Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
CESAR - CHRISTMAS EVE
Tonight I’d finally see Elias, he’d open the books and learn I was his Secret Santa. He’d read my card about the bus and our “date” for Christmas Day. Elias would think it was only a friend thing, so I’d have to explain. Romance him or something. Make it clear I wanted sex.
I should be excited. I’d waited for so long to get to this point. And there was no use in waiting for Kieran. I liked Elias. I did. So, why was my stomach knotted? Before the party, I drove to the park. Sat on our bench. The air was cold and biting. The trees bare of leaves, vulnerable in their starkness.
The Coburns always did the Secret Santa presents early, before the main guests arrived. It was all jokey gifts usually, a fun family thing before they got to the bigger presents on Christmas morning.
But I wasn’t joking. Would Elias think I was? I tried to summon up Elias’s face. It had been months since I’d seen him, and for some reason, all I could picture was his latest photo in some magazine his mother had shown us last week, where he’d been shot in black and white, looking gorgeous and moody. A beautiful stranger. The real Elias wasn’t a stranger, of course, but I was having trouble picturing him beyond the magazine. The harder I tried the more my mind conjured Kieran.
My fingers tightened on the bench. All this time planning the Secret Santa date, was it to woo Elias, or to put off asking him out? No matter how much I pretend and scheme to make it happen, he wasn’t the brother I wanted.
I dressed slowly for the party. Mami was meeting me there, so I took my time. Changed my sweater twice. Put a little hair product in, a dab of cologne. Then I cursed, toweled the product out. I didn’t want to look like I was trying…
I wandered around my empty apartment. Kieran was right about my lack of décor. It was so lonely here. I vowed to consider looking for a pet after New Year’s, because the way this plan was headed, I wouldn’t be with a human companion any time soon.
I was going to give Elias his books, and take him to the bus tomorrow, since Cybil and Jane had already gone to all the trouble, and I’d already paid them for the special date. What I wasn’t going to do was ask Elias out. Or kiss him. Or ask to date him for real. That was never going to be reality. Deep down, I had always known I wouldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t be in love with one brother and date another. Thinking being with Elias would “cure” my feelings for Kieran was insanity.
I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. At some point, I’ll have to confess to Kieran… everything. Hopefully, our friendship would survive. Kieran. As terrified as I was to confess my love for him, I needed to be free of the secret. We would talk, Kieran would be his usual kind self… Sure, it might be awkward for a time, but I have to believe we’d move past it. And only then did I stand a chance of ever finding a love that might be reciprocated.
Or I could beg Kieran: Please, love me. I’d stroke the side of his face, tracing the shape of his jawline. I’d tell him I was in love with him, my voice cracking on the words. Kieran would stare at my mouth. He’d lean closer. His beautiful soft lips seeking mine. I snorted. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
Changing a third time, into an older, worn sweater, I grabbed my keys and left.
When I arrived, the house was decorated with so much Christmas stuff, it bordered on tacky. I loved it, especially the Santa sled and reindeer on the roof. It was always there, perched at the center of the roof, multicolored lights underneath. A determined Santa holding the reins.
As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed Mami wasn’t there yet. She didn’t like to cook most days, not when I was a kid and not now, but on Christmas, she always brought her Pulpo al Olivo, not that too many people at the party were willing to try grilled octopus. Too bad ’cause it was delicious. As a teen, I didn’t appreciate her efforts. I wanted things like the buttered noodles we had a Kieran’s house. Now I loved the special Peruvian dish. She was going to drive herself over. That way she could also leave earlier and go to mass. Mami could accept her Peruvian dishes going uneaten, so long as she honored La Noche Buena, as it was called in Peru, and see the church’s lovely Nativity scenes.
Family dinner at the Coburns’ happened at least once a month since the older siblings had left home, and now the house was even more packed with a constant flow of boyfriends or girlfriends, and one husband thanks to Kieran’s sister. Once grandkids came, it would be bursting. Tonight was different. The Christmas Eve party the Coburns gave was legendary.
Usually at least eighty or so folks crammed in the tiny house, often spilling out to the backyard, regardless of the weather. But only the special few took part in the Sunday dinners or got to draw names for the Coburn Secret Santa.
I wanted to come over earlier, but needed to baby my ankle. Besides, I trusted Kieran to be true to his word. Kieran had the family draw last Sunday, and even without Elias or myself there, he’d managed to have Elias’s name drawn for me. Tonight we’d exchange the presents and opt to reveal (or not reveal) who was the Secret Santa. This was done a little before the other guests arrived. So, I was nervous for it.
When I rang the doorbell, the Coburns’ giant dogs and youngest sibling all rushed me. As they charged at me, I had no time for nerves.
“Cesar!” Samson threw himself into my arms as the two slobbering dogs barked. “Now the fun can start! Wanna fight me?”
“Course I do.” I pumped my bicep for Samson, who let out a squeal and demanded to feel it.
“I’m taking karate.” Samson did a quick kick, just missing my kneecap.
“Hey! Watch his leg. Cesar already hurt his ankle,” Kieran shouted, coming to greet me.
We ignored Kieran as I tickled Samson in response.
I was lucky to have a good home with my mother. But the sibling experience, the teasing and the silliness, and the love—it was all something I’d never had. Sometimes it was hard to be the only one helping Mami, trying to protect her, shoulder her burdens. I wouldn’t change it because it made me who I am today, but it hadn’t been easy.
I grabbed Samson’s hand and pulled the boy to his feet.
“Rematch?”
“Maybe later.” I ruffled his hair.
“You won’t fight after dinner. Mom made her meat stuffed shells and focaccia bread. Along with all the regular Christmas stuff.”
“Oh, God, I love her homemade focaccia.”
“Exactly, you’ll be way too stuffed to get on the floor and wrestle.”
“Buzzkill,” Samson accused his brother, and stuck out his tongue.
Kieran rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, brat?”
“Bruh, we haven’t even started the party yet.” Samson wrinkled his nose. “And how much cologne did you slap on? You reek of it. Doesn’t he, Cesar?”
“Don’t bother answering,” Kieran ordered me. “And it’s a new soap, not cologne. It’s called Christmas Jubilee.”
“Stinks like Christmas junk.”
Kieran took my hand. “Cesar’s coming with me.” He led me away from a pouting Samson. “Were we that bratty at his age?”
“Way worse.” I nudged him. “You especially.”
He snorted. “True. I gave Reid and Elias endless shit. But at least we never used that horrible brain rot lingo.”
“Samson’s always eager to impress or annoy you. Whichever he can get.”
“It’s you he’s trying to impress.” He led me into the kitchen. “Want an early cookie?”
“Always.” I took a frosted Christmas tree cookie from the tray he offered.
“And don’t worry, I got these too.” He put the tray aside and rummaged a moment in the back of the pantry. “Ta da.”
“You don’t like candy canes,” I said.
“No kidding. But you do. So have at it. Whatever you don’t eat, we can stick on the tree. Ready for tonight?”
“What?” I blinked. I’d been staring into his eyes, dreaming.
Kieran gave me a small smile. “Elias and the con.”
“Oh, yeah.” I rubbed my thumb over one of the plastic wrapped candy cane, before slipping it into my pocket.
“Aren’t you eating that?”
“I’m saving it.”
“I got you an entire box. Eat one.” He unwrapped one and dangled the cane near my lips.
I took it, biting down, crunching on the sticky candy. “Happy?” I asked him, once I’d swallowed.
Kieran was about to reply when we got interrupted. One thing about life at the Coburns’ house, it was hard to have one-on-one conversations.
“Cesar! My gawd! I haven’t seen ya in forever,” Gianna-Bella squealed. I hugged her to me, always my favorite of the Coburn girls. “I bet on your last fight.”
“Did you?”
“Fuck, yeah. And thanks for the win.”
“I aim to serve.”
“Give this man some eggnog,” she ordered Kieran.
“Or we have this cool cocktail. I stole the idea from the bar.” Kieran gestured to a giant bowl, a rich red liquid with rainbow gobs of ice cream floating in it.
“Is that cranberry juice with scoops of sherbet or something?” Gianna-Bella wrinkled her nose.
“Among other things. It matches your lips,” Kieran teased. Gianna-Bella was known for her vibrant lipsticks and Spidery-lash mascara. She was also a razor-sharp attorney, the person to call if you ever spent a night in jail.
“Actually, I’ll stick to water for now.”
“Same,” I said.
“Boring. I’m having eggnog and punch.” He turned to me. “You still owe me a Pisco Sour.”
“New Year’s,” I promised.
“Sure, I’ll believe it when you make me one.”
“Oh, there’s John! I haven’t seen him in an age. Kisses.” Gianna-Bella smooched the air and ran off without a water.
“Still chasing the boys?”
“Yeah, until she catches somebody, then she loses interest.”
“Another Coburn heartbreaker.”
“Who’s a heartbreaker?” Mrs. Coburn asked. She had an “I Put Out for Santa” apron tied at her ample waist.
“You are, Mom. The original.” Kieran grinned.
“Oh, go on. Silly boy. And are you drinking two different things? That’s a good way to get sick, Kieran.”
“Cast iron stomach, Mom. Need one to be a Coburn Plumber. Along with heartbreaker.”
Mrs. Coburn’s eyes met mine. “Heartbreaking is nothing to be proud of.” Sometimes, I thought Kieran’s mother knew my secret. She was attentive to people’s feelings. I tried to hide how giddy Kieran made me feel around her, but one time I was mooning over him, helping him with math homework, and I swear she winked at me.
Kieran reached for another cookie. She swatted his arm. “I’m not cleaning your red and green holiday barf.”
She was different from my mom in almost every way. Mami would arrive in her good dress and pearls. Mrs. Coburn was wearing a Christmas apron and sweats. Even so, Mrs. Coburn was a beauty, unlike her husband who was strong but had a face like a bulldog.
“Sophia Lauren here is why I have such good-looking kids,” Mr. Coburn always joked, and his Italian wife’s name was also Sophia. “Good thing they don’t take after my ugly Irish mug.” Then he’d smother her with a giant hug, and she’d pretend to push him away, but would always laugh. She’d protest that the kids had his eyes. Finally, she’d give into his hug. They must have the same routine a few times a year, like their marriage has this standup routine for others. Kieran used to be embarrassed by it, but I never tired of the Sophia jokes.
She was arranging the giant platter of fried chicken, stuffed shells, breads, bowls of macaroni and cheese, and her famous brussel sprouts casserole which nobody ate. She made it every year regardless. The family didn’t do a fancy sit-down dinner. She preferred laidback events, where she continuously brought out more and more food, while her guests gathered in various sections of the house. The music was always extra loud and so were the voices of her family. “Noisy joy,” she called it. Mrs. Coburn loved parties, desserts, big dogs, and her family. She joked that was the actual order of things.
I used to compare her to Mami, who merely tolerated parties and dogs. Mami refused to get a pet that had to “eat or poop,” liked a quiet house to read, and used to survive on liquid lunches of soda. She turned to religion to find forgiveness for my father, but her morals were set. Were they friends? Yes, but mostly because of me and Kieran. We were what they’d discuss if left alone.
“I’m so hot, can we please turn on the air?” Kieran’s oldest and very pregnant sister Katerina-Frances waddled toward us.
“In December? Your dad would go ballistic.”
“A fan?”
“Here.” I reached for the kitchen fan’s cord and yanked it.
“Thank you. Finally, somebody helps.” She blew me a kiss and collapsed into the chair directly under the fan. “And Greg Junior here has just been renamed Cesar Junior.” She patted her stomach.
I smiled and turned the fan another notch higher for her. “Not Gregory-Francisco or something?” I teased. “Or Hercules?”
“Hell, no. Our weird tradition of names ends with Samson.”
“That sweater has seen better days.” Kieran brushed his hand near my neck and across the width of my shoulder. “It’s got threads hanging here, blowing from the fan.” He leaned in, making me catch my breath, and yanked a straggly piece of my sweater. Instinctively, I inhaled.
“Elias is here!” shouted Samson.
Kieran stared at me. He licked the corner of his lips where there was a little frosting.
My hands went clammy, and I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. I should tell Kieran why I began this stupid scheme with his brother. I should tell him the truth. My heart raced. Why was he staring at me like that? His face all serious, normally sky-filled eyes, dark? I opened my mouth, but it wriggled like a fish on a hook. No words.
Kieran looked away. “We’d better go say hi to Elias,” he said.