Remembering Christmas (29 page)

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Authors: Drew Ferguson

BOOK: Remembering Christmas
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Another image flashed into Theo's mind, this one real: Skinny Phil Kleiber being pushed into a locker by some burly football player simply because he made the unfortunate mistake of carrying his books propped up in his arms like a girl instead of tucked at his side like a normal guy. It didn't matter that Phil's way was smarter and it was really much easier to hold your books that way; he had violated the gender laws governing book transportation and had to pay for it.
“I usually voted for Larry Stanetsky,” Rob confessed.
This shocked Theo even more than the disclosure of the group meetings. “I thought you liked Larry? You said he was the only one who was better than you at Qbert.”
Shocked, Rob couldn't reply fast enough. “He was not better than me at Qbert!”
“Then why did he have the high score at Arcade-A-Palooza?”
Rob contemplated this new piece of information and then offered a piece of his salesman skills: He changed the subject. “What I do remember is that one day in algebra he told Mrs. Inzintarri that he wanted to be addressed by his given name, Laurence, which I found to be incredibly pompous, so I voted for him to be that month's punching bag.”
Theo thought for a moment and remembered a brief time when Larry was indeed called Laurence by his teachers; he couldn't remember, however, if this time had coincided with his also being pushed into a locker or having his books knocked out of his hands. Maybe he was closer to being drunk than he thought; maybe there was a whole secret part of high school culture that he never knew existed, or maybe the crinkles around Rob's blue eyes were growing deeper because he was trying not to laugh out loud. “You, Rob Colangelo, are such a freakin' liar!”
Theo emphasized his claim by pointing his finger at Rob, but forgot that he was holding his tumbler. The emphatic gesture caused a little tidal wave to erupt within his glass and allowed a few errant drops of liquid to escape into the air and land on Rob's knee. “Oops,” Theo squealed. “Scotsman overboard!”
Grabbing a cocktail napkin, Theo pressed it into Rob's knee to absorb the liquid. He pressed down hard, completely disregarding the fact that he should have been pressing lightly to blot the liquid, and felt the muscles just underneath the worsted wool. Before he allowed himself to think about it or Rob to protest, he moved the napkin an inch or two north and pressed down even harder, discovering an even more solid muscle mass. Obviously the former track star was still disciplined and frequently used the treadmill; the muscles Theo was being introduced to were not created by walking up a few flights of stairs every day.
It might have been another slick sales tactic or it might have been an innocent move, but Rob took the cocktail napkin from Theo's hand, pressed down one final time on his knee, crumbled the paper napkin into a ball, and tossed it onto the table, all the while laughing at being caught in a fib. “Maybe not every month,” he said. “But we did have the occasional powwow, and you lost out every time.”
Rolling the napkin ball in his hands, the napkin that had just been dangerously close to a hidden part of Rob's flesh, Theo raised his eyebrows, his mind, his emotions straddled in both the past and the present. “I guess it was the one time that it was good that I was a loser.”
Leaning forward, Rob snatched the napkin from Theo's hands and playfully tossed it at his face. With perfect aim as always, it hit him right on the tip of his nose and bounced off. Before Theo's reflexes could even kick in, Rob swooped his hand in front of Theo's face and grabbed the napkin while it was in midair. “You were never a loser,” Rob corrected. “You were funny, and nobody thought you'd be funny with a black eye or, you know, a cracked rib. Except for Matty Czarnecki, he always voted to beat you up.”
That name! It was like a pudgy fist reaching out from the past and punching Theo in the stomach, like the pellet from a Red Rover BB gun ricocheting off a tree and into his eye. Like a warning that no matter how content his life got, no matter how happy and fulfilled, there would always be a reminder that he was closer to loserville than unadulterated adult success. “Oh my God, Matty Czarnecki!” Theo exclaimed. “I hated that fat prick!” Both men were stunned by Theo's outburst, Rob by the still obvious level of hatred Theo felt for his former nemesis and Theo by the still obvious level of dishonesty. “What am I saying? I
still
hate him!”
Downing another gulp of amber-colored alcohol, Rob grimaced, then spoke. “He hated you too, all through high school, but I could never figure out why.”
Raising his arms like an angry Evita, Theo shouted, “Because he was jealous of me! I was funnier than he was.”
Rob nodded his head. “Yes, you were.”
“I was smarter than he was.”
Another nod. “He was no rocket scientist that one.”
“I was better looking than he was.”
No more nodding. This time when Rob spoke he focused on the empty space in between his two hands, in between the crumbled up napkin and his drink. “That you were.”
Riled up, racing down the cold, stone path that was more commonly known as Memory Lane to meet a former foe, Theo didn't see Rob's expression, apprehensive, cautious, as if he was about to plunge down his own rabbit hole to another time, a hole that had been securely locked and barricaded for over a decade. A hole that had been closed up for so long, its contents were no longer fully remembered; what remnants of the past lay down there were anybody's guess. Theo was privy to none of that; he was too keenly aware of his own fat ghost that had suddenly reemerged from the depths of his own private darkness. “But I was funnier, smarter, and better looking than a lot of kids,” Theo announced. “Why the hell did Matty hate me so much?!”
With one eye gazing down the rabbit hole and another staring straight ahead at Theo's still-handsome face, Rob said, “Maybe he was a closet case and had a crush on you too.” His voice was softer, like falling snow when it finally finds a safe landing. But there was nothing safe about what Rob had said or how he had said it, not in Theo's mind; he said the word “too,” and he said it quietly—it was something so important that it needed to be heard. It was an admission that they had been more than just friends, they weren't just friendly with each other, they had had a relationship, not just the one-sided courtship that Theo imagined every waking moment of his life. It had been something real.
While Theo was processing this information, however, he remained silent, and in the real world silence usually makes another person talk, which is what Rob did. When Theo was finally prepared to listen once again to what Rob was saying, he was surprised he was still talking about that Czarnecki asshole, this time in the present day. “Corinne's got a place near him down Long Beach Island,” Rob said. “He's married now, bunch of unruly kids, I think he's a fireman.”
“That fat thing is a fireman?!”
So much for quiet, important speech.
But sometimes loud, unimportant remarks are just as welcome. Rob's pensive gaze was replaced by an unshy grin. “I haven't seen Fatty Czarnecki in years. But I assume he lost some of his baby fat in order to pass the fireman test.”
“The only way he can ever redeem himself in my mind is if he lost enough weight to be in one of those hot fireman calendars,” Theo declared. “And Mr. July or August so he's only wearing a fire hat and his naked body is drenched in that white, foamy fire extinguisher stuff!”
As Theo's words sunk into his brain, humiliation rose from his toes. Eerily, Whitney Houston was singing “Do You Hear What I Hear?” over the airport loudspeaker, and Theo wanted to scream at her, “Yes, Miss Whitney, you did hear me make a fool out of myself, Rob heard me, the pilots circling the tarmac probably heard me too because I'm loud and I'm tactless.”
Suddenly it was Mr. Hesterfer's Spanish class all over again, clumsy silence followed by effortless laughter. Just as he did when they were kids, Rob saved the day: He rescued Theo simply by letting him know he understood, he was on his side, he shared in the joy. And just like when they were kids Theo was grateful, relieved that he wasn't on his own, stranded alone in the spotlight, burned as a result of his own foolish, reckless behavior.
I don't like being alone.
For a second Theo wasn't sure if he thought the words or spoke them out loud. Watching Rob, still laughing, mumbling something that sounded like “Fatty Czarnecki and his little fat, red dick,” Theo figured the comment had gone unspoken, but spoken or not, why did it pop into his head?
Maybe because it's the truth.
While Rob continued to make himself laugh by imagining their fat high school friend as a naked fireman, Theo took a sip of Scotch. The alcohol no longer burned harshly and made his face scowl; it wasn't nearly as delightful and tasty as a peppermintini, but he was getting used to the taste, and he was also getting used to being in Rob's company. It was as if the past fifteen or so years of no communication had never happened, as if Rob had been in his life every day since the last time they met, like Theo dreamed would happen, like their adulthood was merely a continuation of every year that had come before. As if Theo's life was completely different and nothing had changed.
“You are still the same, dude!” Rob exclaimed. “I mean Teddy, uh sorry, Theo.”
Just listening to Rob trip over his words made Theo smile.
He is still adorable, no matter what he says or does, he can't help but be adorable.
“I can't wait to tell Audra that I bumped into you.”
“Who's Audra?”
“My wife.”
Except that.
Theo had been having such a surprisingly fabulous time revisiting the past that he had forgotten about Rob's present; he had forgotten even that he had brought up the subject of Rob's marital status before they accidently drove off course. Or perhaps it wasn't an accident at all, perhaps Theo deliberately steered them into the right lane so they could take a U-turn in their conversation. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't know which it was. The Scotch and the Christmas music and the memories and staring at Rob's face, manly, yet still clinging on to its boyhood, were starting to have an intense effect on Theo. “Oh that's right,” Theo said, sounding as nonchalant as a person who wasn't at all nonchalant could sound. “You have a wife.”
Rob didn't respond verbally. Instead, he nodded his head, sipped his drink, waved his hand in the air, multitasking furiously so he didn't have to speak. So of course Theo did it for him. “I always thought you'd marry Debbie Testa.”
“Debbie Testa,” Rob mumbled, the name muffled by the crunch of an ice cube. “Oh God, I haven't thought about her in years.”
Disbelief took claim over Theo's face. “You took her to the prom, Rob.”
“Well yeah, I know that, but the only reason I took her was 'cause
you
took her best friend, whatshername, Stephanie. . . .”
When it was clear that Rob was not going to be able to remember Stephanie's last name, Theo supplied it for him. “Ott.”
“Who was really, really hot!” Rob accentuated his point by slamming his hand down hard on the table.
“Um, okay, if you say so.”
“And Debbie was not!” This time Rob slammed his hand down even harder, making Theo jump a bit. He wanted to continue speaking, but he was laughing so hard he couldn't. Theo didn't want to laugh, he was unhappy that Rob had brought up his wife, but Rob's laugh was contagious. But then it dawned on Theo that he might have something to laugh about where Rob's wife was concerned; each time she was brought up, the conversation reverted back to a pre-wife, pre-heterosexual topic. Maybe there was hope after all.
“Stephanie was hot, and you knew it too,” Rob said. “She was one of the hottest girls at the prom.”
That's not what I remember about the prom, Rob. I remember me, you, your father's flask filled with peach schnapps, and sneaking out into the woods behind the Fiesta to drink and make out before heading back to our dates.
“Maybe, but I wasn't really interested in her,” Theo admitted.
Before Theo finished his comment, Rob interrupted, eager to continue the saga of the hot girl from the prom. “I remember Cliff Degelman asked me if your parents paid Stephanie to go with you.”
What?!
“He did not!” Theo said, clearly insulted.
“God's honest truth,” Rob replied. “He said there was no way somebody as hot as Stephanie would go to the prom with somebody like you.” This time Rob interrupted Theo before he even opened his mouth to speak. “And let it be known that I told Degelman you were way hot enough for a girl like Stephanie.”
And there's the sweet Rob Theo remembered. “You said that?” Theo asked. “You really told Cliff Degelman that I was hot?”
For the first time Rob blushed as red as the Santa hat the old lady next to him was wearing. With his twinkling blue eyes and red cheeks, he looked like a real-live Christmas decoration; more than ever Theo wanted to take him home and put him on his tree. Even though he hadn't put up a tree this year. Or any decorations. He still wanted to take him home, and he felt that way even after Rob backpedaled. “Well, I may have said that you were way cool,” Rob confessed. “But, well, you know, I meant hot.”

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