Chapter Thirteen #2
I didn’t realize a challenge had been thrown down, but when the song changes to “Rockin Around the Christmas Tree”, Jason approaches me, sweaty bare chest and all, and yanks me off the couch where I was cocooning for the day.
Before I have a chance to gain my footing, one of his large hands presses to my lower back, sealing our bodies together while the other takes my left hand and holds it out like we are about to waltz.
But this isn’t a waltzing song. This tune requires frivolity, light-heartedness, and lots of movement.
Jason sweeps me into a twirl around the room while I struggle to keep up with his pace.
We’re making a circle around the couch as he corrals my two left feet into something that resembles a dance.
If I didn’t know any better, you’d think I was dancing.
I’m good with my feet when I’m playing sports, but anything faster than a gentle sway on the dance floor is out of my comfort zone.
Yet here I am, rocking around the proverbial Christmas tree with Jason Alder on Christmas morning.
I never would have guessed this would be in my future.
I shouldn’t even be here for this Christmas.
It’s like Jason intervened with the universe’s plans and now I’m smiling and laughing at how silly I feel dancing around the living room with him.
Even he starts to smile a bit. Try as he might to hide it, the left corner of Jason’s mouth pulls up ever so slightly to reveal a hint of a dimple.
There have been very rare occasions where he graces us with a smile.
It blinds me every time to see the contrast of his hardened features softening to a smile with something that one might call happiness.
It dawns on me that maybe he always looks unhappy because he is. Even in high school. All the years we’ve orbited around each other in our respective circles and somehow I’ve never seen him smile or look remotely entertained until I started living here.
Even prom night in the bathroom. He wasn’t happy, per se, he was determined. Horny, maybe. No smiling was involved.
I can’t help but wonder what his smile would look like at full force.
Jason releases me half way through the song by twirling me under his arm so I come face to face with Dylan who takes Jason’s position and we start to dance with the same gaiety. I can’t contain my laughter. This is just too wild. It feels so normal but also completely new and enthralling.
I’ve never had a Christmas with so much joy and it’s only eight in the morning.
When the song ends I curtsy to both the boys and return to my spot on the couch where my book is waiting on the last page I read and my coffee is cold. But I don’t care.
After a while I decide to dress for the day, one of the other items from their mother is a quilt pattern maxi skirt that I pair with a long sleeve top also given to me.
And, for once, I opt to go barefoot, blank toenails and all.
I don’t think my feet are very pretty so I always hide them.
But at this point, I don’t care. I should just be happy I’m alive.
I feel good today. I don’t know if it’s because of the holiday, but I’ll soak up that feeling as much as possible.
We cook. We listen to music. We eat more food than we can contain and share a couple bottles of wine. It’s a perfect leisurely holiday.
Then it’s present time. I wasn’t sure if the two even exchanged presents but I pulled a couple things together for them anyway. Obviously, I didn’t have the means to order last minute gifts on for Dylan and Jason, so I had to get crafty which is wildly outside of my comfort zone.
I don’t expect anything in return, I’m sure they prepare for Christmas while they can still get to and from town. But it feels wrong not to attempt gifts even if they will probably throw them away right after opening.
Dylan opens his present from Jason first, a vintage hat that looks like it time traveled straight from the 1940s. It looks like it was made for Dylan, suiting his features and style so well. Almost like he was missing the hat this whole time.
Jason opens his gift from Dylan next, a new pair of work boots. So practical. But also so on brand for Jason. Dylan explains that Jason only ever wants practical gifts for birthdays and holidays. He’s too frugal to spend money on himself and too selfless to ask for anything frivolous.
“Then you’re going to hate my gift to you,” I tell him. “It’s not practical at all.”
Out of deep curiosity, he takes the poorly wrapped present from under the tree addressed to him.
Brows dropping to shield his eyes, he unwraps the box I found in their overflowing recycling bin since the trash service hasn’t been here in almost two months.
I reconstructed it and put the hand drawn portrait of him atop a layer of crumpled tissue paper.
I drew it from memory, but it was the moment he shot the elk the day before Thanksgiving.
I tried to capture the intensity and lethal focus in his gaze.
My style isn’t very precise, but I like to think it holds emotion.
At least, that’s what I try to depict in my drawings.
Eager to see if he received a similar gift, Dylan rips into his gift to find similar packaging of his portrait. I drew an image of him bent over a lieth working on a part for one of their orders. He’s so serious when he works, which doesn’t match the playfulness of his personality.
I make a mental note to draw us dancing around the living room this morning, something to commemorate the life he injects in this house.
Without him, it would be a dull place to live.
He’s definitely the heart of this place.
He’s the Yin to his brother’s Yang. And I believe everyone needs that balance.
“Mara,” he gapes at the drawing, “these are incredible. I didn’t know you could draw.”
“Kind of,” I confess. “I’ve never had any formal training. I just do it to calm my mind. I normally draw on a tablet but it was nice to get back to my roots with good old paper and pencil.
“Sorry I don’t have anything more for you, considering all you’ve done for me. But since I didn’t know I’d be spending Christmas with you, I didn’t exactly pack gifts in my car when I went for my drive all those weeks ago.”
“These are more than enough,” he breathes.
I turn my hesitation and insecurity to Jason. “I know it’s not practical but do you like it?”
Without taking his hardened eyes off the drawing, he nods slowly.
I don’t know what he sees in the drawing, but that’s the beauty of art, it looks different to every person.
I hope he sees the strong, confident man determined to survive.
When he shot that elk, I saw a killer. But after a lot of consideration, I saw so much more.
I’m not sure I want to watch all my meals die right before my eyes, but I’m starting to understand their way of life a bit more. I’m starting to see the beauty and purity of providing for yourself as opposed to constant reliance.
Dylan and Jason don’t strike me as doomsday preppers, but if the day ever comes that the world crashes down around us, they can still survive.
They don’t rely on grocery stores to provide all their food.
They don’t rely on a million different tradesmen to keep their home operating.
Even though they pay for electricity, I fully believe they’d figure out how to generate electricity on their own.
There’s one present left under the tree with my name on it. I stare at it for a split second wondering if they wrapped up a random household item for me just so I’d have something to open this morning. They didn’t exactly plan for me either.
Taking it in my hands, the weight has me suspicious.
It feels like an L shaped block of steel, which isn’t far off from the truth.
As soon as I clear the red and black checkered wrapping paper my eyes fix on a beautifully engraved pistol.
I should be terrified to be holding a gun, I should be worried that their idea of a good gift is a gun.
But I’m not.
I’m floored by the intricate paisley detail of the engravings carefully etched into the metal.
And I’m even more touched knowing they probably spent hours making this for me.
Me! I know how much they charge rich guys online for one of their handcrafted firearms and here they are just handing one over to me as a Christmas present.
I lift disbelieving eyes to Jason first, seeing the glimmer of hope there, hope that I’ll appreciate the gesture. Then turn my gaze to Dylan who’s bright smile brings mist to my dry eyes.
“You made this for me?” I ask dubiously. A steady nod comes from Jason to confirm what I already know. “But this must have taken you both hours?”
“Well, we wanted to do something special for you. Besides, it’s not like we have a bunch of gifts for women lying around.” Dylan laughs.
“But you’ve already done so much for me.” I remind them. “My crappy drawings pale in comparison to this.”
“They aren’t crappy,” Dylan insists while Jason conveys the same sentiment with a shake of his head. “In fact, they’re on the same level. They’re both from the heart and hard work.”
There’s a keen crumpling in my heart I haven’t felt before.
I should have felt this before. I’ve received some beautiful gifts from my parents before.
Designer bags, the latest phone, anything I ask them for.
But nothing has ever held so much sentiment as this.
No one has ever made me anything, not even a handmade valentine in grade school.
This is the most selfless gift I’ve ever received.
And it is a gift, a gift of unconditional friendship.
I don’t know how they can see me that way when I’ve been such a burden, but I’m so honored.
I’m not an emotional person but I feel emotion swelling in my throat. Choking it down is no easy feat but I manage as we move on with the rest of our day.
Smoked ham serves as our main course for dinner, accompanied by a variety of delicious, festive side dishes. And red wine, of course.
After the dishes have been washed and Christmas is coming to a close, Dylan puts on an instrumental Christmas record while I read A Christmas Carol aloud, lounging against the arm of the couch with my knees bent in the air, covered by a thick blanket.
All of this is far too wholesome and pure to feel real.
We actually feel like a family. I don’t think I’ve ever relaxed in my parents’ presence.
If I’m around them, there’s a purpose for it, meals, schedule coordinations, social events.
We never watched a movie together or listened to music.
I don’t think my parents ever read me a bedtime story.
I didn’t realize that bothered me until now.
I feel cheated out of a loving relationship with them.
But the sting is softened by the warmth of this moment.
This is the first time I don’t want to leave when the snow melts. For a split second, I entertain the thought of what it would be like if I stayed here.
But that’s impossible. I’m not related to them. And even though we are friends—for lack of a better word—that doesn’t mean we can all live together and resume normal life with that major change come march.
So I smush that flicker of hope beneath reality and close the book after reading the final line. I peek over the top of the closed book to see Jason watching me. He stares so unabashedly, which is normal for him, but with how I’m already feeling, his stare feels heavier.
I replace the book to the shelf where I found it and wave with a two finger salute before carrying my sullen body upstairs to bed.
This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had. And that thought makes me feel a combination of guilt and remorse.
After I’ve showered and changed into one of Jason’s t-shirts, I lay in bed restless with energy and a mind that won’t shut off.
Jason.
Stay.
Go.
The gift.
The want.
The need.
God, I’m so agitated. I tried masturbating after the night of my birthday but every orgasm felt like something my body was supposed to do but didn’t really want to do.
A basic action like eating or walking. They didn’t have the same ecstasy that Jason gave me.
His tongue, his fingers, they were unlike any fuck I’ve ever had, sending me down a spiral of pleasure I didn’t realize I was capable of.
I’ve given myself some intense orgasms before with vibrators, and I’ve had some entertaining fucks but the two men I’ve slept with never made me come that hard.
I always had to focus, concentrate, and work hard to achieve orgasms that seemed extreme at the time but could never hold a candle to that night.
If it’s that intense with just his tongue and fingers, what would his cock feel like?
Fuck this. We’re grown adults who can have casual sex. It doesn’t have to be more than that. And I know he’s just as desperate as me. So I decide I’ll be the bigger person and initiate what we both want.
I throw the covers off me, throw the door open before shutting it softly behind me, and stride over to Jason’s door on gentle feet. I can hear soft music from inside his room before I open the door and sneak in as quickly as possible, irrationally afraid Dylan will catch me.
As soon as I close the door and lock it, I turn around and back myself against the hard door, mildly taken aback by what I see.