Chapter 18
TYLER
BEST SURPRISE EVER
Tyler loved Christmas morning.
Bing Crosby’s Christmas album played on a small bluetooth speaker, and the whole house smelled like the cinnamon and apples he’d sautéed in butter.
Rowan had torn through the wrapped presents under the tree, and was fully immersed in playing with the set of wooden farm animals that Tyler’s mom had mailed them.
They were still in their pajamas, and had no plans to change anytime soon.
The scraggly tree they’d gotten on sale was set up in the corner, rainbow lights glowing beside strands of popcorn and cranberries they’d made a few days ago.
Dotty and Sandra had come upstairs earlier with a French toast casserole and half of a glazed ham.
They’d also brought presents for both of them: a pair of butterfly wings for Rowan that strapped onto his back, and a beautiful matcha bowl and a whisk for Tyler.
Tyler and Rowan had worked together on the crochet-hooked potholders they’d made for their downstairs neighbors, picking Muskies colors for Dotty and a combination of pinks and purples for Sandra.
The women had left a while ago to volunteer at the local soup kitchen, a Christmas day tradition they’d shared for as long as they’d been together. Someday, when Rowan was a little older, Tyler hoped to join them.
His mom had called, and, after the Merry Christmas’s and We miss you’s, his mom had, once again, brought up moving back home.
Tyler had wished, for a moment, that she and his dad could acknowledge the magic he’d created for himself and Rowan this year.
That they could see him doing exactly what he’d set out to do: providing for himself and Rowan on his own.
Tyler’s phone buzzed on the couch beside him. He picked it up, and smiled as soon as he saw who the message was from.
Jamie
Merry Christmas! When you get a chance, go look outside
Putting his phone in his pocket, Tyler grabbed their jackets. “Kiddo,” he said, shoving his feet into his snow boots. “I think there’s something outside.”
That got Rowan’s attention. His head shot up. “Reindeer?”
Tyler laughed. “Maybe. Let’s get your boots on and check it out.”
They climbed down the stairs and out the door, Tyler following right behind Rowan.
“Papa, look!”
There, in the middle of the front yard, was a snowman. It was imperfect, as the best snowmen should always be–the bottom ball a bit lopsided, and one of the stick arms significantly longer than the other.
But it had a long carrot nose and two round, black, button eyes, and wore a now-familiar hockey jersey with the white C embroidered on the chest.
Rowan ran down to get a closer look, laughing and jumping as he chattered about how amazing the snowman was. Tyler’s whole body felt warm as he watched, content in the knowledge that his son was happy, that he’d pulled off Christmas on their own.
Only, he wasn’t on his own. Not this year.
Dotty and Sandra had played a part in their day, and now, here was a snowman–a fucking snowman–made by the man who’d crashed into their life with a broken hand and a flimsy right hook.
Jamie was a part of it now. A part of the life Tyler was building for himself, and for Rowan.
“Papa, there’s something on the steps!”
Tyler looked down, and sure enough, there was a red gift bag tied with a green ribbon. He picked it up and looked at the tag. For Tyler, it read.
He pulled apart the tissue paper, and when he saw what was inside he inhaled sharply, his hands trembling as he held the gift closer.
It was a small notebook, bound in soft leather. As Tyler carefully opened the cover, several pieces of paper fell out of the pages inside. He picked them up.
The first: an annual pass to the Children’s Museum.
The second was a printed photo of Tyler and Rowan. It was artfully blurry, but it was clearly them.
A hand covered half of Tyler’s face, doing a poor job of concealing the curve of a smile.
His eyes were closed, deep laugh lines extending from their corners, like he’d been captured mid-laugh.
He looked joyful. Rowan was right beside him, his cheek pressed against Tyler’s face and a big grin showing off his teeth.
Jamie must have taken the picture at the Children’s Museum. Instantly, it became Tyler’s favorite picture of them.
One last paper fell out–a handwritten note.
Merry Christmas, Tyler.
Maybe you can write some words here, when the time is right.
XX
Jamie
His emotions tangled together. There was a sense of being overwhelmed battling with gratitude, and a feeling of happiness that felt powerful enough to warm his body in the cold.
Jamie must have remembered that day in the coffee shop, when Tyler had opened up to him about how much he missed writing poetry.
Tyler grabbed his phone from his pocket. He wanted to call Jamie, wanted to hear his voice in his ear, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to bother Jamie while he was with his family. He didn’t want to interrupt his life.
Maybe there would be time to talk later. Tyler pressed his lips together as he typed out a message.
Tyler:
Thank you, Jamie. Rowan loves his gift. As do I.
When his phone rang a moment later, Tyler answered. “Hi,” he said, already smiling.
“You saw it?” Jamie asked, his voice warm and rich in Tyler’s ear. He could hear the soft sound of conversation in the background. “Rowan found his snowman?”
Tyler watched Rowan, who was now running in circles around the snowman shouting gleefully about “Putting the puck!” and “Goalie interference!”
“Can you hear him?” Tyler asked. “He loves it.”
“Yes!” Jamie let out a low laugh. “I’m so glad he likes it.”
Tyler sat down on the front steps, resting his elbows on his knees. “How early did you get up to do this?”
“It wasn’t too bad. I made the rookies help me.”
“Jamie!” Tyler’s voice rose, indignant. “You made them help you on Christmas?”
Jamie laughed again, and Tyler let his eyes close for just a moment, savoring the sound. “They wanted to help,” he protested. “And I had snacks.”
“Are all hockey players food-motivated?”
“Yes.”
Tyler couldn’t stop smiling. “Are you having a good visit with your dad?”
“Yeah. I…” Jamie stopped and cleared his throat. “I told them about you.”
“Really?”
“Everyone’s excited to meet you. You know, someday. Whenever you’re ready, or if you’re ever ready, or–”
“Jamie.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d love to meet them.” It was probably too soon to talk about things like meeting parents and looking into the future, but Tyler couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t ready for all of it.
It didn’t scare him, anymore, how much Jamie had come to mean to them in such a short amount of time.
Rowan came running over, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
“Kiddo, do you want to say hi to Jamie?”
He put the phone on speaker. “Jamie!” Rowan shouted. “This is the most bestest snowman!”
“I’m glad you like it, buddy.” Jamie replied. “Depending on what time I get back, would you guys be up for a visit later?”
Rowan turned his pleading eyes to Tyler. “Please, Papa? Can we please see Jamie?”
“We’d love that.” Tyler couldn’t imagine a better way to end their first Christmas in Madison.
Tyler pulled into Jamie’s driveway and parked behind Layla’s minivan. The whole Jackson family was there, the kids bundled in snow suits next to a pile of plastic sleds. Mitch was already standing at Jamie’s garage, punching in the code to open the large bay.
Tyler hadn’t been sure what to do for Jamie for Christmas. After spending hours trying to think back on everything he’d learned about Jamie, he landed on something Jamie had told him the day he’d come to the Children’s Museum.
He got Rowan out of his carseat and into his snow gear. “Thanks for making this happen,” Tyler said, giving Layla a hug. “I know it’s Christmas and all.”
Layla smiled. “Are you kidding me? The kids love Sully’s back hill. This is the perfect way to work off all the sugar they ate this morning with my folks.”
“Can you guys help me carry this?” Mitch stood in the garage next to a large pile of gear. “In all of my years knowing Sully, I’ve never actually set this up.” He looked over at Tyler. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Not a clue.” Tyler shrugged. “That’s what the internet is for.”
Mitch threw his hands in the air as Layla burst out laughing. “Sully’s lucky to have you,” Mitch said, smiling.
They found a tracked sled in Jamie’s garage, and stacked bags and boxes of gear labeled “ICE FISHING SHIT.” Somehow, they managed to drag the pile of gear down the hill to the edge of the frozen lake.
Tyler had found a local website that updated the ice conditions for the lakes around Madison, and was confident the ice was thick enough to safely walk on.
Judging by the other huts visible across the lake, he assumed they would be fine.
Mitch stayed with the kids while Tyler and Layla dragged the sled out onto the ice.
“I think we’re supposed to wear skates for this part,” Layla said, already gasping for air as she tried to stay upright on the ice.
Tyler laughed. “This was such a bad idea,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Neither of us know anything about setting up an ice fishing hut.”
“But that’s what the internet is for, Ty!”
Tyler couldn’t stop laughing. They slipped and slid across the ice until they decided that they were far enough from the shore to set up.
They managed the tent without instructions.
It was similar to most modern camping tents, with collapsable poles.
Once the tent was up, they dragged the other bags and boxes inside.
One case held a huge contraption that resembled some kind of corkscrew as long as Tyler’s leg, while another box had a propane heater.
A long case held fishing poles, and a folding camp chair.