When I was fifty-two （2019）
When I was fifty-two
“I like the new couch,” I murmured. It faced the fireplace, its seats deeper than the last one. Plenty of room for us to lie on it and snuggle beneath a throw.
He lay behind me, his arm draped over me. “Me too. This is a couch built for two.” He rocked against me, his cock sliding through my crack.
“Is that a suggestion?”
He chuckled. “If I had my way, I’d fall asleep buried inside you.”
Oh my God, I loved that.
“So… what did I miss? How was 2019? Seeing as it’s almost over.”
“It was a bumper year for celebrities coming out as LGBTQ+, now that I think about it.” Some had hit the headlines more than others.
“Really? I don’t follow celebrities.”
I twisted my neck to smile at him. “Which is so refreshing, I can tell you. I stopped going for a haircut. It was all he talked about. Bored me to tears.”
Santa stroked my head. “I see those clippers came in handy. So, who came out? Anyone I’d know?”
“I lost track, there were so many. A wrestler, a Broadway star, a country singer, an actor, a rugby referee, a YouTuber, a hockey player, TV stars…” When he said nothing, I glanced back at him. “You okay?”
“Coming out… Is it still such a big thing?”
I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Why unfortunately?”
I rolled onto my back, and he stroked my chest, slow, soothing circles that made me feel calm. “Because I long for the day when no one has to come out. When no one has to declare their sexuality to the world. When how they are is how they are, and everyone accepts that.”
Santa bit his lip. “That’s a good thing to look forward to, but I think you’re in for a long wait.”
I thought so too.
I cupped his cheek. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.”
He smiled. “You usually just open your mouth and out it pops. I’m intrigued.”
“When I think of you, it’s always as Santa. But… you have to have a real name, right? Even immortal beings need a name.”
He studied my face for a moment, as though deliberating how to answer. “I do,” he said at last. “I haven’t used it in a long time, but yes.”
When nothing else was forthcoming, I gave him a mock glare. “Well? Are you going to tell me?” Before he could speak I let out a gasp. “Oh my God. You don’t want to tell me because it’s awful. Wait. Let me guess. Frank.”
He narrowed his gaze. “There is nothing wrong with the name Frank.”
My mouth fell open. “Don’t tell me I nailed it on my first guess.”
That got me another snort. “Not even close.”
“Okay then, I’ll try again.” I stared at him, stroking my chin. “Percy.”
All I got was an eye roll for that one.
“Dwayne,” I suggested, my lips twitching.
“Now you’re being funny.”
“Then just put me out of my misery and tell me.”
He sighed. “Okay. My real name is… Nicholas.”
I stared at him. “What’s wrong with that? It’s a lovely name.”
He said nothing.
“No, I mean it,” I protested. “And it’s kinda fitting. After all, doesn’t legend say Santa began as Saint Nicholas?”
He said nothing.
My skin tingled. My pulse raced. “No… Now hold on a minute.”
He said nothing.
Oh. My. God.
“If my phone worked in this realm, you’d better believe I’d be on it right now, Googling when Saint Nicholas was around. So why don’t you just put me out of my misery and tell me?”
He shrugged. “About the third century A.D.”
I was lying naked with an impossibly old man, who looked my age.
“The legends are true?”
He nodded. “I became Santa Claus somewhere between 1773 and 1774. Some Dutch families in New York decided to get together to honor the anniversary of my death. Then, of course, I was Sinterklaas. It was an abbreviated version of Sint Nikolaas, which was the Dutch for Saint Nicholas.” He sat up, and I joined him.
Santa—Nicholas—stared into the fire. “The legends are true. And my appearance in those legends has changed many, many times. Did you know, for example that before 1931, I was depicted as a tall, gaunt man? Then there was the time someone drew me as this spooky-looking elf.” He bit his lip.
“In fact, during the Civil War, I was supposedly an elf who supported the Union.”
The Civil War… I couldn’t get my head around the dates.
“The tan coat gave way to the red coat. And somewhere in 1820, Americans started the tradition of Christmas shopping, and I got incorporated into that. Then someone wrote that poem, The Night Before Christmas.” He grimaced.
“And suddenly I was the chubby guy with a belly that shook when I laughed. I mean, really?”
“And it wasn’t as if you could set people straight, right?”
“Exactly! They put up a life-size Santa model in Philadelphia in 1841. Nothing like me.”
My head was still spinning. “The anniversary of your death?”
“December 6.”
“What year?”
His gaze met mine. “343. Of course, I didn’t really die.”
“But… Saint Nicholas was a real person. People saw you. People knew you.”
He nodded.
“Then you weren’t just… created. Was that a lie?”
“No, just another secret I wasn’t sure how to share. Someone took a human being who liked to give gifts, to be kind and helpful to others, and made him immortal.”
“Did this someone give you a choice?” I demanded.
“Not exactly. I was ill, you see, on the point of death, and the next thing I knew…” Another shrug. “It took a while to adjust.”
A wave of sorrow crashed over me. “I am so, so sorry.”
He frowned. “For what?”
“You’ve been all alone, all that time. I’m amazed it didn’t drive you crazy.”
He got up off the couch and went to add another log to the fire.
“At first, I thought my solitude was the price I paid for immortality. Maybe whoever created me didn’t think I needed a partner.
Maybe they felt I didn’t need the distraction.
It took until 1849 for Mrs. Claus to make an appearance, in a short story by a Christian missionary.
” He turned his head, and I was relieved to see his smile.
“I have to be honest, I laughed when I saw that.”
“When did you know? That you were gay, I mean.”
Nicholas went to the cabinet where he kept the whiskey I’d given him, and poured two glasses. “Before there even was the word gay. Throughout the centuries, I saw so many men who I found attractive, but they could never see me.” He handed me a glass.
“That seems a hell of a price to pay.”
“I know. And I really believed it.”
“Was… was Nicholas gay, way back when?”
He said nothing, but eventually gave a nod.
“Well, there’s a fact that never made it into the history books.”
“Not that I ever told a soul, or even so much as kissed another man.” He swallowed. “I’ve been so alone.” His voice cracked. “And then you walked into that living room, and you could see me. The first person ever to do so, since I’d been made immortal.”
“Wait a second. Someone must’ve seen you, for all those descriptions to suddenly appear.”
He stilled. “You’re right. I never thought about that.
So maybe there have been glimpses through the ages.
I only knew that when I was in people’s homes, I was invisible—until you.
In that moment, I believed God had taken pity on me.
At last, there was someone I could talk to, be friends with.
” He perched on the coffee table in front of me, staring at me.
“For all this time, you have been my best and only friend, and I have loved every minute we’ve spent together.
” His lips twitched. “I have to admit, the minutes have gotten more… interesting in recent years.”
Now I understood. “No wonder the first thing we do is end up in your bed. You’re making up for lost time.” I grinned. “Not that I’m complaining. A year of waiting to touch you does tend to make me a little… desperate.”
“A desperation I know only too well. But it’s not just the physical side of our relationship. There is so much more to you. You calm me. You make me feel I can do anything.” He smiled. “You make me happy.”
Warmth flooded me. “I’m glad about that. And I’m glad someone decided to give you a friend.”
Except I wanted to be so much more than that.
Then I realized how selfish I was being. My needs were a grain of sand compared to the life he’d led, the centuries of solitude he’d endured. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I gave way to them, letting them spill down my cheeks until they dripped from my beard.
He was off the table and kneeling before me in a heartbeat. “Anthony? What’s wrong?” A handkerchief appeared from nowhere, and he dried my tears. “You’re scaring me.”
I swallowed, but there was a lump in my throat. “The thought of you alone here breaks my fucking heart.” I pulled him to me, feeling his warmth, his arms around me, his lips brushing mine in kiss after fervent kiss.
“But I’m not alone now, am I?” He curved his hand around my cheek, looking me in the eye. “I have you.”
“But you only get me for one night a year,” I flung back at him.
“And believe me, I live for that night. Knowing I get to hold you again. Kiss you. Talk to you. Make you laugh.” He sat back on his haunches.
“Throughout the year I think of things I want to tell you, and I write them down so I’ll remember.
But by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, there are too many of them.
And I don’t have the time to fit them all in.
So when I get you here, all I want to do is hold you, make love to you—reconnect with you. ”
“I’m here,” I murmured, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. “And all of me is yours, for as long as we get.”
The trouble was, we didn’t get long enough.
We lay down once more on the couch, his arms around me again. And in that moment I realized this was what I wanted to do for the rest of Christmas Eve—to feel him next to me, to share his warmth.
To let the enormity of what he’d just told me fade a little.
I thought back on his revelations. “So… when you ‘died’…” I hooked my fingers. “How old were you?”
“Seventy-three.”
I gaped. “Wow. I’d have said you were the same age as me.”
“I think they were generous. The first time I saw myself in a mirror, I knew they’d taken off a few years. So maybe we are the same age, after all.”
The right age for me, definitely.
“You know what? You look damn good for a man your age, Nicholas.”
He smiled. “So you’re going to call me by my name?”
I grinned. “There’s a movie title in there somewhere. And yes, if that’s okay.”
His eyes were warm. “More than okay.”
“Of course,” I added. “You know what this makes you, right?”
“Enlighten me.”
I grinned. “The biggest cradle robber of all time.”
He laughed. “It gets better.” When I gave him a quizzical glance, his eyes twinkled. “Well, you always were into older guys.”