have brought him some sort of pleasure. Or he was putting on a show for Dalton. It was hard to tell.
“Thank you,” Easton finally said .
“Now, on to your second gift,” I announced, pulling out a long box sitting on the floor under the table and handing it to him. “This is from Dalton and me, but he actually picked out the gift.”
Easton tore off the red and white polka-dotted paper and opened the box. He ran his fingers reverently along the carved wood.
“This belongs to me?” he asked.
“Of course. It’s a vintage 1963 Herter’s Perfection 72” Recurve Bow. At the bottom of the box are vintage arrows and a handmade leather quiver,” I explained.
“It’s beautiful.”
Easton stood and held up the bow, pulling on the string without an arrow nocked to it.
“I thought you might appreciate something hand-carved and old,” I said.
“Yes,” was his only response.
He set the bow back into the box, sat down, and ate his cake quietly.
When he finished, Owen stood in front of Easton and raised his arms.
“What?” Easton asked, not knowing what Owen wanted. Then he, too, raised his arms into the air, mimicking the boy.
I chuckled. “He wants you to pick him up and sit him on your lap.”
Easton raised a brow. “He could’ve just asked.”
Dalton and I laughed out loud at Easton’s awkwardness.
“He could have, but little kids do that sometimes,” Dalton explained .
Easton helped Owen up and sat him on his lap. The boy leaned back, fisting his eyes, and yawning while Easton sat there awkwardly.
“He likes you,” I chuckled.
“I don’t know why.”
I shrugged. “You’re family.”
The End