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22

CONNOR

T he school term had ended, and Spencer and I were in Portland, sitting at my family’s dining room table, playing Uno with my mom and Kyle. The games were competitive. I knew Spencer was an excellent video gamer, but he seemed to excel at Uno, which pissed me off to no end.

“Can I win just one fucking game?” I blurted out in frustration, throwing my cards on the table.

“Language,” my mother said as she glanced at me over her glasses.

Spencer laughed as I glared at him. That delighted Kyle to no end, joining Spencer’s laughter since I was the one who usually took most of the glory whenever we played. Mom reached out and gathered the scattered cards to shuffle. I could tell she and Kyle enjoyed Spencer’s personality, as I knew they would.

“You boys are more serious at this card game than you probably ever were in those swim meets,” she interjected as she dealt the cards. I saw she had a glow about her with us all in her house. She loved mothering us with cooking, baking, and even cleaning up after our unintentional messes. She had always been that way with my friends, and I could tell Spencer liked the attention with his family gone for the holidays.

We had a light dinner of homemade chicken noodle soup with biscuits once my brother arrived. Mom had already prepped dinner for tomorrow, and a twenty-two-pound turkey was already thawed in the refrigerator, accompanied by prepped side dishes.

The house was overly decorated in holiday cheer, and the Christmas tree was a tad too large for the living room. Mom always preferred a big fir tree to decorate, and she always displayed the ornaments my brother and I had made over the years, along with the numerous gold-mirrored balls. It was always a nostalgic sight.

Stringing the tiny white lights came down to Kyle and me playing rock, paper, scissors to avoid having to do the dreaded chore. I always ended up with scratches down my arms from the fir needles. My brother never understood why I never wore a long-sleeved shirt when it was my turn. I guess I never figured out why either, and my arms showed the evidence.

It was Christmas Eve. I had been excitedly nervous when Mason called yesterday, letting me know he’d be down in Portland tomorrow after his last delivery in Vancouver, Washington. He didn’t seem hesitant when he said he’d enjoy having Christmas dinner with us, and I took that as a good sign. He asked if it would be okay to bring a bottle of wine. I said yes since I’d be drinking to calm myself down. I figured I’d have enough butterflies for both of us.

“UNO,” I cried out with my arms raised high. I knew I had it in the bag with the one card in my hand that would propel me to victory. There were groans around the table when it was my turn, and I threw the multicolored card down. “Finally,” I said as I threw my head back.

Kyle shook his head. “Happy now, grumpy?”

“Yes. Now I can go to bed tonight with visions of sugar plums up Santa’s nose,” I retorted, clapping my hands.

“I think you’re mixing up lines in that Christmas story,” Spencer said with a quizzical look. My mom giggled as she gathered our empty glasses.

We called it a night after that last game, so I started to pick up the cards to put them away. “Doesn’t matter. Tomorrow is Christmas. There’ll be presents to open, and Mason is coming to join us.” I didn’t want my nerves to show as I blurted the last part out.

“I’m excited to meet your special friend,” Kyle teased, emphasizing ‘special.’ Mom must have repeated my exact words when she told my brother Mason would be joining us.

I looked over at Spencer, but all he did was raise an eyebrow. Spencer knew I felt trepidation about inviting Mason on a whim, but I knew I could count on my friend to have my back, and I was happy to have his support.

I was quick to correct my brother. “His name is Mason. And no teasing him either,” I said as I got up from the table. Kyle brought his hands back in defeat and waggled his brow at me.

When everything was put away, I looked at the clock, which read 10:45 p.m.

“I’m ready to hit the sack,” I announced, and Spencer agreed with a stifled yawn.

“I’ll head home as I need to take Bunker for a late-night walk, but I’ll be back in the morning around seven-thirty. I’ll bring Bunker too,” Kyle said as he grabbed his jacket.

“Bunker?” Spencer asked as he looked toward Kyle with a tilt of his head.

Kyle wrestled with his coat, trying to find the armhole. “I guess Connor never told you I had a dog,” he replied. “He’s a two-year-old Corgi. I named him Bunker because when he was a brand-new puppy, and I hadn’t named him yet, I was walking him by a golf course when he yanked the leash from my hand, headed to a sand bunker, and began digging. Sand flew everywhere, and I felt the name was appropriate.”

We said our goodnights, and Mom finished up in the kitchen doing the dishes. She came around the corner, still holding a dish towel. “Since it’s Christmas morning tomorrow, expect a special breakfast of French toast and bacon, and then we can open gifts.”

Mom was beaming, and I could tell she really loved our gathering this year. She had her boys together at Christmas, and my close friends were joining. I hadn’t seen her that happy in a long time. I wanted the rest of our holiday break to keep that steady course, but my gut was telling me differently.

Spencer headed off to the guest room, and I followed behind him to my room. As I was about to get undressed, there was a soft knock at the door. I opened it, and Spencer stood in the hallway. He looked concerned when he whispered, “Are you doing okay? I mean, with Mason arriving tomorrow?”

“I’m doing alright. Yeah, I’m a little nervous about how Mason might be received, but I need to remember I have a good family, and I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said.

“You do know the definition of ‘fine,’ don’t you?” he asked with a raised brow. “It stands for fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.” I could see his point.

I looked down the hall towards where Mom was. “I don’t want to stress over it, and I want a good night’s sleep. The only thing I ask is that you keep your crazy humor handy if shit goes south.”

He nodded and patted my chest. “Okay, sleep good, and I’ll see you in the morning,” he replied as he turned back to his room.

I finished getting ready for bed and hit the light switch. I lay there looking at the ceiling. “Everything will be just fine,” I told myself out loud before I closed my eyes and drifted off.

On Christmas morning, I awoke to the sound of Bunker’s loud bark somewhere in the house. I looked over at the nightstand and saw it was almost eight o’clock. I never slept that late at school, but having a holiday break let me catch up on much-deserved shuteye.

I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After I’d taken care of business, I changed into lounge pants and a sweatshirt and walked to the living room. The distinct aroma of coffee wafted through the house, accompanied by the faint smell and sizzle of bacon. My stomach rumbled.

I rounded the corner to the kitchen and saw my mom, fully dressed, frying bacon. My brother leaned against the counter, chatting with her, a cup of coffee in hand. Bunker heard me and immediately waggled his hind end and bolted toward me with excitement.

“Heya, potato,” I said excitedly and bent down to scratch his ears. My brother laughed.

“You always call him that,” he replied.

Bunker, by now, had decided to flop over on his back for belly rubs. “It’s because you decided to get a dog that looks like one,” I countered, continuing to bestow affection on the canine. Kyle just rolled his eyes.

Mom greeted me as she flipped bacon in the pan. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

I walked up and kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mom.” I looked over at Kyle, and we both smiled and lifted our chins in greeting. He held out a mug filled with black nectar. “Thanks, bro,” I said, clinking it against his.

From the living room, we could hear Spencer. “Good morning and Merry Christmas,” he exclaimed as he joined us. He was wearing his typical grey sweats and had adorned himself in a Santa hat for the day.

Mom glanced over. “Now that’s adorable,” she said, taking in the sight of my friend. “Merry Christmas, Spencer.” My brother took down another mug, filled it, and handed it to Spencer with a cheerful greeting.

Bunker seemed overjoyed at seeing a new face in the house. He barked again. He barked at anything new. Spencer put his mug down and went to the floor to greet my brother’s dog. Bunker was beside himself, getting all the attention. It was funny to witness a spirited golden retriever play with a Corgi.

Mom placed the cooked bacon on a tray and slid it into the oven to keep warm. “Breakfast will be in about ten minutes or so,” she said as she beat the eggs for the French toast. “Boys, would you mind setting the table?”

Kyle grabbed plates as I grabbed silverware. Spencer followed us to the dining room with Bunker on his heels. When the table was set, the three of us sat down with our coffee.

“What time is your speci…Mason supposed to get here?” my brother asked, correcting himself. I appreciated that.

“I told him dinner would be around four o’clock. He said he’d come over sometime around three since he’d be coming down from Vancouver,” I said.

Kyle took a sip of coffee and asked, “Is he from there?”

“Not exactly,” I replied. Spencer was staring at his coffee cup and didn’t look up.

Thankfully, we were interrupted as Mom came in carrying two large plates of French toast and bacon. I didn’t really want to talk about Mason during breakfast, but I wasn’t sure if he’d continue to ask questions. Spencer averted Kyle’s attention, sensing my discomfort, and asked him about his job at the motorcycle dealership. Between the arrival of food and the subject change, it helped relieve my anxiety.

We loaded our plates, and Spencer let out a gleeful moan. “This is the best French toast I’ve ever had. There’s something different about the taste,” he said, stabbing another fork full.

Mom smiled. “I use eggnog along with the eggs in the batter. I’m glad you like it.”

Spencer looked at her in amazement mid-chew. “It’s incredible, Mrs. Olsen. Thank you for all this.” I could see Spencer’s eyes get wet with tears, and I knew he missed his family. I’m glad I invited him to be with mine.

“You’re quite welcome, Spencer. And we’re happy you’re here with us,” she replied, placing her hand on his arm.

After breakfast, we topped off our coffees and unwrapped presents. We’d decided before the holidays to draw names and give a gift to that one recipient. Although that was the rule, it was rarely followed. Kyle and I always got Mom a gift, and she, in turn, always gave a gift to each of us. Spencer was the added factor this year, but he still made out with a new video game from me and a gift card from Mom.

The rest of the day was lazy, except for Mom. She didn’t want any help in the kitchen even though we offered. Football was on TV when the doorbell rang. My heart hit my throat. Bunker barked, jumped up, and ran to the door.

“I’ll get it,” I said as I looked at Spencer, walked to the door, and gently pulled Bunker back.

When I opened it, there stood Mason holding a bottle of wine. He had a smile that looked a little forced. My heart leaped as I rushed into his arms and gave him a hard kiss on the mouth. I didn’t realize how much I’d really missed him, and I didn’t want to let go. He seemed a bit surprised at my reaction when I pulled back and saw his eyes.

“Hi,” was all I got out since my brain had suddenly stopped working.

“Well…Merry Christmas,” he said as his surprised expression quickly changed to a big smile.

I grabbed his jacket lapels and pulled him into the house. Closing the door, I stood next to Mason while Mom, Kyle, and Spencer stood in the hall. Only Spencer didn’t have that deer-in-headlights look. He gave me a comfortable nod.

Bunker was doing his best to get Mason’s attention, so he bent down to give him tender ear scratches.

“Mom, Kyle, this is Mason. Mason Hardy. He’s the trucker that gave me the ride to EOU.” I kept it formal but friendly in my nervousness. “You know Spencer already from the university,” I reminded Mason as I hooked my arm in his and looked at him.

Mason took in the three standing across the room and patted my hand through his arm. He moved toward them, extending his hand to my mom first. He still held the bottle of wine in his other hand. She seemed unfazed and took Mason’s hand without wavering.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Olsen,” he said sincerely in a resonant voice.

With a returned smile and taking his hand, my mom replied, “Oh, Mason, please call me Sharon. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” I could tell her smile and welcome relaxed Mason a little, but I sensed she was a little surprised at his age.

Mason offered the bottle of wine to my mom, and they exchanged a couple more pleasantries. He turned to my brother and offered his hand in greeting. “You must be Kyle. It’s nice to finally meet you. Connor speaks quite fondly of you.”

Kyle stood transfixed. It was like waiting for the next shoe to drop, and I waited for his reaction.

My brother hesitated. Mason waited and looked Kyle in the eye without blinking. Kyle finally looked down at Mason’s hand, accepted it with a single shake, and dropped it quickly. “Hi,” he said cooly.

I could feel the chill from his blunt greeting, and I’m sure everyone else felt it too. I noticed my mom giving Kyle a surprised yet stern stare. He didn’t look at her as he crossed his arms and gave Mason an indignant gaze.

If it bothered Mason, he didn’t show it. He stepped over to my college friend to say hi, but in true Spencer form, Spencer gave him a quick hug and smiled, still wearing that Santa hat. “Merry Christmas. Great to see you again,” he said cheerfully.

Kyle kept glaring.

I intervened, stepped forward, and took Mason’s coat. He was wearing his signature tight jeans, and I unabashedly took in his perfect ass. He was wearing a form-fitted, red Merino wool sweater that hugged his arms. Arms I’d felt around me in heated passion. I wanted to jump him so badly.

Mom retreated to the kitchen after excusing herself, with Kyle close behind. I could hear their murmured voices. As I hung up Mason’s coat, Spencer was astute and led him into the living room to sit and chat. I asked Mason what he’d like to drink, and he simply asked for water. Spencer, of course, wanted a diet cola.

As I headed into the kitchen, Mom and Kyle were in a heated whisper, and both turned their heads in my direction. I walked to the fridge to grab the water and soda and looked at my brother.

In a soft but firm voice, I said, “Could you be any less friendly?” Mom stayed quiet and waited to hear what Kyle had to say. She allowed the tension to stand between us, but I knew she wouldn’t let it continue with guests in the house.

“What the royal fuck?” came from my brother’s mouth. I stood there in disbelief at his whispered outburst. My pulse raced, and my face flushed. My gut was right, shit was headed south.

Mom looked at him. “Kyle, language!” she chided.

I walked up close and leaned into him. “Outside, now!”

I handed the water and soda to Mom and asked her if she could take them to the guys in the living room. She gave me a weak smile as I opened the back door that led to the back deck. The temperature outside was chilly but not intolerable for the time of year. Kyle followed closely behind me.

“Excuse me, but what is your fucking problem?” I bellowed, facing him once he shut the door.

Kyle was indignant and barked back. “My problem is you bringing a guy home for Christmas dinner, telling us he’s a special friend and he’s as old or older than our mother? What the bloody hell!” I noticed the pulsing vein in his neck. “You could have warned us.”

I was incensed. “I’m sorry you’re so put out by someone I find interesting, attractive, and successful. Age doesn’t fucking matter to me, and I would have hoped you’d see past that. I guess I was wrong. And since when do I need to warn you about someone I like and want to bring home?”

“He’s a fucking truck driver, Connor. For shit’s sake, you seem to have a goddamn daddy complex with a fucking trucker. He’s Mom’s age, for Christ’s sake. I know we didn’t grow up without a dad, but really?” he barked as he turned away from me. I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me.

“How dare you. How fucking dare you,” I yelled back. “Just who are you to judge who I want to see or possibly have a relationship with? Just because you don’t have anyone in your life, you don’t have the power to deny me that chance.” My anger was palpable. “On top of that, you’re just a fucking mechanic, and you judge him for what he does?” I saw his nostrils flare. “Just because our dad died that doesn’t make you the man of this house, and you can’t simply slip into that role, so stop being such a shithead about who I want to see, let alone fuck!”

Kyle said nothing as he stared at me. I’d probably gone too far with my judgment of him, but I was pissed. He’d ruined Christmas for me with his behavior, and I wanted to strike back. Doing it verbally seemed the most hurtful.

He took a deep breath. “Fine. Enjoy the time with that old man who apparently likes robbing the cradle. Maybe you could pass him onto Mom if he swings that way once he’s tired of your sorry ass.” He turned and stomped back to the house.

Tears welled in my eyes, and as he reached for the doorknob, all I could think to say was, “You fucking son of a bitch. I expected more from you.” Tears ran down my cheeks once my words left my mouth. “I fucking hate you right now!” My emotions were out of control, and I knew I’d hurt him. I wondered if he felt the same about what he’d said to me.

Kyle opened the door, walked back into the kitchen, and slammed it shut. I stood there and sobbed into the late afternoon briskness. I needed to cool down and compose myself. I’d never yelled at my brother before. It was foreign to me, and I began to shake.

After a couple of minutes, Mom came out and saw me crying. She had wrapped a shawl around herself, and as she took me in her arms, she wrapped her shawl around us both.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she said softly. All it did was make me cry harder. She gave me a minute before continuing. “Your brother left with Bunker. He said he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to head home.”

Her comfort helped stifle my tears. “I’m…I’m sorry I ruined our Christmas,” I choked out, looking down at my feet. She raised her hand, lifted my chin, and gave me a sweet smile.

“You didn’t ruin our Christmas, sweetheart. Your brother was outwardly rude. I’d say his behavior was the cause of what happened between you two. You both probably said some hurtful things to each other.” She brushed my tears with her thumbs. “You know your brother loves you, and I think once he saw Mason, his reaction was impulsive. The rest of us will still have a nice dinner together.” She pulled back and lifted my chin. “I want to know more about your special friend, Mason.”

We stood there for another minute, and even with the shawl wrapped around my shoulders, I shivered. It was probably more from emotion than from the chill.

“Let’s head inside,” she said as she wiped my cheeks again.

When I stepped into the kitchen, I took a deep breath to calm down. Mom hung the shawl up and went back to the task of getting dinner put together. I headed into the living room once I’d felt my composure had returned. Mason and Spencer were in a fit of laughter when I walked around the corner, and that helped my spirits some.

Even with what happened with my brother, maybe the rest of Christmas Day could be salvaged.