Bowl Full of Cherries (20 page)

“Mom, you cursed!” all the children shouted at her in unison, and Jes rolled her eyes.

Crowley ate his breakfast and watched them work their way through about half of the mountain of junk, laughing when they pouted at socks and underwear and sweaters. In that moment, the children forgot every awesome electronic and plastic toy they’d received and every gift still waiting, wrapped, underneath the tree. Their disappointment was trained fully on that one horrible item of clothing. Rell excused himself after Andy got a duplicate copy of a game he’d opened earlier.

His sister looked at her husband, her eyes flashing. “I thought
Santa
coordinated everything on the list.”

“
He tried
.”

“Well, he’d better have kept the receipt!”

Other adults had come into the living room. Katie, who’d finished her meal, took the baby from him. The grandparents, too, made their way in, though they complained at the waste of all the toys in front of them. Crowley thrilled when he saw one of the kids open something he’d chosen on the trip to the Toys “R” Us. Even though they shouted, “Thanks, Grandma!” to Mrs. Lang because her name was on the tag, it still warmed his heart. He’d chosen well.

“Owly?”

It was Rell’s voice, but there was no Rell standing there, only a pointer finger beckoning him from behind the wall. He grinned, stood up, and walked into the hall.

“Merry Christmas, Owl.”

“Merry Christmas. I wish I’d thought to bring presents. There really wasn’t a whole lot of time.”

“Actually… that’s what I wanted to show you. Here.”

He pulled his hand from behind his back and presented a figurine to Crowley.

“What’s this?”

“Riordan,” Rell explained. “I know, he’s not the strongest character, and without A’ress’s Irregulars to protect him, he’s squishy on the battlefield. But I always liked his backstory and….” Rell’s wide smile melted Crowley’s heart. “You said you liked my painting abilities. This is one of my favorite models. I think I did a pretty good job on the shading.”

“Averell….”

“Look, I can’t pretend I had something all planned out for you and I don’t think you want me to. The truth is, until Mom said to pick you up from the train station, I didn’t even know you existed. Sorry, that came out wrong—”

“No, I get it.”

“And then I thought you’d be another one of Tyler’s hipster friends even after I found out you were his roommate. But after I met you, everything changed. The time we’ve spent together… man, I’m not good at this at all. I think you’re fantastic, Owl. But since I didn’t know, I couldn’t be super thoughtful and since I wasn’t super thoughtful, I didn’t wrap it. So… yeah. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said very softly and picked up the figure. Rell had added a tiny gold chain to the molded plastic of Riordan’s cape and he’d painted his red eyes behind the shaded glasses. The attention to detail was stunning. “I always liked Riordan.” He couldn’t hold that telltale smile in, and he beamed. “This is the coolest present I’ve ever received.”

“Okay, don’t say that until you see what I got you,” Tyler said as he walked past them in the hall. He was carrying a large plate of food, laid out like he worked in an upscale restaurant. “And could you guys not be all suspicious in the hallway. Crowley, I got your breakfast.” Bacon, ham, sausage, eggs, biscuits, gravy, and a bunch of grapes.

“Is this my present?” Crowley teased.

“Nope, but eat some of it, would you?”

Crowley handed the Riordan figure back to Rell, mouthing a grateful “thank you” and followed Tyler back into the living room. The sisters had taken over the couch, so he sank down on the floor next to his roommate. Everything on his plate looked delicious and he was
damn
hungry.

He started with the grapes.

Someone turned up
It’s a Wonderful Life,
and Mrs. Lang called for the children to clear away the wrapping paper. All the beautiful paper, neat little bows, and delicate tags went into the trash in huge handfuls.

“Santa do good this year?” Katie asked, and the kids talked over each other to show their aunt which present was the best.

After the kids had pulled away their gifts into not-so-neat piles, the adults opened their presents. Typical boring adult gifts. Even as an adult, Crowley found the presents grown-ups gave one another rather unimpressive. Not like the beautifully painted Riordan figurine Rell had given him. This was all bath salts and perfumes, ties and socks, sheets and blankets, towels, cookware, gift cards, and sweaters.

Sondra took photos of the adults. She captured the grandparents talking intimately, Jes laughing and leaning into her husband, Katie making faces at the baby while her husband looked on, Mrs. Lang holding up three new blouses as if they were winning lottery tickets, Rell putting bunny ears on Tyler while his brother hammed it up for the camera, Crowley smiling nervously for the lens, Aunt Megs hugging CeCe, and then Sondra turned the camera on herself, hand to forehead, sighing dramatically. If Crowley couldn’t be with his own family, the Lang family more than sufficed.

“W
HAT
DO
you guys want to do?” Tyler asked later when the four of them—Rell, Crowley, Tyler, and Sondra—were in his room. He’d plugged his Mac into the television and was playing a video of two cats in Christmas sweaters “dancing” to music. Sondra painted tiny Christmas trees on her nails, periodically painting her finger instead of the nail as she lost herself in the eyes of the twin tabbies stumbling around in their mini-sweaters.

“I should get a cat,” she said.

“You’d have to have a home to get a cat,” Tyler replied.

Rell and Crowley were sitting on Tyler’s bed and Rell, unabashed, had wrapped his arms around Crowley, snuggling him close. Crowley leaned back into the warmth of his hug. Tyler cut his eyes over at the pair of them and sighed.

“Do
not
make out on my bed,” he warned, as if they were teenagers who could not keep their hands off one another. Though as soon as Tyler turned his back to them, Rell stole wickedly playful kisses. A laugh bubbled up, deep within Crowley’s throat and Tyler’s head snapped back toward them, catching Rell with his lips on Crowley’s neck.

“What the hell did I just tell you guys?” he demanded.

“Sorry, Tyler,” Crowley said, trying to smother his smile. Rell wanted to pull the hand away, let Tyler see how ridiculously happy Crowley was.
He’d
put that smile on Crowley’s face.

“Hey,” Sondra said, not peeling her eyes from the screen. She’d forgotten about her paintbrush and a dollop of dark green polish splattered on her pants leg. “How far have you guys gone anyway?”

“Do
not
answer that, sirs.” Tyler’s voice was deadly calm. The sort of calm that meant if they defied him, there might be hitting involved. At least, that’s what it had meant when the twins were twelve.

“I wasn’t going to,” Rell said firmly. “That’s our business. If we want to kiss, or make out, or feel each other up, or have dirty, dirty sex in tons of positions—”

“You
haven’t
.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a plea. It was a statement of fact, as if Tyler Lang could protect his best friend’s virtue from his brother just by saying so. “You haven’t and you won’t.”

“Tyler,” Crowley said quietly, shifting against Rell. “I really appreciate you being so protective, but—”

“Guys. Look. You’re lusty. That’s… very gross… but okay. Let’s think about this rationally. Crowley and I have to go back to Avona day after tomorrow. You going to do a long-distance thing? No, of course you aren’t.”

“We aren’t?” Rell gasped in mock surprise. “Well, gosh there, Tyler! I’m so glad you let me know it was off.”

“And Crowley,” Tyler said, ignoring his brother, “you’ve said yourself that you’re not the sort to hook up.”

“Hey now.” Annoyance flooded through Rell. “I’m not exactly Mr. Hookup either.”

“Don’t make me start naming names,” Tyler warned. “I’m just trying to be the voice of reason here. Don’t do it. Don’t take it to that level.”

“Oh my
God,
Tyler, you are the most arrogant person on the planet.”

“Don’t be angry because I’m smarter than you are,” Tyler said, puffing out his chest a little. “Now that that’s settled, something to do for the afternoon. What about Berry Hill?”

“What’s Berry Hill?” Crowley asked, and Rell noticed he’d gone a little stiff—and not in a fun way.

Rell leaned in close, pulled Crowley back against him, and whispered, “I’m really not a hookup kind of guy, Crowley. Don’t listen to Douche Face. If… y’know… or
when
you and I get there, it means something to me.”

“Okay.”

Crowley’s smile became a little more natural.

“Berry Hill’s the coolest place ever for drinking beer and sledding,” Tyler pressed. “It’s the perfect way to pass the afternoon. Sondra can take some pictures.”

This finally got Sondra’s attention, and she looked up.

“Beer and sledding? Those things sound like they go together,” Crowley joked.

“It’s one of the few times I will agree with my brother,” Rell said. “There’s something amazingly primal about drinking and sledding. It always ends with awesome.”

M
OM
MET
them at the door and told them exactly what time they had to be back by, made them repeat it in unison, and then threatened each of their lives (only sparing Crowley’s because he was the guest) if they missed her Christmas dinner.

“How can you guys eat again after that breakfast?” Crowley asked as they trudged down the empty, icy street, pulling sleds they’d found in the passably clean garage, behind them. Sondra carried a cooler of beer, though it was more for convenience than it was for keeping things cold.

“Years of practice,” Rell and Tyler said together. They did, on occasion, simultaneously speak—the way any two people who had known each other for an extended period of time would say the same thing together. But twin-fanatics found it adorable when Rell and Tyler spoke together and always made a huge deal about it.

It pissed both brothers off.

Rell was happy that Crowley didn’t comment on it at all, only went on to ask if Berry Hill was called Berry Hill because of berries.

“Yes,” Tyler said. “But if you do find any berries up there, definitely don’t touch them.”

“They dared me to eat one once,” Sondra told him with a sigh. “And I puked for like an hour.”

Rell and Tyler exchanged a look behind her back and then burst into laughter.

“What?” she tossed over her shoulder.

“That’s just not how I remember it,” Rell said.

“Yeah, I think it was more like, ‘Rell! Tyler! Look! Look! Dare me to eat this weird berry I found?’”

“Well, you didn’t say
no
,” she reminded them.

“I’m pretty sure I begged you not to eat it,” Tyler told her. “And just to preempt any puking, Sondra: no one wants to see you eat anything you find on Berry Hill.”

Sondra tossed back her head and laughed, and in the bright Christmas morning, her voice seemed to travel for miles.

“I like your outfit, Sondra,” Crowley said kindly and Rell snickered. His cousin was dressed in the ritzy ski-lodge gear her mother had bought her the year before. She wore a fur-lined, hot pink tech jacket over tight ski pants. Her little pink boots (also fur-lined) kicked up snow as she walked.

“You know how sometimes our dear Tyler here likes to dress ‘ironically’?”

“I do not,” Tyler sniffed.

“You do too,” Sondra, Crowley, and Rell said together.

“Well, this is my version of being ironic. I think this is the ugliest, most ridiculous outfit I’ve ever owned. But it’s warm.”

“Have you ever been sledding?” Rell asked, and Crowley shook his head with a bemused smile. The sun reflected off the snow and made their eyes sparkle. It was bright, it was beautiful, it was Christmas Day, and they were up for anything.

I
T
WAS
the most fun Rell could ever remember having while sledding and there had been some phenomenal times when he and Tyler were kids (and still liked each other). Sondra sat on the cooler, her legs crossed, and she sang a really horrible version of
Ave Maria
at the top of her lungs—offending eardrums everywhere. This was before she’d even finished her first beer.

Rell exhilarated in the pure rush of throwing himself on the sled, spreading his arms wide, and flying down the hill on his stomach. Snow kicked into his face and he smiled, feeling the cold blast of snow chunks and wintery air. He beamed as he hopped up at the bottom of the hill and dragged the sled back up for another go or to give someone else a turn.

With their two sleds, they had races. Tyler won every time. Something about his lithe body made him aerodynamically suited to stomach-surf down the hill. By the third win, he was yelling to the whole neighborhood, “I’m the Sled King! All lesser sledders bow before my greatness!”