Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
JAKE
Shame was a constant struggle for Jake. He’d hoped the energy of the kiss, of dating someone new, would carry him through into the following days, breaking him out of his depressive cycle.
Unfortunately, the opposite happened. When Doren was there, Jake was quite content and engaged, but the rest of his time was spent in bed. The exhaustion took over, and everything was an insurmountable obstacle.
Showering? Too much work. Making food that wasn’t a bowl of cereal? Impossible. Getting up and opening the door when Doren arrived? Barely doable.
Jake took to leaving the door unlocked so that he wouldn’t have to get out of bed to let them in. Doren would enter, feed Miranda Priestly, and wait for Jake to wake up. Sometimes Doren would do the dishes or a load of laundry; sometimes they would read a bit.
That’s where the shame came in. The thought that he had this wonderful person waiting for him downstairs, this gorgeous surfer who was very into making out with him, and yet he couldn’t move his body, was ridiculous.
But Doren never complained.
They simply waited patiently, and when Jake descended the stairs every day, whether or not it was afternoon, they were never less than ecstatic to see him. Doren would jump up from the chair and come in for a kiss, followed by handing him a cup of coffee.
There was no judgement, no disappointment. Not a mote of disgust at kissing someone who may or may not have brushed his teeth or showered. Only joy.
Doren would happily snuggle up as Jake drank his afternoon coffee, chatting about, well, anything really.
Doren had many obsessions, and Jake was glad to hear about them, considering that he had trouble formulating words when he first woke up.
He’d much rather listen to Doren go on about seabird migration, or the history of cobblestone, or peppermint lattes, than have to speak.
Doren never complained about his silence. That was a gift.
On December 19th, Jake woke with a start. He’d had an intense dream, one of those nightmares where he knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. Instead, it was almost as if he was going about a normal, waking day with the portent of doom hanging about his neck.
The first thing he noticed was the light. It was still dark out. That was unusual. Jake hadn’t woken up before dawn in months. Yet he was fully awake.
Jake grabbed his phone and checked the time. 5:30. Early, yes, but not awful. It would be nice to get a head start on the day for once, instead of sleeping away the morning and half of the afternoon. He was okay.
The feeling dissipated once he noticed an important overlooked fact. The clock on the phone did say 5:30. 5:30 P.M.
Shit. It was evening. A line had been crossed in Jake’s mind, and on the other side of that line was a variety of scary treatments he should now consider. Going back into a hospital program. Group therapy. Ketamine.
Jake swallowed hard as he threw on a shirt to head down. He hoped Doren hadn’t stuck around all day. The thought of sweet Doren waiting for hours upon hours filled his heart with sadness and shame.
As he swung open the door to the bedroom, stepping into the cold air of the hallway, Jake was stopped in his tracks by…was that music? Some kind of song was playing. The tinkling of a piano floated up from below. He couldn’t place the tune, although there was something familiar about it.
When he reached the top of the stairs, Jake was confronted by…a lighting change? Not much of the living room was visible from that vantage point, but what he could see was bathed in a soft amber glow. He didn’t understand which of the lamps in the house would put forth that kind of light.
Heading down the staircase, the rest of the living room came into sight. Jake gasped.
Doren had decorated. They had taken Jake’s car keys, opened up the trunk, and brought everything inside.
Two red-and-gray plaid stockings hung from the cedar mantle, which was covered in a snaking garland of pine needles and silver bells.
Doren had changed out the nautical-themed covers on the throw pillows for silver and gold ones.
On the coffee table was an oversized arrangement of white candles and red bows.
Each adornment conjured a stirring of joy in Jake’s chest, but there was an undertone of shame to it. Decorating was his thing. He’d never been so depressed he couldn’t get ready for the holiday. But here he was, six days before Christmas, so paralyzed that Doren had stepped in.
Jake hadn’t asked, of course, but he couldn’t be angry.
He knew himself. He wouldn’t have gotten it done.
Doren had made sure Jake wouldn’t spend the rest of the month devastated at the sight of the bare house.
Pushing down the shame and sadness that threatened to spike at the thought of his failure, Jake moved all the way into the room.
The most glorious part of it all was waiting for him there. Doren had erected the tree in the large bay window, stringing an overwhelming number of strands of amber lights on it. Jake hoped it wasn’t more than the electrical wiring could handle.
But Doren hadn’t finished the job. Instead, they had spread out the boxes of ornaments on the floor so that each was open and accessible. They stood in the kitchen, fussing over a pan of simmering liquid, their back to Jake.
Doren hadn’t finished decorating the tree. They’d waited so the two of them could do it together.
Tears welled up in Jake’s eyes, and for once he didn’t wipe them away. He’d never had a partner who was so kind and considerate. Doren understood him on a fundamental level after such a short time.
They finished up their task and turned around with two mugs in their hands, smiling.
“I made hot cocoa. You can’t decorate a Christmas tree without a taste of something sweet. I purchased the miniature marshmallows.”
If Jake had thought he wouldn’t cry much this evening, he was very wrong, because at the sound of Doren’s words there was no holding it back. The support of his beautiful surfer overwhelmed him. The salty drops poured out, wetting his cheeks, soaking his beard, and dripping down onto his shirt.
“Baby? Are you okay?”
Doren rushed to Jake’s side, worry in their eyes, but he squeezed out a reply to assure them. “I’m good. Better than I thought possible. Thank you for all of this.”
Setting down the mugs, Doren wrapped their arms around Jake and nestled their nose into Jake’s neck, breathing in deeply. Jake held on tight, filled with a sudden irrational worry Doren wasn’t real, that they would fade away like an exorcised ghost.
After standing there for almost five minutes, Doren stepped back, bending over and grabbing the mugs once again.
“Your cocoa, my sweet man,” they said, handing it over before lacing together the fingers on Jake and Doren’s free hands. They pulled Jake forward into the living room and brought him to the arrangement of boxes surrounding the tree.
Even without decorations, clad only in white lights, the tree was impressive. Jake was frugal with everything except at Christmas. He had bought an expensive and quite realistic tree two years before, and purchasing the high-end product paid off.
You had to examine it closely to notice that it wasn’t a fresh tree. It even exuded a faint smell of pine, which Jake usually augmented with a few scented candles.
Surveying the contents of the boxes stretched before him, he bent over and picked up a small crocheted white dog in a Santa hat and smiled.
“You have so many ornaments,” Doren said in a gentle tone, “and each one is different. Will you tell me about them?”
Jake took a deep gulp of his hot cocoa, and it slid down his throat, spreading its sweet warmth throughout his chest cavity. Doren had prepared it perfectly, and Jake fought not to be overwhelmed by all the kindness they were showing him.
He focused on the ornament in his hand. “My great-grandmother made this one. I never knew her. She died the year before I was born. But I loved it so much as a kid—it was always front and center on my Gram’s tree—she gave it to me when I moved out.”
“It’s adorable,” Doren whispered as Jake hung it in a prominent place on the otherwise naked tree. He went back and grabbed another one, this time a Statue of Liberty covered in sparkling rhinestones.
“We were always pretty poor when I was a kid, but one year my grandmother saved up enough to bring us to New York. I loved it. That’s probably why I moved there after I graduated from college. We bought this when we visited Ellis Island.”
And so it went. It might have taken them a good two hours longer than it needed to, but Doren encouraged Jake to speak about each and every ornament.
Eager eyes and assorted hugs greeted each of the many stories.
By the time they finished, they’d packed the tree with decorations, and Jake’s heart was full.
When he bent down to retrieve the topper, Jake’s breath caught in his throat. There sat a large, rather ostentatious angel decked out in white and gold. He stared at it for a long moment.
“Is something wrong?” Doren asked, and Jake nodded, unable to tear his eyes from it.
“I got this with Phil. From the Macy’s in Herald Square.
I’d always wanted to do a proper New York Christmas, so even though we lived way out in Brooklyn, we rented a hotel room in Manhattan.
We saw the Rockettes, went ice skating at Rockefeller Center, the whole bit. We visited the windows at Macy’s.”
Jake’s voice cracked, and he worried he might not hold it together. He clutched at the angel, who stared up at him with a haughty, pretentious expression.
“They were beautiful. The window theme was family, and there were all these scenes of celebrating, going sledding with everyone, that sort of thing. I wanted to get an ornament, so we went inside. The Christmas stuff is all up on the ninth floor. The old wooden escalators were so cool.”