Page 7 of Deck the Palms (An Annabeth Albert Christmas)
Seven
The sun! After all this week’s rain, I’m sure everyone is delighted by this weekend’s sunshine. Don’t forget to sign up for parent/teacher conferences during Thanksgiving break.
NOLAN
I usually used Saturdays to recharge from all the sleep I sacrificed while teaching during the week, but Merry had to drop the boys off super early for their van ride up the coast for the climbing outing. Thus, I was up early, walking over to Cara and Craig’s house. I started some decaf for Cara, made sure the snack cupboard was full, and promised to return in time to make dinner.
Make meaning order some takeout. Whatever. I’d take care of the meal so Cara didn’t have to. Her large Southern family was descending upon us for Thanksgiving week, and I was not looking forward to it. The family was still miffed that she’d run away with a West Point cadet, and that was well over a decade ago. Plus, they hadn’t much cared for me at the wedding or any time since. And, of course, Craig was still deployed, so I’d have to play host along with Cara.
At least I had today and the shopping with Merry to look forward to. He pulled into Cara’s driveway in an ancient hatchback adorned with dozens of surfing-related stickers and a mount for boards or bikes on top. His large brown-haired shaggy dog sat in the passenger side seat. The dog and I regarded each other warily. His tongue lolled to one side. Clearly, he wasn’t about to move.
“Barney.” Merry tapped the dog. “Get in the back.”
The dog moved as lazily as a middle schooler coming back from a restroom break, with zero urgency and much checking to see if Merry was serious about needing to give up his seat.
“Did you have breakfast yet?” Merry asked after the dog was situated in the center of the back seat. I slid into the passenger seat, practically feeling all the dog hair jumping onto my black walking shorts. Merry had demanded comfortable shoes, and I had found the most adorable pair of sensible little hikers to pair with the shorts and a multi-pocketed khaki shirt worthy of any expedition.
“Unless we’re counting half of Stella’s toaster pastry as real food, no.” I smiled hopefully at him.
“Good. Me neither, and I’m desperate for a coffee refill.” Merry put the car in reverse. He kept to a reasonable speed inside the subdivision, but as soon as we were on the larger roads, he zoomed around like any seasoned New York cabbie. “I know a place, and it’s right by this grocery store that may have lights.”
“A grocery store has holiday lights?” I had limited experience with most big-box stores, but in my experience, grocery stores and decorating didn’t usually go together.
“This is a local chain. They carry a little bit of everything.” Merry waved one hand, driving with the other, zigging and zagging between cars. “And today, their holiday section is finally up with a sale this weekend only. I cut the coupon out of the weekly circular, and I’ll stack it with one off the app. I’m hoping we can score some cheap lights.”
“Me too.” I bounced in my seat, both from the speed and my own excitement. As a tireless bargain hunter, I loved Merry’s thriftiness. “Smart by stacking deals. I never pay full price for anything in my closet. Sample sales, secondhand shops, deep discounts.”
“Maybe you and Alyssa wouldn’t get along after all.” Merry chuckled. “My ex found sales tacky, like they reduced the designer cachet.”
“Tacky.” I snorted at the concept. “What even is the point if you can’t brag about how you scored something eighty percent off?”
“I agree on everything other than surfboards and seafood. You get what you pay for there.”
Merry pulled into an older strip mall with a gray-and-white motif. He clipped Barney to a leash, evidently intending for him to dine with us as well. The aforementioned grocery store took up most of the north end of the shopping center, while a few smaller businesses, including a breakfast spot, occupied the rest. The eatery was a cross between a diner and a food truck. It featured a walk-up window to order, no interior tables or service other than a cooler of drinks to one side of the counter, and barely enough space to turn around. Outside, an assortment of picnic tables jockeyed for space under a canopy.
“What do I order?” I whispered to Merry as we waited in a short line, studying the menu, which was scrawled on a whiteboard and featured descriptive names like The Big Hawaiian with four kinds of meat.
“Do you want sweet or savory?” Merry grabbed a can of the ubiquitous POG juice found everywhere on the island. “Sweet, you pretty much have to try the macadamia chocolate chip pancakes. They cover them in a custard sauce that is crazy good. Savory, you can’t go wrong with fried rice with a side of Portuguese sausage.”
“I can’t decide.” My sweet tooth wanted that custard sauce, but my waistline said I needed protein. And my inner foodie wanted all of it. “Both, and we can split?”
“Sure.” Merry was as easygoing as always. “Oh, and the coffee here is drip, but it’s hot and good.”
“Are you warning me not to ask for hazelnut salted caramel oat creamer?” I teased.
Merry shuddered. “That such a thing exists is an abomination.”
I laughed lightly, relieved Merry drank coffee instead of running on some wheatgrass concoction like I’d initially assumed upon our first meeting. Merry was turning out to be so much more than that first impression. He might look the part of hot surfer dude, but he was also a compassionate teacher, a good dad, and a decent tour guide.
After we ordered, we took Merry’s can of juice and our coffee cups to one of the picnic tables. I gazed around the parking lot, which was enhanced by a truly gorgeous peach-and-aqua morning sky. A soft breeze whistled through, and there were just enough other patrons to tell me the place was good without it being overcrowded.
“I like this place already.”
“Yeah?” Merry asked with a suspicious tone to his voice. “Not missing your usual A-list spots?”
“I don’t make A-list money,” I admitted. “And any place halfway decent will have a long wait time. That’s just how it is in the city. Here, there are no lines and great weather. What’s not to love?”
“Come on. I know you miss the city.” Merry seemed determined to goad me for reasons that undoubtedly had to do with that ex of his.
“Eh. Not this time of year.” I stretched my neck from side to side. My overly crisp shirt tugged at the collar. “The city is crowded in the fall, gray and gloomy. Lots of rain, but no sun breaks like here. The holiday decorations will be up after Thanksgiving, but it’s cold, and people are more irritable than usual. I’m not a fan of snow either. Wet feet and cold noses. Yuck.”
“Wet feet. Cold nose. You just described Barney.”
“True.” I gingerly extended a hand toward the dog sitting near the end of the table, halfway between Merry’s side and mine. The dog offered a confused expression, undoubtedly sensing I had limited canine experience. I gave him a fast pat before returning my hand to my side. “I love spring in the city. Summer is hot and muggy. Fall is pretty awesome until you hit November. I love being able to get food in the middle of the night after a show.”
“Downtown Honolulu near Waikiki is pretty much twenty-four-seven, but otherwise, things tend to close early,” Merry agreed. “And it also depends on what food you’re looking for.”
“True. I do like New York’s bagels and pizza. But it’s also home and where I grew up.” I stared at the unfamiliar horizon, the pastel sky and palm trees. “I wouldn’t know what to do elsewhere. My first time flying anywhere was to see Craig when he was stationed down south.” I shot Merry a knowing grin. “Let me tell you, Hawaii is so much better than Florida.”
“The lack of alligators is appealing.”
“Very.” We laughed as our number was called. We fetched our food, huge portions of steaming pancakes, meat, and rice. “I may never need to eat again.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll burn it all off.” Merry gave an evil cackle as we arranged the dishes between us so we could share. Cozy. Merry speared a piece of the dinner-plate-sized pancake drowning in sweet custard sauce. “So, city boy, you were never tempted to go the Hollywood actor route?”
“Never. I was a drama major at NYU, but my love of theater goes way back to my grandpa on my mom’s side.” I paused to savor a bite of the salty fried rice topped with a fried egg. Merry seemed inclined to keep listening, so I continued, “Our other grandfather and our parents are rather sporty types, like Craig, and they were always all about his academic and athletic accomplishments. But Pop-Pop?—”
“Wow.” Merry’s eyes went wide. “That’s what my kids call my dad.”
“Oh, that’s adorable. Anyway, Pop-Pop loved the theater, especially bargain matinees. And after my grandmother passed, he hated going alone, so I was drafted into going along. I loved the magic.”
“Don’t movies have way more special effects?” Merry had a drop of the custard sauce near his bristly chin, and I wanted to lick it off in the worst way.
“Not that kind of magic.” I waved my fork. “ Real magic. The ability to transport the audience and help them use their imagination to enter another time and place. Movies often do too much of the work for you. But a good stage production envelops the audience into a shared experience. There’s nothing like it.”
“You certainly make a case for Broadway.” Merry nodded thoughtfully.
“And drama classes in schools.” I launched into my other passion. “I was lucky I had Craig because I was small and scrawny and very clearly not straight from birth onwards. Even in progressive New York schools, the bullies still found me. But they couldn’t touch me on stage. On stage, I could be a general, a president, a band leader, or a dashing aristocrat.”
“Yeah.” Merry’s voice took on a faraway yet gentle cast. “Or a fairy.”
“Or a fairy.” I chuckled along with him. “I did make a great Peter Pan, even if I would have rather played Hook.”
“Because you’re so menacing.” He pointed his butter knife at me.
“On stage, I can be,” I retorted. “That’s my point. On stage, in all the school productions, I got a break from being me. I could be whomever I wanted.” Warming to my subject, my voice rose, and I spoke faster. “I know people—even my own family—who think I do it for the attention. I do love an audience, but I do it for the kids in the audience who also need that escape.”
“I get that.” Merry was surprisingly solemn.
“I found my people in the theater crowd, and I simply wasn’t going to let them go.”
“That’s what I want for Ryder,” Merry said softly, looking down at the food. For once, I was quiet to see if he’d keep going. “I’ve always known I was pansexual, but I admit to a certain amount of het privilege, especially as a single dad. People just assume.”
“Not all of us can pass so easily.” I certainly couldn’t, and I suspected Merry knew that.
“Ryder was in kindergarten when he told me he was going to marry his best friend Troy. In fact, he told everyone who would listen. By third grade, I knew middle school would be a challenge, so I found Anuenue, moved into the one apartment in the district we could afford, and took the job to make doubly sure we’d get a spot. I want him to find his people.”
“He will.” I smiled encouragingly at him. “You’re a good dad. You already had a teaching certificate?”
“Not exactly. I did college when the boys were little, dabbling in various majors while Alyssa and I were still together. However, I worked construction on the side from high school on. I’ve always been handy.”
“I bet.”
“Uh-huh.” Ignoring my flirty tone, Merry continued, “Anuenue needed an industrial arts teacher, and I convinced Principal Alana that I could have a certification by fall. Spent that summer cramming classes in a post-bachelor program designed to get folks teaching licenses quickly to address the teaching shortage, and I got the job.”
“Wow. You really are an amazing dad.” I gazed at him, suddenly seeing the scruffy surfer dude in a warm, golden light, complete with a halo. “And a good teacher. The kids love you.”
“Eh.” He gave a humble shrug. “Turns out, teaching middle school isn’t much different from teaching surfing. Get them to trust you, make them laugh, and hope they learn a little something.”
“Yes,” I agreed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. I’d already been attracted to Merry for reasons only my libido understood, but now I had an ocean-sized crush on the single dad who’d changed his entire life’s direction for his kid. And we had a whole day in front of us for another of those moments to erupt.