Chapter 19 #3
“Didn’t think I should wait any later when you guys were delayed. I think we still found a good one even though it’s so close to the holiday. Right, hun?”
My mom gave my dad a peck on the cheek. “It’s lovely. Are you two sure you’re going to be up for some decorating? I know it was a long drive.” She was possibly working to change the subject herself because that question—asked and answered.
Randall seemed happy for the change of subject. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, all three of you, for including me.”
Dad slapped one hand to Randall’s knee as he passed him a plate full of pizza with the other. “Thanks for being here, man. It’s really great to have you back.” There may have been a little catch in this throat.
My dad really did wear his heart on his sleeve, and it got me thinking about how close my parents must have been to Randall.
I searched my feelings, and there was some guilt there, but it was so outweighed by my other feelings that I tried to ignore it.
Their friendship had happened a long time ago.
It was a different time, and if their wedding pictures were anything to go by, all three were different people.
We had just spent hours alone in the car and days alone in New York, and all I wanted was to get Randall by himself, to ask him how he was feeling, and to maybe remind him of how I was feeling as well.
Because much as I’d told him I’d give him space, that didn’t mean I couldn’t be concerned about him.
He’d just done something almost twenty-five years in the making by coming out to my folks.
I inhaled my pizza and jumped up. “Okay, tree time!”
I didn’t wait for a response, I just pulled one of the boxes to the coffee table, my dad reacting quickly by sliding the pizza boxes out of the way. I popped open the top of the storage bin and got to it, humming along to the holiday music as I went.
Mom left a half-eaten slice to come join me, picking up an ornament that we had gotten during my teen years and holding it up.
She explained to Randall, “We usually try to buy a Christmas ornament each time we travel. When Aus was, what, about fifteen, we went to the mountains in Tennessee; it was so peaceful there. Just a week of fishing and hiking and reading books.”
I chimed in. “Yeah, for a kid who grew up at the beach, the mountains were a novelty. I loved it there. Then when we were touring colleges and we made the drive up to Hampstead and passed by where you are now in Pinesboro, I fell in love all over again.”
My face softened at the memories, but Randall’s eyes went wide, so I quickly added, “With the mountains and the climate and all those green, rolling hills on campus. Everything’s so green!
Don’t get me wrong,” I rambled on, “I love coming home to the beach, especially in summer, but I really love Hampstead.”
Dad put his plate down and was standing as he chimed in, looking at his old friend, “I always say it’s a good thing there are all those professors and university employees up there who have kids. I fully expect Aus to stay in Upstate New York and open up a practice.”
Dad plucked another ornament from the box. “A less novel vacation.” He swung his ornament around so that we could all see the two anthropomorphized mice smiling back at us.
“But still fun!” I defended.
I noticed that Randall was done eating, his plate in his lap as he took a sip from his beer.
“If you don’t come and help us, Randall, we’ll be here all night, because there’s a story for every one of these.” I didn’t know what was running through his brain as he contemplated it, but I was determined to take matters into my own hands.
I picked up an ornament, one I had bought a few years back with my college’s logo on it, and stood before him.
For a second, I thought I saw Randall’s eyes cloud over under those heavy frames as if he were nervous about what I might be up to.
I waggled my brows in acknowledgment of the look and caught a quick smile before Randall’s face turned serious again.
I took his plate, stacking it on top of my father’s.
I reached out a hand for the beer bottle, but Randall took a sip and placed the bottle on the coffee table himself.
“I bought this one my freshman year, I think. The hour before my dad came to pick me up, which was when I realized I was heading home without a single Christmas present.”
Mom laughed. “I didn’t know that. You bought that lovely print of HU’s main entrance that year, with the nice frame.”
“Thank God the campus store was still open!” I shook the ornament in front of Randall, and he rolled his eyes at me, rising and grabbing it.
“Just, place it anywhere?”
“There’s the Randy I know and love!” Dad chimed in.
“You can’t turn a Christmas tree into x’s and o’s, my friend.
It’s just utter chaos. Shit hanging wherever.
Just … let it be utter chaos.” Dad waved his arms above his head in the direction of the tree.
“Although you might be the tallest, so you should aim for some of those higher branches.” My dad beamed at his old friend.
I was beaming at him too, for different reasons.
We all laughed, including Randall, whose face lit up in a way I’d not seen before as he corrected my dad, all of us moving back and forth from the bin to the tree, one ornament at a time.
“It’s ones and twos, Mart. Not x’s and o’s.
And if you gave me until morning, I could probably design a diagram that would have this tree looking much more symmetrical. ”
“Are you saying my tree is crooked, Randy?”
“I’m saying it’s chaotic.”
“Perfect,” my dad declared.
Bruce Springsteen started warning us about being good, and the banter quieted as I swapped bin number one for bin number two.
Dad had left for the garage and returned with a step stool, which I dutifully climbed before he handed me one more ornament, but then Randall took over their distribution.
My mom had taken a step back to admire our work, and Dad joined her, encircling her in his arms as the two pretended to be rock stars, singing along to the Christmas classic.
“Very efficient of you,” I muttered as Randall walked toward me with ornaments hanging off each of his fingers.
I laughed as he realized he couldn’t remove them. He offered a hand up to me, and I began plucking them off one by one. It had taken until box two, but we finally came upon one with a smiling elementary-school-aged Austin, surrounded by painted macaroni.
“Cute kid,” Randall muttered.
I leaned down, eyeing my parents as they blasted out holiday lyrics, and took my time grabbing the next ornament. “I hear some people think he grew up to be pretty hot.”
“You think so?”
“Let’s just say, I know people who think so.”
Randall let out a scoff that brought my parents’ concert to an abrupt end, and I realized what they were seeing: me leaning down, my face close to Randall’s as we flirted and joked.
I took two ornaments and straightened up to place them on the tree before climbing down to move the stool to the other side.
My dad broke the ice. “Looking good, you two.”
I dared a glance down to Randall. “See, that’s what I said!” I did try to keep the flirty tone out of my voice and the dancing laugh from my eyes, but I may have failed. Randall rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, and Mom stared at us like we actually were a couple of extraterrestrials.
“Okay!” she interrupted. “I don’t think we can fit another bauble on that tree. Stay right there, Aus. Honey, find the star for the top. It should be in that box.” She pointed, and Dad bent down to rummage through yet another bin full of holiday decorations.
I stood awkwardly on the step stool, and Randall cleared his throat. He got as far as, “I’m just going …” when my move to look at him had me losing my balance and half falling, half hopping off the step stool.
I stumbled to the floor, landing on my feet but only maintaining my balance because I fell right into Randall’s embrace. His arms were firm around my waist, and mine were just as tight on his shoulders as we worked to keep us both balanced.
Somewhere in the background, I could hear my mother gasping at my fall as we found our footing. I didn’t let go for a beat too long, not breaking apart until my dad stood up, three boxes now open at his feet. “Found it!”
Randall gave my waist a little squeeze before stepping back and reaching up to adjust his glasses, only he wasn’t fast enough.
I got there first and pulled them forward and back over his ears to even them out.
“Parfect,” I said as Randall took a big step back, and my dad invaded my space to shove a silver star in my hands. I didn’t dare look back at my mom.
Randall moved quickly away from the tree, and my mom intercepted him as Dad pulled my attention from the blushing man.
“Good catch, ET,” my mom joked, handing him his beer. I watched him guzzle it before realizing Mom’s intent eyes were on me.
“Thanks, Dad.” I grabbed the star and climbed back up the step stool, my mind focused way more on being back in Randall’s arms again than on our family-decorating traditions or how placing the star was always a special moment.
I was reaching up but dropped my hand and looked at my parents, my dad beaming up at me and my mom looking back and forth from me to Randall, who was still intently focused on his beer.
“Um, I just want to say Merry Christmas. I’m glad to be home and glad to have safely delivered your friend back to you. Do you have your phone, Mom? You should take a picture.”
I waited while Mom retrieved her phone from the counter. Free from her stare, Randall put his beer on the table and sat back down, still looking nervous but slightly relieved as well.
“Get in the shot, honey,” Mom ordered, but Randall shot up and reached out to her.
“You get in there too. I’ll take the picture.
” At least from this angle, my parents couldn’t see me smiling like a lovesick fool at the man behind the camera.
It didn’t occur to me in the moment that my mom would be able to stare at me smiling at Randall all she wanted once he handed her phone back.
Mom and Dad stood and watched as I positioned the star, and Randall continued taking pictures.
I dismounted much more gracefully when I was done, and we stood back and admired the tree.
After a few beats, my dad decided, “Whelp! That’s done. You two must be tired after your drive. I know I am.” Dad embraced me in a bear hug. “It’s good to have you home, son.”
He attacked Randall next. “Randy, man. I can’t believe you’re here. London’s loss is our gain, for sure.” Randall looked stiff in Dad’s arms. I felt Mom’s hand on my upper arm as we watched the two men, and I turned in time to catch her eyeing me.
“It is good to have you home, son. We’ll see you both in the morning.”
“Come on, Mart. Let the man go. He’ll still be here in the morning.” Mom leaned down to pick up the pizza boxes from the table, but I stopped her.
“You all go on up. I’ll clean up.”