Chapter When I was seventeen （1984）
When I was seventeen
The firelight flickered, and I stared into the heart of the flames. “Don’t you have a fire where you live?” Five years since we’d first met, and he’d never once talked about his home.
Santa smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think fires are meant to be shared.”
His words knotted my stomach. Can’t you share them with Mrs. Claus? Come to think of it, he’d never mentioned her either. Oh God. Was she nothing like she was portrayed? Was she an evil old battle-ax who kept Santa under her thumb?
I was letting my imagination run riot. Santa was nothing like I’d pictured, so it stood to reason that his wife would be unlike any images of her.
Santa held up the glass I’d placed in his hand. “This feels positively wicked.”
“I’m sure lots of people leave you a glass of whiskey,” I commented.
“Yes, they do, but I never drink it.” He pointed to the bottle that stood on the table beside him. “When I saw what you were offering, I caved. It’s my favorite.”
I beamed. “It’s my dad’s too.” That did it. No more milk for Santa. I’d make sure there was whiskey ready for him.
Santa leaned back, his glass in one hand, twirling a strand of his beard between thumb and forefinger. “This is just what I needed.”
I peered at the hat covering his head. “What do you look like under there?”
He chuckled. “You’re not about to find out. Hat hair.”
I snorted. “‘Hat hair’?”
“I’m not kidding. You should see it when the night is over and I get to take it off.” He glanced at me. “You’ll be starting college soon. Are you looking forward to it?”
I breathed deeply. “Yeah. It’ll be good to get away.”
Santa frowned. “Something wrong?”
I shrugged. “Just… family stuff.” Except it was way more than that.
He sighed. “And I’m not family. I get it. I’m just the old guy you talk to one night a year. That doesn’t give me any privileges.”
“You’re not old,” I retorted. “You’re… timeless.”
Tell him. Tell him.
I went with my gut. “The thing is… I can’t wait for college because then I’ll finally get to be myself.”
He gave me an inquiring glance, but said nothing.
“I’ll be able to be the real me,” I continued. “The one my parents and brother can’t see.” I had my reasons for not telling Mom and Dad—Ben wouldn’t understand. Although perhaps he might. There’d been a lot of talk around school, most of it not good.
Santa regarded me with that same glance, then sighed. “I understand that better than you might think.”
Of course he would. No one in the whole world knew what the man behind the Santa suit was like, not even me.
“So… what’s the real you like? Am I allowed to ask that?”
I had no idea why both my head and heart were telling me he’d be okay with my revelation, but I went along with it. “Yes, you can ask. The real me is… gay.”
God, his expression was serene. “Ah. Okay.” He cocked his head. “You’ve known this for a while, haven’t you?”
How does he do this? How does he see me so clearly when those closest to me are clueless?
I nodded. “I always felt more of an attraction to other boys rather than to girls. And two years ago…I finally admitted to myself that I was gay.”
“But you haven’t told your parents.” It wasn’t a question. “Why? Not that you have to tell anyone, because that really is no one’s business but yours.”
“I’m not sure.” My heart quaked at the lie. “No, that’s not right. I know exactly why I haven’t said anything. Fear holds me back. I watch the news, and…I think they’d worry about me.”
A heavy sigh rolled out of him. “AIDS?”
I nodded.
Santa stared into the flames. “And now I’ll be worrying about you.”
It was only then that it dawned on me. It didn’t matter how old he looked—this man was purported to be centuries old, and yet he was obviously a liberal thinker, because he didn’t appear shocked by my announcement.
Before I could tell him he had nothing to worry about—I drew the line at telling him I was still a virgin, because hey, there were some things you just didn’t tell Santa, right?
—he cleared his throat. “Be safe, okay? Don’t take risks.
” Then he reached under his cloak, and pulled out a package wrapped in shiny red paper, tied with a red velvet bow.
He held it out to me. “This is an extra one for you.”
I stared at the gift he’d placed in my hands.
“You can open it now. In fact, I think it best if you don’t open it tomorrow.” He coughed. “You might have some explaining to do if that happened.”
I undid the bow, tore off the paper, and he took them from me, making them disappear. I was left holding—
A box of condoms.
Oh my God.
“I… I don’t know what to say.” And wasn’t that the God’s honest truth?
Santa smiled. “It’ll give me one less thing to worry about until I see you next Christmas Eve.”
I bit back a smile. “Twelve condoms? I doubt I’ll have used half of them by then.”
He laughed. “A year is a long time.” His eyes widened. “Oh. Something missing.” He reached once more under his cloak and brought out another package, this one shaped unmistakably like a tube. He handed it over. “You’ll need this too.”
I peered at it. “Can I open this one tomorrow?”
He almost choked on his whiskey. “I wouldn’t.”
I tore back the wrapping far enough to see two letters—KY. My face heated. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.” I placed it beside the box of condoms.
Santa chuckled. “Good to know I don’t have to explain that one.” He stood. “Still want a hug from a—how did you put it—timeless guy?”
I laughed and lurched to my feet. “You bet. You give the best hugs.”
He held me, and I knew I would always feel safe around him.
It was weird. I’d never been that good at making friends, and I sure hoped that would change when I went to college. But this white-bearded man in the red suit had somehow crawled into my heart and was the closest thing I possessed to a best friend.
And how many people could claim that?