Julian #2
I fall silent, and my father takes a large gulp of air and reaches for the biggest box of his four gifts as well.
Inside is a pair of skiing goggles.
“Thank you,” Dad says earnestly, though I can see the confusion on his face. He has never gone skiing before.
Abraham lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Are you ready to take some lessons, old man?” he asks my father. “You and me, a summer holiday. We’re heading off to Mt. Hood for a few days.”
Dad’s eyes are so wide they just might fall out.
“All expenses paid, of course,” Abraham adds.
“Wow, I—that’s very generous. I look forward to it, Master Abraham,” my father stutters out.
Abraham looks pleased with himself, and as the three Chastains on the floor continue to open their gifts, my father and I do the same.
I open a nice pair of black loafers and a collection of cologne with the brand name Creed on the front. Dad is gifted a nice leather belt and a brand-new iPhone to replace the little flip phone he’s had for years.
When all that’s left are our envelopes, we look at each other nervously. Surely it’s not some kind of notice, a termination of employment? I mean, they clearly seem to really like us.
With a shrug, Dad begins to open his envelope carefully. I follow suit. Before I can fully remove the paper inside of mine, I hear his breath catch; a few seconds later, mine does the same.
Inside the envelope is a check for 5,000 dollars.
“What?” I ask softly, staring confusedly at the many zeroes.
“Master Abraham,” Dad starts, but he doesn’t move to finish his sentence, staring in awe at this check.
“That is the actual bonus,” Abraham says with a slight chuckle.
“A small thank you. Really, gentleman, we love having you here. Jeremy, you are attentive and never complain. You’re a brilliant assistant.
And Julian, the way you care for Abigail and deal with Atticus’s wayward attitude is so special. ”
“Hey!” Atticus demands.
But I’m still staring at the check. I’m shocked and honestly a bit emotional. My father and I have worked hard for what we have; we’ve never been given anything. And now… I don’t know how to swallow this.
“Thank you. Really,” is all I can say.
“Yes, thank you. This is beyond generous,” Dad adds.
Abraham and Theodora smile at us, as if they’re happy to have made the day of two of their employees. I’m waiting for the feeling of being a charity case to set in, but it’s not coming. This doesn’t really feel like that. This just feels like kindness.
“Papa, look! I got a certificate to name a star!” Abigail shouts, and I refocus my attention on the other members of the Chastain family.
Abigail sits surrounded by various toys and clothes, and Atticus is surrounded by his own expensive apparel and shoes.
Atlas is looking at his growing pile with wide, excited eyes. Books and various jewelry containers are littered around him, and he picks up a gift bag and pulls a gold colored, silk sleep set from it.
“Isn’t it beautiful, darling? When I saw it, I knew you had to have it,” Theodora says to her son, and Atlas grins as he looks up at his mother.
“It’s lovely, thank you. I’ll wear it tonight.”
Great, now I know what he’ll be wearing while I think of him in bed.
I reach forward and grab a mug of hot chocolate, though it’s not steaming anymore, and sip on it. I need something to do with my hands.
I watch Atlas for the remainder of the gift opening, though I pretend I’m not. I fiddle with my gifts, smile politely at Abraham and Theodora, and talk idly with my father. But every few seconds, my gaze returns to the man who’s currently glowing from where he sits on the floor.
As everyone interacts, I’m hit with another reminder of how similar Atlas and his mother are. He is picking up the mannerisms and demeanor of a graceful, elegant lady of the house. It makes me wonder if he craves that lifestyle, if he wants someone to take care of him and dominate him.
He’d be good at that. Being submissive and demure, I mean. I can imagine it now: Atlas wandering around an estate as big and beautiful as Chastain Castle in his silky clothes, with his light-as-air footsteps. He’d marry some rich silver fox and be the perfect little husband.
Would he cry and beg and plead on their wedding night? Would he be like his mother and care so much for his children that nothing else in the world seems to matter?
When would he show his husband the devious side of him that I’ve sensed, that I know he keeps hidden away?
A part of me is angry that I’ll never know; terrified that I’ll find out, and it’ll be by living vicariously through some rich man Abraham finds for him.
“Shall we head to the theatre to watch a Christmas movie?” Theodora asks, standing from her spot on the loveseat.
Atticus stands as well, extending a hand to Atlas before he pulls him up in one swift movement. Abigail is already running to the door.
“Julian and I will take our gifts to our rooms and then meet there. Thank you again,” my dad says.
I say my thanks and grab my belongings as well, standing from the couch. As I turn to head for the door, I spot Atlas still standing in the doorway, watching me.
After a moment, a small smile graces his full lips, and he mouths, “Merry Christmas.”
We watch The Polar Express, a very tedious and drawn-out movie. Atlas rests his head on his mother’s lap the entire time, and I spend more of the hour and forty minutes watching the rise and fall of his back than I do watching the screen.
As the credits are rolling, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I read the notification.
Cassie 10:13 a.m.
Merry Christmas, Julian! I’m excited to see you soon.
I smile at the screen, typing out my response.
“Who are you talking to?” Abigail asks, standing on her knees on her chair to look over the seat at me.
“A friend I made in town,” I tell her, sliding my phone back into my pocket.
“You made a friend in town? That’s great!” Abraham exclaims, and I realize I have the attention of the entire room.
“What’s their name?” Dad asks.
“Uh, I made a few friends, actually. But the one I’m texting is named Cassie.”
Atticus’s head whips in my direction.
“Ohh, a lady,” Abigail giggles. “Is she going to be your girlfriend?”
“Well—”
“I’ll go check on Barfred,” Atlas interrupts, standing from where he was sitting next to his mother and abruptly leaving the room.
I stare after him, and something hot and achy fills my chest. What was that about?
“So? This Cassie girl?” Dad pushes.
“No, not my girlfriend,” I inform them. “Just someone I’m friends with.” I have no intention of telling the Chastains and my father that I plan to fuck her because she looks like Atlas.
“What about you, son?” Abraham asks Atticus. “Have a girlfriend?”
“No, Father,” Atticus grumbles, his glaring eyes turning to focus on the now black screen. “I’m not dating right now.”