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Dr. Ezra Holden-Zeitler

“Yippie-Ki-Yay, Motherfucker!” Caleb shouts at the screen, then pops a piece of popcorn into his gaping mouth. “Merry Christmas, Jesus. I missed this movie.”

“And I missed you.” Arm wrapped around Caleb’s shoulder, I pull him as close to me as the theater seats will allow. He’s gruff and uncensored, but never turns down affection. Around Caleb, that same sense of carefreeness flows over me, like when we were kids playing together. That injection is something I needed to escape all the stress.

In a huff, Cort gets up from his seat on the other side of me, then stalks off to where the concessions are lining the side wall. Forever jealous, but I can’t help the smirk from pulling at the corners of my mouth. As long as Cortez behaves as usual, I know where I stand with him.

Cort’s more, but Caleb will forever be my childhood best buddy. Being around him makes me feel like that sane kid again, long before anything bad had happened in our happy world.

“I missed you too, Ez.” Caleb wiggles the popcorn bucket, offering me a snack. With a shrug, I take what’s offered. “I’ve only been home six months, but it already feels like a lifetime.”

“You just want to live a normal life.” Half-assed paying attention to the movie, I watch as Cortez binges on anything and everything, loading up a tray with enough food to feed him for a week. The rest of my attention is on the Marine seated next to me.

Since we lost Shadow Haven and moved into Misery Castle, I’ve let it all go. I’m not even going to lie to myself that I have any control over anything, not even my own actions most days. As I let the need to control slip away, I somehow managed to maintain control over my mental capabilities.

I’ve been even since we moved to Misery Castle.

Sure, it’s odd how there are parts of Master Ez that linger, but it didn’t take long to figure out that’s due to the fact that he is me. Those personality traits belong to me. There was never any confusion over my younger half being me, so once I accepted Master Ez as part of my makeup, we integrated into who I always was when I was even.

No one has commented on it, because as I let shit go, they’ve been going to shit. As much as I want to help them, I realize it’s not good for my mental health to focus on something I cannot fix nor change, because they have to fix and change themselves. This is something I learned through helping Whitt and Dalton move forward in life.

Dr. Zeitler has been driving the bus, and he’s me. The whole me.

With a huff, Cort drops back down into his seat, then mimics a pig at a trough, binge-eating popcorn, nachos, chocolate, and fruit candies by the handful.

Just barely, I suppress a smile, thinking Cortez cute, how he’s reverted back to the kid I loved with my entire soul.

Cort’s jealous of Caleb, and he needn’t be.

Caleb is a guy’s guy, a bit more misogynistic than I remember him being, simply because he’s spent his entire adult life stationed in the Middle East with other alpha males. Calm, yet Caleb doesn’t have the patience to deal with anything other than with a forceful approach.

“Asshole,” Cort grumbles from around a gooey, cheesy nacho. “Should’ve never came back.”

Oblivious to the hate coming his way, Caleb points at the screen, laughter rumbling from his chest. Evidentially a huge Die Hard fan.

Caleb and I have similar interests, ones Cort doesn’t share with me. Athleticism and things stereotypically male orientated. Cort’s softer, not understanding that it’s not an insult to his masculinity to like what he likes, but rather who he is as a person. He’s emotional, romantic. Sensitive .

But as a friend, I respect how Caleb doesn’t have a politically correct bone in his body, nor a filter. He’s polite, never rude in the traditional sense, but walking on eggshells, the man does not.

Uncensored. No game playing. Caleb means what he says and says what he means. There are never layers upon layers of manipulation and deception to wade through. It’s relaxing to be around someone who is wholly himself consistently and constantly.

Refreshing.

Caleb Green is the only person in this theater who says the things we all wish we could say but fear the backlash, and he only says them when we’re truly getting on his last nerve. It’s never said with an angry bent, just a resolute one.

Christmas Eve is celebrated differently in Dominion, New York. The Catholics are on their way to Christmas Mass. Even if I hadn’t converted to Judaism during my teens, no one and nothing would get me to go to mass with them. I’ve heard stories– stories even I felt were too hard to swallow.

The Whittenhowers and their nearest and dearest are on their way to what I’ve dubbed Ambush MASSacre. No God mandated killings will take place tonight, but I’m never going to chance being struck-down by lightning in the middle of service.

Random Protestants and Jews fill Misery Castle’s theater, watching the greatest Christmas movie of all time.

Die Hard.

Marcus isn’t even pretending to watch the movie, more interested in what his boys are doing– Whitt, Dalton, Cortez, and me. I have no idea what my adoptive father’s malfunction may be, but he’s become obsessed with fear that the four of us will fall into bed and never crawl back out. For various reasons, Marcus sees us as his sons, and it sickens him to think we may fuck each other one day, when we are not related to one another. Other than Cortez and me, but that’s just something we all accept.

Last week, I told Marcus how we create what we fear, and he almost had an aneurism.

Since Caleb came back and took over the enforcers, fortifying Faith to handle the elders and heirs, life has been easier. While we may have a lingering threat, I trust them to take care of it as I work on my issues at home.

One noticeable difference is how the enforcers are all working in conjunction, as a team with outside parties to keep us safe. This makes it obvious how we’re dealing with an outside threat that is terrifying everyone. But this brotherhood of sorts translates into a bunch of bros lifting everyone’s spirits.

“Oh, my God!” Aaron nudges Caleb, popcorn spilling onto the floor. “This is my favorite part. Watch this.”

Chuckling, Roarke leans across his enforcer partner, blocky teeth glowing in the darkness. “Bud, we were alive when this movie was released, were you?”

“I was a baby.” Self-deprecating laughter joins at least ten others making good-natured fun of Aaron’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure my dad watched it with me.”

“He did.” Roarke elbows Aaron, his version of a hug, as he settles back into his seat. “I know because I was there. Patrick was excited to have you sit on his lap while he shared the movie with me.”

“I wish they were coming home for Christmas.” Aaron pouts, no matter how old he gets, he’ll forever be a kid at heart.

“Next year,” I add in. “Aunt Pearl promises to move home once everything is safe and settled.”

“Didn’t want to chance it with Divina,” Roarke adds, surprising me. “Patrick will be with us sooner than later, Aaron. Poor consolation, but you’ve got us.”

“I wasn’t born when this was released.” Tobias Kline, all sunshine and goodness, turns around in his seat, being flanked by Dexter and Monica. “Pastor Kline is a closeted action freak. My brother, Patrick, he’s obsessed with science fiction. Auggie, my nephew, he’s even worse when it comes to movies, video games, comics, and all that stuff. I’m so happy that we’re doing this tonight– makes me feel as if they’re with me.”

“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays?” Roarke asks for all of us.

“No,” is all Dexter has to say on that subject, eyes glued to the screen.

“My nephew is going through some stuff.” Toby eyes the side of Dexter’s face, a queer smile twisting his lips. “Dexter doesn’t want it to influence my recovery.”

“They’re coming to stay with us tomorrow after Pastor Kline has his church service.” Monica’s been paying more attention to us than her husband or the movie. “And before you ask, the nephew is almost our age. Only the parents and siblings are coming.”

“Tina too– she’s my best friend.” Toby flashes us a smile, then settles back into his seat. “My niece– the real problem child’s sister, when they’ve always treated Tina and me as the problems. They’re coming to the Christmas party.”

Every eye in the theater goes wide at that. It’s not a party– it’s the dissolution of Ma?tre du Jeu as we know it.

“Amelia’s baby daddy,” is breathed into my ear, Caleb’s lips pressed tight to the shell, making sure no others can overhear. Snorting, a palm covers my mouth. “Awkward. Could you imagine?”

“He’s a pastor, right?” I murmur in awe, realizing that’s why they’re being invited to the party. “Do Baptists go by different rules of morality?”

Monica rolls her eyes at us, then turns back around.

“There’s a story there– don’t be a douche,” Dexter warns, evidently not paying attention to the movie. “Faith insisted on it.”

“I guess Faith lived with my parents for a year or so– that was eye-opening.” Toby curls in on himself, proving how there is indeed a story there. Dexter’s arm automatically pulls the kid into his side for a reassuring cuddle. They most certainly share a healthy father-son-esque relationship, flagellation aside.

Noticing the crunching has stopped, my eyes flick to the side, catching one helluva nasty glare. Cort is on the verge of blowing a gasket. Nothing upsets him more than not being in the know. All the bromancing going around, Cort feels as if there’s a boys’ club and he hasn’t been invited to join.

Neither have I.

“I love you, you fucktwit.” Arm wrapped around Cort’s shoulder, I tug him closer. “Just before the clock strikes Christmas, I’m going to drag your ass into that bathroom over there and fuck the Jesus out of you.”

“On that note.” Katya’s to her feet as if her strings were tugged. “I think it’s time for the kids to get to bed.”

Off to the side, near the concession tables, there’s an open space the kids are using to put a puzzle together. Katya, Spyder, and Regina are entertaining Azrael and Marcus Zane. Regina is here for Marcus, using Spyder as the buffer between her and Katya.

“You’ve got some ears on you, Kitten.” Cort chuckles, finding it hilarious how he and Katya have been jerking me around for months.

“It wasn’t ears.” Katya reaches down to pick Azrael up beneath the armpits, then props our baby girl on her hip. “I know both your facial expressions well. No one under twenty-one should be near you guys when you get that way.”

“Don’t mind us!” Blushing, Spyder picks Marcus Zane up exactly the same way Katya did. “We’ll just go to bed and wait for Santa.”

My adoptive sister is surprisingly maternal, as if all those traits that bypassed Olivia were bred directly into Spyder. My eldest daughter was too snoopy and politically minded to stay behind, even though she isn’t Catholic. On the other hand, Spyder was not about to betray her beliefs or her father by entering mass.

“I’m still a kid.” Toby crawls out from between Dexter and Monica. “I think I’ll help Spyder put the twins to bed.” Pretending his skin isn’t flaming brighter than hell itself, Toby takes my daughter from Katya, then cradles Azrael to his chest.

“Oh, that’s not obvious.” Regina tries hard not to chuckle, especially with the daggers Marcus is throwing Toby’s way. “At. All.” Stepping toward the exit. “I’ve got work to do, since grumpy asshole isn’t going to un-grump himself in the name of Jesus.”

“Jesus was a man, not the son of God,” Marcus deadpans, eyes dismissively flicking back to the large screen.

“Hey!” Sweet Toby looks to be on the verge of taking out his girlfriend’s father.

“This is why no one should lock the Jews, Christians, and Atheists in the same theater on Christmas Eve… just saying.” Entertained, Caleb watches the scene unfold. “Kind of like being the lone conservative trapped in here with a bunch of liberals.”

Our entire row of seats loses it shit. Bent over or heads flying back, the laughter echoes to the ceiling. Even Cortez isn’t immune, and he’s beyond jealous of Caleb.

“Lone?” Aaron’s face is crimson from laughter. “I believe there are a few closeted conservatives in here right now, who are always sneaking into the study to chat with Daniel.” Leaning around Caleb and me, Aaron pokes Cort in the chest. “Kinda like Cort hiding in the closet but sucking sausage out in the open.”

The bromancers are crude, rude, and infectiously hilarious. Every controversial subject is fair game. Caleb’s homecoming erased all filters any of the enforcers possessed. Nothing is as bad as Caleb and Wil sharing the same space. Even I’m not immune, and no one stands a chance of not laughing when they come at you in force. Perpetually grumpy Marcus is the last to be sucked under their spell of assholery, ringlets bobbing wildly as loud guffaws spill from his mouth.

To the background soundtrack of Cortez losing his shit, me tugging the man over two rows of seats before he takes out Roarke, Aaron, and Caleb, our wife just looks on with utter disappointment.

“You all are going straight to hell.” Katya is Ms. Politically Correct. With a hysterical Toby and Spyder following with our twins, Katya makes her exit. “I’ve got work to do too. Maybe Regina will be kind enough to get me the James Atwater proof I forgot in Jamie’s bedroom.”

“ Grant, ” Regina stresses, hating it when people other than Marcus calls Grant Jamie, finding the moniker too intimate. “His name is Grant.”

“Jamie to me,” Katya stresses back. “But I would appreciate it if you’d give me a few moments of your precious time, as it’s for his benefit that I work on his manuscript.”

“Fair enough.” Regina and Katya have been on shaky ground since they met. Katya resents her, anyone can see it. But it’s been worse lately, and I have no idea why. Katya is always polite to everyone, but now there’s an edge of forced politeness that is on the verge of being caustic.

Tobias and Spyder go one way, putting the twins to bed, most likely going to make-out afterward. With Regina and Katya joining forces to help Grant, as scary as that sounds.

“Good, now I don’t have to behave myself.” Caleb slouches into the seat, thighs spreading wide in what Katya calls manspreading.

I only discovered this phenomenon a few weeks ago, when Katya punched Cort in the leg because he was taking up too much space on the sofa. Mother and daughter educated us, while I just thought they were behaving like a pair of siblings fighting for space in the backseat of a car during a road trip. Ava and I were the parents in that scenario.

“Hey!” Monica calls out, insulted that Caleb doesn’t see her as a classy lady.

“It’s compliment.” Dexter tugs Monica into the seat Toby vacated. “Because you’re cool and laidback.”

“Caleb doesn’t know Monica like I do,” Cort breathes out the side of his mouth, causing us to have another fit of the giggles. Monica is one of the most uptight people any of us has ever met.

“A working man’s daughter,” is all Caleb says in explanation. I don’t get it, but evidentially Monica does, because she relaxes with a proud smile on her face.

“Now that it’s just us guys and Monica.” Roarke’s gravelly voice echoes around the theater. “We should watch Bad Santa next.”

“Down,” comes from Caleb.

“Totally down,” is from Aaron.

“Count me in.” Dexter joins the fun.

“Billy Bob Thornton is my hero!” Monica purrs, making me wonder if I really know her or my wife, since they’re the best of friends.

“One of my favorites,” is surprising from Marcus.

Cort eyes the bros with a combination of bitter loathing and intense longing to be one of them, because that is never going to happen. Cort’s panties are in a twist, because he wanted to sit near the concessions table and put the puzzle together with the kids and the ladies. I thought it was cute, which made him act like a puke.

“How about It’s a Wonderful Life? It was created by adapting the short story, The Greatest Gift–”

“NO!” flows from every mouth but mine, popcorn pelting Cortez from all directions. “Ez, go fuck some sense into your boy,” obviously comes from Caleb. “We’re sick of the Christmas music and forced togetherness we’ve suffered through since before we even hit Halloween. We want to relax, not have an existential crisis.”

“We’re so glad you’re back.” Roarke fist-bumps Caleb.

“Let’s stay up all night.” Aaron is glowing from all this togetherness. “By the time Kayla gets back from her folks, we could watch Christmas Vacation.”

“It’s her favorite.” No one bothers to ask why Roarke knows that. “It’s good to be child-free, single, and without a family. I’ll be watching A Christmas Story while you fools force yourselves to pretend the gifts are from Santa.”

“Kayla and I will be right there with ya, bud.” Another fist-bump, this time between Aaron and Roarke.

“Married but no kids yet.” Monica turns around while wearing the hugest shit-eating grin. “It’s sweet freedom to be in a fucking mood and not have to coddle the kiddies with lies. We’ll be eating in bed, fucking all morning, then preparing for the Klines’ arrival.”

“It’s going to be a good day.” The tone in Dexter’s voice is pure contentment and satisfaction.

“Just wait until you assholes have kids– you’ll change your outlook.” Practically vibrating from the frat boy vibe in the theater, Cortez is going to lose it again. “You’ll see how none of that is forced once you have kids.”

“No, none of that shit.” Caleb glowers, bending forward to glare at Cort. “No. Just no. I babysit adults and children around the clock, with no life to call my own. Just give me one night of freedom. You’re in the minority tonight– deal.”

“I’m always in the minority!” Cort lunges to his feet, prepared to destroy Christmas. Again.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Caleb rolls his eyes. “You’re the whitest, most entitled Mexican I’ve ever met. If Julio was here right now, he’d beat your ass for taking that the wrong way. You have a trust fund. Your home has a goddamn name. You don’t get to pull out the race card on me, or I’ll pull out the wounded veteran protecting your ass still to this day card.”

Sucking in a gasp of air, Cortez pulls all sound from the theater into his lungs, preparing to release it in a torrent. A second later, everyone but me and Cortez breaks down into a fit of hysterics.

Cortez is stunned stupid, as am I.

“Cort, we all have something.” It’s Monica who takes pity on him. “I’m a woman. A dirt-poor woman who was raised by a racist, drunk plumber, single father. Now everyone says I’m nothing but a gold-digger, as if Dexter couldn’t possibly love someone with my background for me. As if all my hard work doesn’t belong to me. Buddy, you don’t get to use the pretty color of your flesh as an excuse. You are literally the minority in the room tonight, because you want to watch sappy book adaptations. You’ve been out-voted– we’re going with dirty, smutty, unapologetically comedic Christmas movies, sweetie.”

Instinctively knowing Cortez is humiliated, even if it’s of his own creation by taking shit the wrong way, I jump in to smooth over the situation before it bubbles over.

“Tent?” is all I have to say to get Cortez to light up like Christmas. “Just you and me, but we’ve got to be back by dawn for Santa.”

Walking hand-in-hand out of the theater, Cort pulls me close so no one can overhear, not that they will with how loud Die Hard is blaring. “I didn’t mean my ethnicity– they always side against me.”

I don’t say what I really think, which is an ability I envy in Caleb. They’re not siding against Cort– they’re reacting to how he acts around them. As both my best friend and lover, Cort is jealous over me being friends with anyone else, especially if we share things he doesn’t enjoy. They channel that vibe and it creates issues for me.

As soon as Caleb sat next to me in the row of seats, Cort’s disapproval filled the air. It’s uncomfortable in the extreme for everyone. Caleb is not romantically or sexually attracted to me– our bond is similar to how he acts around the rest of the guys. Caleb is a bro, whose battery is filled by masculine energy, something in which Cort doesn’t exhibit very strongly. It’s brotherhood and friendship, nothing more, but Cortez doesn’t want me to experience that with anyone besides him.

“I know.” Placing a quick kiss to pouty lips, I speak the truth. “All around, everyone is taking shit wrong tonight. It’s best to separate and do our own things.”

“Now that the twins are older, I cannot wait to watch them open their Christmas presents.” Giddy, the divide between those left in the theater and Cortez is bridged wider. Cort is a daddy, first and foremost. “I just wish we were at Shadow Haven.”

If it’s the last thing I do on earth, I will get this man our home back.