Nick
Abig blizzard snows everyone in the next day; I get to be a couch potato for the first time in a long while.
I rarely had the time to be this lazy when I was in Ardenia.
I’m catching up on all the Christmas movies I missed over the years.
I spent the morning with Millie’s family watching Elf and The Polar Express while decorating sugar cookies.
Now that the snow has let up a bit, Adam takes the boys outside to build a snowman. Millie puts on Love Actually. Outside, snowman building quickly devolves into throwing each other into snow drifts.
“Should we go out there and join them?” I ask. “I don’t want to take you from family bonding.”
“Nah. We bonded over cookies. I’m on a mom break. Quick quiz: what’s your favorite pizza place?”
“Matthew’s pizza.”
“Good. And what do you do for work?”
“I’m an accountant.”
“Very good.” Millie and I came up with a backstory for me as well as researched some Baltimore details in case it comes up. I was caught off guard when asked about my high school. Luckily, Americans love naming things after George Washington.
Millie suggested the job idea because nobody ever asks follow up questions when you say you’re an accountant. It’s the Baltimore of professions.
“How often do you get to DC?” she asks.
“Baltimorians don’t like going to DC. The traffic is a nightmare.”
She gives me a thumbs up. “When in doubt, just say traffic is a nightmare. People love talking about traffic.”
On the TV, the little boy reenacts the Titanic scene with his stepdad Liam Neeson.
“You want to know something fucked up?” Millie asks.
“No, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”
“This boy is only five years younger than Keira Knightley. She wasn’t even eighteen when she filmed this, and they have her playing a bride. Meanwhile, this kid gets to be a preschooler. This movie is so messed up in so many ways.”
“Should we put on another movie then?”
“No. Why would we do that? Love Actually is a classic!”
Hank texts in the middle of the movie. My stomach flutters like the pages of Colin Firth’s character’s manuscript getting swept into the lake by a big breeze. Did they not have laptops in 2003?
Hank: Are we still on for tomorrow morning at Summers Rink?
Nick: 7 sharp.
Hank: Nice. We’re going to shark all that rust off in time for Sunday’s game.
Hank: *shake
Nick: I like shark better.
Hank: Yes! Shark should be a verb. It’s already a week.
“What’s so funny?” Millie turns to me from her oversized armchair, where she’s curled under a chunky blanket.
“Oh…it’s…nothing. Just coordinating for tomorrow’s practice.”
“Tell Hank I say hi.” Her smile is all-knowing.
Nick: Are you snowed in as well?
Hank: Yep. I’m watching A Christmas Story.
By yourself? I want to ask. I realize that despite how comfortable I feel around him, I know little about Hank’s personal life.
Nick: We watched The Polar Express and Elf. Now watching Love Actually.
Hank: Isn’t it weird how there’s a whole porn subplot in Love Actually?
Nick: What’s Christmas cheer without porn?
That may be the first time I ever texted about porn. It’s a good thing nobody in the palace has access to this phone.
Hank: And why is Hugh Grant’s love interest constantly called fat? She’s hot!
I deflate at the mention of a girl being hot. Is that his cue to me that he’s straight? He’s a small-town hockey player. It’s likely that he’s straight. It’s so hard to tell whether Hank’s friendliness is just that, or if there’s more under the surface. Now I get why people say dating is hard.
Nick: Some guys like full-figured women.
Or full-figured guys. Guys with a chest, stomach, and ass that’s as big as their smile.
You have to stop! I tell myself. Hank is a friend. A few days outside of royal control and you’re forgetting all about your powers of suppression.
“Do you know when you talk to yourself, your lips move?” Millie sips her mug of hot tea. I turn as red as their Christmas tree skirt.
“Just enjoy your beverage and problematic Christmas movie and leave me alone.”
“Whatever is going on with you and your new teammate, don’t stop.”
“Do you ever get tired of being a corrupting influence on me, Millie?”
“No,” she whispers into her mug.
I wake up the next morning at 5:54, six minutes before my alarm goes off. Adam has to go to the farm early, so he agrees to drive me to the rink.
I know it’s counterproductive to take a shower before athletic practice, but I tell myself the shower will wake me up and not that I’m showering for Hank.
My royal phone buzzes in my dresser drawer as I’m half-dressed. I promised Agnes I’d keep it charged and on in case of emergencies. I open the call to a FaceTime. Agnes averts her eyes at my naked chest.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“It’s okay, Agnes. I’m getting dressed.” I scramble to throw on an undershirt. “I’m decent.”
“Apologies for interrupting you this morning.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I wanted to give you an update. The king was upset about your abrupt vacation, but I handled it.”
I don’t know what that means, and Agnes’s firm stare tells me not to ask.
“Thank you, Agnes.”
“He is mandating that you return on Christmas Eve so you can be here for Christmas Day festivities.”
“Understood.” I clock the chocolate advent calendar that Millie gave me. The countdown to Christmas just got a little less sweet.
“Your Highness!” Agnes presses her face up to the screen. “Your forehead! What happened?”
I rub the red mark. “It doesn’t hurt. I slipped on some ice and had a little fall. I’m alright.”
“Let me find a doctor out there who can treat the wound.”
“It’s really alright, Agnes. It will be gone by the time I’m back in Ardenia.”
“Are those Americans hurting you?”
Well, one did smack me in the head with a tree stump, but I decided it’s best to keep Agnes out of the loop on that one.
“I have to go, Agnes. Take care.” I replace the phone back in the dresser drawer and close it tight.
I check myself out in the full-length mirror. I’m wearing a pair of Adam’s jeans, a thermal, and his puffy vest. No trace of royal here. Just an average guy from Baltimore ready to play hockey.