40. Grand Gestures
forty
Grand Gestures
I f someone unexpected pounds on this door one more time, I think I’m diving off the mountain. There is a doorbell you know. At least, I think there is.
Ugh . I don’t think I ever looked.
Leave it to Aunt Josie not to have a doorbell. I yawn as I swing the front door open.
“Okay, first, you’re going to have to get dressed. Chop! chop! Let’s get those perfect round tits of yours barricaded behind a bra, and how about some pants? Jeans are good, I know you own them.”
Archer stands before me attached to a carry-on, with more luggage behind him, his eyes diverted from another one of Aunt Josie’s vintage silk sleepwear sets I’m wearing.
“Apparently, she was a dish back in her day. And I find walking around my new home in these ensembles in minus whatever degrees outside, quite liberating. What are you doing here?”
“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing here. What matters is that I am here, and I am not your gay bestie. I am your very heterosexual best friend who is not blind, so we will wear clothes in this house, Erika. Now, go get dressed while I unpack. Holy mother, look at this place.”
“I know, right!” I call down from the loft as I remove my top and reach for a sweater.
“Doors. We’re also doing doors, Erika. We will shut them when changing.”
I practically slide down the spiral banister in my jeans and sweatshirt and peek behind Archer. He’s staring into our Zoom through my laptop on the counter.
“Trying to see what happens when a tree falls and no one’s there?”
“Yeah, actually, I’ve always been curious what it looks like when we go airplane mode.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” I throw my arms around his neck.
“I can’t believe I didn’t come sooner.” Archer clears his throat and moves away from me to his luggage.
“So. Christmas!” He claps and rubs his hands together.
“Blitzen and their firetruck and whatever we need to do to lock this place up for old Aunt Josie, and we’re out of the snow globe, and back on the Harmon case. ”
Archer looks back at me to see if I’m on board. His sardonic charm fades to concern as my eyes water and I dive toward him.
“Oh, Archer. What am I going to do?” I hug my best friend tightly and try not to mess up his shirt. It probably cost more than his last-minute flight.
“You’re going to pack your belongings, say goodbye to the locals, and get on a plane back to civilization with me.” He says it in a low whisper in my ear, and I feel the foreign sensation of his hands tightening behind the small of my waist.
I guess the cocky bastard missed me more than I thought.
“This feels awful. It hurts. My stomach, my heart and soul. My brain hurts.”
“Erika,” he pulls my hands from behind his neck and steps away from me. “Is this—what is this about? Is this about the basketball coach?”
He sits on the edge of the couch, like he’s got something to work out in his head.
I nod at him like a child who got caught doing something wrong. “Archer, I can’t think or eat or sleep straight.”
“Sleep straight?”
“You know what I mean.” I sit beside him on the sectional.
“And here I thought we’d take in some local flare, maybe utilize the ice rental I sent, and be back before the office Christmas party.”
“The office Christmas party’s tonight.”
“Like I said.”
“Archer, I have obligations here. The way I see it, you came down to spend Christmas with me as originally planned. Don’t you remember saying you would?”
“Fine. Let’s backtrack and problem solve.
It’s what we do best. You’re leaving Blitzen with me to be back for the Harmon account, like both our jobs depend on it—because they do.
And in turn, hashtag, just because it’s Christmas, I’m going to help you tie up your lose ends. Now, tell me what happened.”
Archer’s pacing in the living room like Helen does. I’ve never seen him so bothered. “Can you stop referring to it as mind blowing sex, or the best sex ever or the time you said he made you—”
“Sorry. You usually beg to know.”
“Yeah, well. You usually don’t have that much to report. I can see I’ve taught you well. Very well.”
I shoot Archer the finger from the couch.
“There she is. Boy, I’ve missed you. So, getting back to that final night with the Ouija board Christmas music cassette tape—Hey… do you think it’s the tape or is the Beetle possessed? Like it’s got some less psycho, holiday version of a Stephen King’s Christine car thing going on?”
“Is that a movie reference?”
“Not if you’ve never seen it.” Archer dips his head defeated. “Sorry. Look, it’s not like you broke up. Did you even have a fight? And were you two ever really together?”
I stare at Archer like a deer in the headlights. Or maybe I’m more of a raccoon caught digging through trash cans at this point. I’m grasping at straws to understand.
“He was stern with you, sure, but he was upset. And rightfully so. That’s some heavy shit to unpack right here at the holidays.
A couple of days before Christmas? That’s an emotional peak for anybody.
And it sounds like he wasn’t as upset with you as he was the tape, or what you thought the tape meant, or what the universe made you think.
I don’t know, kid… from a male POV, he was mad at himself, not you. ”
“But, he left without saying goodbye or—”
“Did he call or text?”
“We don’t really do the text thing yet, we just do—”
“Each other. Yeah. Got it. Loud and clear. Okay. Let’s get to the bottom of this… You’re not mad, just hurt, and disappointed?”
“Yes.”
“And he might be mad, but from a female POV there’s no fucking way he should be mad at you, as you did nothing wrong, and I’ve already assessed his end, so you two are in this weird limbo two days before Christmas waiting for someone to say something, or take off with me on a plane to go home to Chicago. ”
“Archer, no. But yes. I think that’s it. At first, I felt there was no coming back from it, but that was because the emotion was so high over the wife element and the sad situation—”
“Do you… want to come back from it?” Archer’s voice takes an earnest, inquisitive tone.
“I’m hurt deeply by his reaction. But I also don’t see how he could have had a different one, under the circumstances. So, yes. If I knew he wanted me, I don’t see how I could not come back from it. Archer, what I mean is—I can’t not come back from it. I can’t not be with him.”
I run my hands through my hair and leap off the couch. “Fuck, Archer. You’re supposed to know what to do. What do you do when part of you wants to apologize, and the other part wants to run?”
“What would you be doing if there were no Kourt? Don’t you have a Christmas festival to run? Isn’t your best friend, who you’ve been dying to show around Blitzen, newly in town?”
My face lights up. “Actually, you and I aren’t just downing hot chocolate and ice skating like teenagers, the town tree comes today. Decorating starts at one o’clock. We have to get it ready for the Christmas Eve tree lighting tomorrow night. I could really use your help.”
“Let’s start with a coffee, then head into town to see your Christmas festival.”
Archer pauses and takes my hand. “Erika, people are like magnets. When one goes one way, the other follows, but when one does a complete flip, the other goes the opposite direction. It’s the law of physics.
I’m just saying, if someone turns and goes a different direction, you have no choice but to do the same.
So, let’s go to your Christmas festival.
If he’s there, he’s there. He’s not asking you to do or say anything. You do you.”