The Santa Mug (4 page)

“He was never my crutch.” Darren spoke hotly; affronted by the suggestion, yet deep inside he knew it was true. Hadn’t he just been thinking the same thing?

“Marlon thought so. It worried him a little, I think. As long as he was with you, you’d go anywhere and do anything. When he was away, well, you never had the spontaneity with any of us that you did with him.”

Darren started to refute the statement, deny that anyone other than Marlon could know him that well, and stopped. Obviously someone did.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Max sat down on his own bed and sighed. “What would have been the point? When he was alive, he was all you needed and when he was gone….” Pain crossed Max’s face as his words trailed off. He stared down at his hands for a long moment and then raised his head. “You’ve always been a best friend to me, Darren. Let me be yours once in a while. If you ever need me, say so.” Max stood and snagged clean clothes from his suitcase. “Shower is across the hall and to the right. I’ll leave you clean towels,” he said as he left the room.

Darren stared at the back of the door for a moment and closed his eyes, but even in the darkness behind his eyelids he saw the shadowed pain in Max’s face. Pain he had put there, somehow. “When did I become so selfish?” he asked, but the stars made no reply.

The sound of running feet thundered down the hall outside. The high, piping laughter of children augmented and intensified the deep bass rumble. Darren braced himself, waiting for the door to crash open, but a sharp voice called from downstairs. “You lot leave them alone, or I’ll string you all by your ears!” The footsteps retreated, taking whispers and giggles with them. Darren waited, wondering if they would come back, and was surprised to feel a faint hope that they would. He looked up at the stars which were nothing more than chemicals on paper cut into fanciful shapes, yet they also represented the man he had lost, who would have adored them.

“Baby, I think you spoiled me too much,” he said, and the stars listened.

*  *  *

Darren
chose the kitchen as an alternative to the boisterous hoots and shouting that overwhelmed the living room. Most of the men were watching the game, and at any other time, he’d have been right in the thick of it, but for some reason, the implied camaraderie made him nervous.

As he stepped into the kitchen, by no means the smallest room in the house, he was immediately assaulted by heat, aromas, and women.

“Darren! Where have you been hiding? I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. Can I get you anything?”

The woman was small, and if Darren remembered correctly, she was the wife of that huge bruiser who was even now rattling the house with his animated stomping whenever the game on TV got exciting.

“I’m sorry….” Darren trailed off, letting the lapse prompt her for her name.

“Connie,” she said. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

“With Elliot, right?” Darren smiled at the memory of Max’s delight when the big man accosted him. He held out his hand for her to shake. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Gorilla in a three-piece suit. Yup. That’s him.” Connie grinned. “Mom was right about you.”

Darren laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Can I help with anything?” He looked around the kitchen inquiringly.

“Absolutely not. This is women’s work.” Connie suddenly blushed as she realized what she had said.

“Women and bachelors who don’t call for take-out very often,” Darren agreed.

“Good save.” Another woman, a good deal less petite but still pretty, said as she crossed to their side of the kitchen. “I heard that comment you made this morning, as did my daughter.”

Darren looked abashed. “Then you must be Carrie. I do apologize for that. I was just trying to buy enough time to get dressed without anyone else coming in for a visit.”

Carrie smiled. “Don’t apologize on my account. Monica was sure this little trip was going to be ‘a total bore’, as she put it, but she’s been on the phone all morning with her friends talking about it, and that means she’s out of my hair for a while.”

Darren groaned. “I suppose she has a lot of friends, right?”

“Count on it.” Carrie’s eyes danced, and Darren understood she was teasing, hopefully. “But never mind that. Tell us about you and Maxie. The brat has kept himself scarce ever since he moved out. How long have you two been dating?”

“Whoa, wait.” Darren held his hands up, palm out. “We aren’t together. Max and I are just good friends.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. You two make such a cute couple.” Carrie looked intently at Darren, who fidgeted uncomfortably. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Well, sure. I mean yeah, he’s a handsome guy.”

“And so are you. You two really would make a cute couple, and I see how he looks at you.”

Darren laughed. “Thanks, but honestly, we’re just good friends.”

“Does Max know that?”

“Sure,” Darren replied easily. “He’s the one that said I was here as his bodyguard, not his date.” He grinned at the startled expression on Carrie’s face.

“Why would he need a bodyguard?” Carrie turned to her mother. “Mom? What did you say to him?”

Emily turned away from the pot she had been stirring. “I didn’t say a word.” She turned back to the stove and began stirring again. “I’m also not the one playing
Yentl
, either.”

Connie and the other women laughed at the affronted look on Carrie’s face. “Oh boy, does she have you pegged.”

Emily relinquished her pot again and turned to Darren. “Don’t pay her any mind, dear. She’s always been like that. Even when she was little, her dolls always had to be in pairs.”

“I think it’s great how everybody keeps such a close eye on him,” Darren said. “He has a wonderful family.” He paused until Carrie looked up. “Although, I have to admit, there are more of you than I thought.”

For the second time, Carrie looked startled. Then she began to laugh. “Oh my God. Mom, he’s adorable. Can we keep him?”

7

Darren
let the crisp November air and the hint of snow scrub at the pain he felt. He had walked several blocks while trying to push away memories of holidays at his house, before he came out and before all hell broke loose. As sweet as Max’s sisters were, they reminded him all too clearly of what he had lost when his own family had rejected him so completely. Marlon had been the one to remind him over and over that he had a new family now, one that would always accept him, but Marlon wasn’t here anymore, and that loss was more cutting than the snow laden air that painted his cheeks red. When he returned, Darren discovered Max sitting on the wide porch swing, staring out at the leaden gray afternoon.

“Hey,” Darren said as he sat down. “What’s up?”

Max made as if to reach for him, but he folded his hands in his lap instead. “I’m sorry, Darren. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, why?” Darren was genuinely puzzled by Max’s behavior.

“They don’t know. My sisters, I mean. I never told them about what happened with your family.”

“No reason you should have,” Darren said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Ma said you had a look on your face when you left. I asked her what happened, and she told me about the girls teasing you.” Max brushed at the snow that had accumulated on the porch railing. “Elliot was right. I should be
your
bodyguard.”

“Max, it’s all right. Like you said, they didn’t know, and besides, it doesn’t bother me all that much anyway.” Even as Darren said it, both men knew it was a lie.

“Nonsense,” Max said, and he slid closer. He put an arm around Darren’s shoulder, and to his surprise, Darren leaned in after only a moment’s hesitation, folding himself against Max’s chest.

“What’ll the neighbors think?” Darren said after a moment of silence.

“They all have e-mail,” Max said absently.

“What?”

“E-mail. No doubt Ma will have e-mailed everyone on the street, and all but a few will be ready to throw rice if we set foot on the sidewalk.”

Darren tried to straighten, but Max held him firm.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Only a little,” Max admitted. “Seriously, the neighbors won’t care in the least. Now, sit still and let me warm you up. You’re just about frozen.”

“Me? You’re the one with wet hair.” Darren reached up and pushed a stray lock out of his face. The warmth beneath his palm startled him.

Max tilted his face to meet Darren’s caress. He laid his free hand over Darren’s and turned his head to kiss Darren’s palm. Darren’s breath caught, and Max opened his eyes, startled by what he had done. “Ah, fuck, Darren. I’m sorry.”

Darren straightened again, and this time Max let him. He tried to pull away, but Darren caught the back of Max’s neck and held him. “You started this,” he said and leaned in. He kissed Max on the lips. Tenderly, almost chastely, except for the brief swipe of his tongue.

“Max.” He spoke as if he were trying out the sound for the first time; then he leaned in and kissed the owner of that name again.

Max felt himself go weak, and Darren held him easily, clasping the back of his neck as he pressed their bodies closer together. Their kiss became more urgent as long-held barriers began to crumble. Max moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Darren, pulling at his warmth and demanding still more. Darren opened for him and was immediately assailed by the crisp jolt of their tongues meeting, two lances of warmth shielded by each other’s lips from the cold air and making introductions to unexpected pleasures as they twined and writhed. Darren sucked in breath for both of them and took Max completely, giving him ample time to explore every recess and curve of his mouth before turning the tables and forcing his way back.

Max drew back to catch his breath. “Darren, I—”

“Shh. Don’t say anything yet, please.” Darren kissed him again, briefly, and then began to explore the hollow beneath Max’s jaw, the dimple behind his ear, and his neck, prospecting like a blind man, with the tip of his tongue as a cane. When he reached the hollow at the base of Max’s neck he bit tentatively and was rewarded with a softly inarticulate cry as Max jolted and locked his arms around Darren’s body.

The front door burst open, and several of the kids spilled out, laughing and chasing each other. One of the oldest, a girl, squealed and halted in her tracks. Her hands flew up and covered her mouth and her eyes were wide. The rest stopped and stared curiously at the two men huddled together on the porch swing.

“Oh, my God, I’ve got to call Evie!” the oldest declared, and she bolted back into the house.

“Let me guess,” Darren said as he straightened. “Monica, right?”

“Mouth of the South,” Max agreed.

“Grandma says to tell you dinner is almost ready if we saw you, but we aren’t ’posed to bother you ’cause you’re having a ’scussion.”

“Thanks, Sammy. Tell Grandma we’ll be right there, okay?” Max nodded toward the door, and Sammy, followed by the rest of the kids, darted back inside.

“Max, there’s just one thing I need to know.” Darren sounded unsure of himself and perhaps a little wary. He stood and held his hand out for Max.

“What’s that?”

Darren grinned. “Is Monica going to tell Evie
every
time we’re together?”

*  *  *

 “
What
did you mean, earlier?” Max said, leaning against Darren as they watched the billionth rerun of
A Christmas Story
. The children had already crashed, and most of the adults were either passed out or off in their respective rooms, victims of tryptophan overload. The few who remained awake were either talking quietly or watching the perennial rerun on TV.

“About what?” Darren said, trying to keep his eyes open.

“You said you were thankful for new things in old packages.”

“Well, you are older than me.”

“True,” Max said, not taking the bait. “What new thing?”

“You, of course.” Darren sat up and turned to face Max squarely. “I don’t know what happened, Max. We’ve known each other for almost five years, right? And in all that time, you were just good ol’ comfortable Max.”

Max’s eyes widened, and Darren laughed. He took Max’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, Max. I just mean that you were always there. Always what I needed, when I needed it, even if I didn’t want it.”

“Yeah, so?” Max didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“So, that’s all I ever saw in you. All I ever wanted to see, I guess.” Darren studied their clasped hands for a long moment. On the TV, Ralphie was screaming as he was pushed down the slide.

“When you kissed me out on the porch, I suddenly realized how selfish I was being. I’ve been pushing everyone away for so long, it’s become a mindless habit, and yet you kept coming back.” Darren looked up into Max’s face. “In fact, you never left. Never let me push you too far away, did you?”

Max shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“I understand that now, I think.” Darren clasped both of Max’s hands in his, gripping them with almost desperate intensity. “I think, if you hadn’t been there all these years, I might have lost it; curled up into a ball and let the world wash me away.”

“I would never have let that happen,” Max said. “I’ll never walk away.”

“I know that now, and I guess I’m still selfish, because I don’t want you to.”

The two men stared at each other in silence, each lost in the implications of the other’s words.

“Boys, if that isn’t an invitation to a kiss, I don’t know what is.” Carl spoke up from the far end of the couch where he sat with Emily, watching them both. Emily nodded, her wrinkled, careworn face beaming.

Max and Darren both flushed identical shades of red and pulled away from each other, though Darren still held Max’s hands.

“Well, go on, son. Kiss him.” Carl said. “We don’t mind.”

Darren cleared his throat and leaned in. Max met him halfway and they kissed, chastely enough for parental scrutiny. It wasn’t until much later, when both men were tucked up together in Darren’s bed that he wondered which of them Carl had called “son.”