The Santa Mug (3 page)

“Which in turn made Max, carrying a freshly filled pitcher of beer, bump into me,” Darren added. “We looked like washouts at a wet T-shirt contest and smelled like a brewery. We basically became friends while trying to wash the stink out of our shirts.”

“Of course, giving it back to that bonehead pretty much cemented us,” Max said.

Carl looked eager. “Oh? What did you do to him?”

Max and Darren looked at each other for a moment and began laughing. Finally, Darren motioned for him to continue.

“Oh, it wasn’t much, really. And it only cost us a pitcher each. The game was particularly good that day.” Max glanced at Darren. “College playoffs, wasn’t it?” Darren nodded, and he continued. “Everybody was yelling and cheering, and we just let ourselves get jostled, same as he did to me, only he got it from two directions at once.”

“That, and you plowed into his back,” Darren said.

Max snorted. “He wouldn’t have fallen quite so hard if you hadn’t tripped him.”

“Well, it was my favorite shirt,” Darren said defensively.

“And even wet, it looked good on you,” Max’s eyes were dancing. “Anyway, by the time the gorilla got himself untangled from the chairs and the other people, we were already out in the parking lot, laughing our asses off and running for our lives.”

“I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat. He was pretty big, and you were even skinnier then.” Darren winked at Emily, who seemed not to notice. Instead, she was staring at her son as if he had suddenly sprouted a third eye.

Max squirmed uncomfortably under her steady gaze until she finally spoke.

“It’s almost like I don’t know you anymore, Maxie. Roughing up people, drinking in bars.”

“Ma, it was just the one time, and besides, I
am
an adult.” Distress creased his face as she continued to stare at him.

“Em?” Carl began, reaching for his wife. “He’s not a child—”

Emily cut him off with a look and suddenly buried her face in her hands, wailing. “My baby boy is all grown up!”

Her histrionics might have been more effective were it not for the peals of merry laughter that followed. “Maxie, baby, you’re worse than your father was.”

Max stared at her like a cornered rabbit until Carl huffed.

“Never mind, Em. We don’t need to go into that.” Carl’s lofty tone made his wife laugh all the more.

Emily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’ll tell you boys all about it later,” she said, throwing a look at Carl, who managed to look pained and amused at the same time. “For now, though,” she continued, still smiling broadly, “it’s bedtime for me. The rest of the kids’ll start showing up early, and I want to at least have the coffee on before the rioting starts.”

Max looked at his watch and yawned. “Is everybody really going to be here?”

“They better be or I’ll know why not,” Emily locked the brakes on Carl’s wheelchair. “It’ll be the first time in six years I’ll have had all my children under one roof, and nothing had better interfere.” She waited while Carl shifted himself off the couch and into his wheelchair. “And Darren, I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am to have you here with us,” she said as Carl unlocked the brakes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Terreigne. I’m glad to be here.”

Emily sniffed. “We really do have to work on that, dear.”

“Leave him be, Em. It’s nice to see some good old-fashioned courtesy around here for a change.”

“But it makes me feel old.”

“Hate to tell you, but you are old, sweetie.”

“Carl!”

“Good night, boys,” Carl said, looking over his shoulder and grinning as Emily rolled him down the hall.

“Night, Dad.” Max stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna crash too. What about you?”

“Right behind you,” Darren said. “Do we need to lock up or anything?”

“I’ve got it. Head on up if you want, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Darren nodded and started for the stairs. He paused and turned around. “Thank you, Max. I think I needed this.” Darren turned and left without another word.

Max stared after him, too startled to reply. He finally flipped the switch on the near wall, plunging the room into darkness. “I know you do,” he said to the empty room as he started up the stairs.

5

Darren
woke from a sound sleep under the combined weight of two small bodies jumping on him.

“Uncle Max, Uncle Max! Wake up!” Kara and Kia, six-year-old twins, froze in surprise when Darren poked his head out from beneath his blanket. “You’re not Uncle Max.” One of the girls crossed her arms accusingly.

“Hey! I’m over here.” Max sat up and straightened the T-shirt he was wearing. “Come give me a snuggle.”

One of the pair squealed and sprinted across the space to throw herself into Max’s arms. The other remained sitting with arms crossed, her face creased with a child’s irritation. “Who are you?” she demanded.

Darren pulled himself up. He shivered slightly as the cool air hit his bare chest. “My name is Darren. What’s yours?”

“Kia,” the little girl said. “That’s my sister,” pointing to the other girl who was shrieking with laughter as Max tickled her.

“Nice to meet you, Kia.”

“You have hair on your chest like Daddy. Mommy says she is going to mow him one of these days.” Kia paused, looking critically at Darren’s chest. “I don’t think yours is ready to cut yet.”

Darren pulled his blanket up a little higher, unable to think of a single thing to say.

Max laughed. “She’s right you know. Not a very likely looking crop you got there.”

Darren glared at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“Kia, come here, baby, and give me my hug. Then you and Kara can tell Mommy and Daddy we’ll be right down, okay?”

Kia got off Darren’s bed and gave Max a perfunctory hug, still eying Darren over her shoulder. Max finally got her full attention by blowing raspberries on her neck. She shrieked as only a six-year-old girl can and tried to push away. “Uncle Max, that’s gross!” she said, scrubbing at her neck.

“You bet, and there’s plenty more where that came from if you two don’t scoot and let us get dressed. Now, scram!” Max made as if to do it again, and both girls screamed. They ran for the door and slammed it shut behind them.

“What in the hell was that?” Darren demanded, his head still reeling with the onslaught.

“Thundering horde, remember? Those are Mark and Carla’s girls.”

Darren shook his head. “They don’t exactly act alike, do they?”

“No,” Max agreed. “Kia has always been the leader of the pair. In fact—”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. “Are you decent in there?” A musically feminine voice called through the door.

Max started to say “Yes,” but Darren overrode him.

“No! We’re humping like bunnies!”

A startled gasp and quickly muffled giggles sounded from the other side of the door.

Darren got out of bed and pulled on jeans and a clean T-shirt. He looked at Max, who sat staring at him. “What? I wanted enough time to get my damned pants on before anyone else came blasting through that door.”

Max burst out laughing. “You’ve done it now. I think that was my sister, Carrie, and unless I miss my guess, her oldest daughter, Monica.” Max shook his head. “She’s fourteen.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Max.”

Max laughed. “Doesn’t matter to me. Just know that by the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the whole house will have heard. Monica isn’t exactly discreet.”

Darren shook his head. “I used to regret being an only child, but not anymore.”

“Come on,” Max said as he, too, donned jeans and a shirt. “Let’s go down and face the firing squad together.”

*  *  *

 “
Maxie
!” A man roughly the size of a Cincinnati linebacker grabbed Max and yanked him off his feet, swinging him around and laughing. “Where have you been, you little shit? I’ve missed you at these shindigs.” He set Max on his feet and planted a solid kiss on the top of his head.

“Jeez, Elliot. Warn a guy first, will ya? If I’d have eaten already, you’d be wearing it right now.” Max scowled up at him, then his face broke into a sunny smile. “I missed you too.” He turned to introduce Darren. “Elliot, this is my bodyguard, Darren. Darren, my oldest brother, Elliot.”

“Hey, yeah. I heard about you. Bunnies! Good one, man.” Elliot shook Darren’s hand, and Darren wondered briefly if his shoulder would dislocate.

“Nice to meet you, Elliot. Thanks.”

“Wow, Ma was right. He is polite.” Elliot turned to Max. “You should be guarding him. He’s gonna get eaten alive.” He winked at Darren and then turned toward the kitchen, shouting, “Hey Connie! Come see the baby. He’s all grown up now!”

Carl, seated in a recliner and wearing his prosthetics, laughed softly. “Welcome to the family, Darren.”

“But Max and I aren’t seeing each other!”

“Doesn’t matter, son. Guilt by association.”

The doorbell rang, and Max moved to answer it. Three kids burst through, swirling past like an incoming wave around a piling, shouting “Grandma! Grandpa!” at the tops of their lungs. Max held the door open for a man and a woman as Emily emerged from the kitchen. She held out her arms and all three, two boys and a girl, bombarded her tiny frame, laughing.

“Hey Max. Long time no see.” The man clasped him in a one-armed guy hug that made Darren grin.

“Hey, William. Happy Thanksgiving,” Max said.

The woman greeted Max with considerably more enthusiasm. “Maxie!” She shrieked and leaped into his arms. “Oh, my God, how I’ve missed you!”

Max laughed and swung her around. “I’ve missed you, too, Liz. How are you?”

“I’m good, now that I see you. Where is he?”

“Where’s who? There’s a herd of people scattered around,” Max said.

“Your guy, Darren. Mom e-mailed my phone on the way over here.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Ma and her e-mail, I swear. He’s not my guy, Sis. Just a friend I wanted to bring.” He turned and motioned to Darren standing behind him. “This is Elizabeth, the youngest of my older sisters.”

Darren nodded and held out his hand. Elizabeth squealed and launched herself into his startled embrace, much as she had done to Max.

“I don’t do handshakes, Mister. Not for any friend of my baby brother.”

“It’s, um, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mom was right,” she said to Max as she stepped out of the way to introduce her husband. “This is William. He’s the one responsible for that noisy brood over there.” She pointed to the children who still had Emily pinned.

“William, it’s a pleasure,” Darren said.

“Likewise,” William’s tone was anything but warm.

“Hey, you three!” Carl roared, sitting forward in his chair and startling the entire room to momentary silence. “Are you going to come give me a hug, or do I have to come over there and get them myself?”

Emily stood and shooed the grandkids toward Carl. The oldest of the three, a boy perhaps thirteen, immediately exclaimed. “Hey look! Grandpa’s got feet!”

Elizabeth’s horrified “Jason!” was drowned out by Carl’s bark of laughter.

“Yes, I do, boy, and that means I can kick your butt.” Carl made as if to get up, and the children scattered. The middle boy bumped into Darren and might have fallen if Darren hadn’t caught him and set him back on his feet.

“Sorry,” the boy said, and he ran off.

Darren straightened to find William frowning. “No harm. It’s all good.”

“I suppose so. Thank you.” William turned and walked away, leaving Darren feeling like he’d just been punched in the stomach.

6

Darren
retreated to the relative safety of the bedroom, telling Max he intended to finish dressing. Max had nodded absently, distracted by the conversation he was having with Elizabeth. Darren crossed the living room, pausing only long enough to check out the game playing on the widescreen TV before he ascended the stairs. He made a conscious effort not to bolt up two at a time.

Darren lay back on the bed, feeling confused and overwhelmed as he stared up at the little stars pasted to the ceiling.

“Why aren’t you here with me?” he asked the stars, but they did not answer. Darren closed his eyes and tried to find the numbness that characterized his passage through the holidays, and if truth be told, most of his life over the last few years; but the sensation eluded him, chased away by the muffled voices and laughter downstairs.

He wondered again what had possessed him to agree to come in the first place, even though he already knew the answer. Marlon had loved Christmas, loved the holidays in general, and he would be appalled that his love chose not to participate, despite his absence. Darren’s numbness was as much to block out Marlon’s imagined reproach as it was to keep the season itself at bay.

Now, because of Max’s stupid, wonderful, timely offer, Darren was forced to crawl out from behind the rubble of broken memories and, if not celebrate, at least participate on behalf of the man who held him, laughing and shivering on the roof of their first apartment when the stars came out on clear winter nights.

“Get ready, baby. Here they come,” Marlon had said as twilight deepened. “I bet I spot the first star of the night.” It was a game they played often, that Darren seldom won, until he discovered much later that the “first star” Marlon so often spotted was always the same, Venus. He had thought, like most city kids, that the first star appeared wherever it was darkest.

“The stars don’t change, baby. They are eternal, just like us,” Marlon said, drawing Darren back against his chest as night fell, silent and cold, all around them.

“I guess we weren’t so eternal after all, were we?” Darren asked the paper stars, and they still did not answer. “Who am I going to lean on now?”

“You can lean on me, Darren.” Max spoke softly from the open doorway, and Darren jerked. He was unsure whether the look on Max’s face was wistfulness or caution.

“If you want to, I mean,” Max added. “Whatever you need, let me help, okay?”

“How long have you been standing there, Max?”

“Not long.” Max closed the door as softly as he had opened it. “We talked about that once, Marlon and I, about how much you leaned on him.”