Yours for Christmas

by Joe Satoria

  He patted has hands against his chest. “Your parents love me.”

  “My mum,” he corrected. “But don’t worry, it doesn’t matter where you said half your family was from, he would’ve said something offensive anyway.”

  “Amazing, I love that, raw northern hospitality.”

  Spencer sucked it up and opened the bedroom door. He flicked the flight switch and revealed his childhood bedroom—and occasional here for the holidays room. He entered first in anticipation of his mother adding her flourishes.

  It was a box room. The smallest of all the bedrooms. Walls were dark blue, and the floor was hardwood with a slim rug running along the bed. One large window covered most of one wall, and beside another wall a large wardrobe.

  “See,” he said, inviting him inside.

  “For us?” he asked, nodding to the bed. Two wrapped presents laid on top of the pillows.

  “Oh god.” Spencer choked back at the sight of it. “Also, you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

  “What are they?”

  Spencer massaged a hand at his forehead. “Pyjamas, Christmas pyjamas, like I’m a child. And there’s two sets, because of course, I told her I had a boyfriend.” He pressed a hand against the door, closing it.

  “I feel like I should’ve bought them something,” Gio said, sitting on the bed, he bounced slightly, pressing his hands down.

  “No,” he snapped. “And, also—what was—”

  “Memory?” he asked, feeling the firmness of the bed.

  “What?”

  “Is it memory foam?”

  “Yeah.”

  Gio’s eye rolled back as he mimed relaxation. “I’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “Oh, no, no, you’re on the floor,” he said, folding his arms and tapping his foot.

  “Why?” Gio stood. “Listen, I’m just trying to get into character.”

  “Is that what the kiss was for?”

  “What kiss?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “Ahhh,” he smirked to himself. “We were under mistletoe. Plus, you looked uncomfortable, so yeah, I was trying to sell it. I want the full family Christmas experience.” His eyes lit up. “Please tell me you have one of those old coal fireplaces where you drink hot chocolate by.”

  Spencer patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, no, we have central heating,” he said. “You haven’t travelled through time.”

  “Har—har.”

  A loud bang came from the front door. “Whose stupid car is in the way?” a voice screamed out. “Mum!”

  Spencer’s lips perked to smile. “That’ll be Colleen,” he said. “Let’s get through her interrogation and we both might live.”

  “I—sorry, that was your sister?”

  “Yes, and you’re parked where she usually parks,” he added.

  “Great,” he mumbled, pressing a smile on his face. “I asked you where to park, you should’ve—”

  Spencer opened the bedroom door. “Colleen,” he called out.

  “Spencer brought home a boy,” Mrs Grant’s voice travelled faster and further.

  He turned back in the upstairs hallway to see Gio. “This might be more like hell for you now, bring you down to my level.”

  “No, no,” he said, flashing his ever-impressing smile. “I can get through this. They’ll love me. My jumper has flashing bulbs on it.”

  Colleen was thirty and had moved back home permanently two years ago after a mental breakdown. It was a mixture of things, work, relationships, but mostly when she caused the company to lose thousands of pounds worth of merchandise from the shop floor. She was shorter than Spencer with blonde hair and stick thin from a diet of cigarettes and sugar-free energy drinks, but the appetite of a blue whale.

  “We all thought you were going to skip this year,” Colleen said, pulling her younger brother in for a hug. “Now, I know that’s not your car Spence, so where’s this dying sugar daddy you’ve brought over.”

  “Sugar daddy?” Gio repeated back, appearing behind Spencer from the staircase.

  “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Mrs Grant said, this time feeling like a personal attack on Spencer.

  “You’re not Spencer’s type,” Colleen’s first words to him were. “And if that’s your car, please move it.”

  “Gio,” he said, smiling.

  “Ok, Gio, move your car.”

  Spencer watched as Gio turned red for the first time, and it wasn’t just the reflection of colour from his jumper. “Yeah—um—sure.” He reached out for Spencer’s arm. “Spence,” he said, “do you want to—”

  “I’ll come,” Colleen said. “I’ll tell you where to park your fancy car. Don’t worry. You won’t get robbed.”

  Spencer watched as Gio left through the front door with Colleen, his frightened face in her face of aggression, perhaps this was the moment he should savour for the water cooler gossip at work.

  “You know what she’s like,” Mrs Grant said softly, shaking her head. “Anyhoo, did you see the presents on the bed?”

  “I did.” He continued to watch the front door, part of him wondering whether or not Gio would leave him stranded there. “We were just about to open them.”

  “He’s a real catch, Spence.”

  His gut knotted. It was all fake compliments for a fake boyfriend. “Thanks.”

  “Your aunties, Diane and Bev will be around tomorrow,” she said. “Bev told Frank, so, he’ll be over too.”

  “No.”

  “I know, but none of his kids want anything to do with him,” she continued. “It’s alright though, your dad has already said he wouldn’t let him bother you too much.”

  “Great,” he said, when he didn’t mean it. Frank Grant, Spencer’s uncle was his least favourite member of the family, not only was he homophobic, he also believed he was the gift of god, and that was a surprise he was going to keep for Giovanni—a straight boy playing gay.

  “I hope your sister isn’t being too tough on him,” his mother said. “I should’ve mentioned it when you parked. She’ll be fine, I’ll make her a gin.” She rushed off back through the living room.

  Nora continued to sit and chain smoke as she watched black and white Christmas movies. Although it was hard to tell if she was watching them or not given the thick layer of smoke between her and the screen.

  Colleen entered the house first. “Seems nice,” she said, passing Spencer.

  Gio followed after, shaking his head. “I thought you said she’d be nice,” he whispered. “I’m parked out on the road now. I don’t mind, but you could’ve said.” He grabbed Spencer by the wrist, pulling his hand out. “You left your phone in the car.”

  “Want something to drink?” Spencer asked, turning his phone over to see no new notifications.

  “What?”

  “Pass the time, alcohol, try to bond without getting too loose lipped.”

  “Alcohol,” he smiled and nodded.

  “That means if you decide to run off because my family is too intense, you can’t drive.”

  “Ah, so what you’re saying is, you need me to get through this, and that I can sleep in the bed tonight.”

  Spencer looked to him through narrowed eyes. “I’ll sleep on the floor then,” he said before leading the way through the second reception room with the Christmas tree, it was a direct route to the kitchen.

  “This is the Christmas spirit,” Gio said, tugging at Spencer’s arm.

  They stood and looked at the twinkling lights. There was a small red tree skirt around the bottom, collecting fallen spruce needles. Spencer glanced at Gio’s face, he was taken in by the lights, his mouth slightly open as he watched in awe.

  “Come on,” Spencer said, this time pulling Gio away.

  The kitchen was large, with a huge granite island counter and bar at the centre of it all. There was a double stove and matching double fridge-freezer. It came across as shock as Gio looked at all the appliances and space.

  Back when Spencer’s parents bought the house, you
could buy more for your money, and it was in the north of England, where space and money stretched further than it did in the south, or specifically London.

  “My nonna would love this place,” Gio said.

  Colleen pulled her face away from the large gin glass. “Figured you were half of something, Spanish, right?”

  “Italian,” Spencer said.

  “Oh, pasta,” she snickered back to herself.

  “Pizza and pesto too,” Spencer added.

  “You boys want gin?” Mrs Grant asked. “Got the pink one—with the glitter.”

  Spencer looked to Gio. This was what it meant to be gay; pink and glitter.

  “Surprise me,” Gio said.

  “Don’t,” Spencer shook his head.

  Mrs Grant tutted. “He’s right, I’m not a big drinker, so my pours are usually—”

  Colleen picked her head from the gin glass. “Heavy handed,” she finished.

  “Well then,” Gio offered back with a shrug. “I’ll take the pinkest sparkly gin drink you’ve got.”

  “Oh?” Spencer was shocked to hear. “Make it two.”

  “You two best get seated then,” she said. “Two Chrimbo cocktails coming up.”

  Spencer sat along the island counter between his sister and fake boyfriend. “How’ve you been?”

  “Great,” Colleen chuckled. “Mum makes me drinks every night, and I get to live in perpetual this.” She gestured out with a single hand while her other hand swilled the large glass. “So, how long have you and your Italian stallion been together?”

  “Stallion,” Gio repeated back in Spencer’s ear.

  “Two—three months,” Spencer answered. “Yeah, we’ve been taking it slow.”

  Gio wrapped an arm around Spencer’s shoulder. “I wanted to visit sooner, he’s always talking about how much he loves his family, especially his sister.”

  “Oh, that’s funny,” she said. “Because when I wanted to come and visit, apparently you were too busy for guests.”

  “In all fairness, Coll, it was last minute, and I was pitching all week for a big campaign.”

  “The vitamin one?” Gio asked. “Hated that one.”

  “Oh, do you work together?” his mother asked, removing gin glasses from the fridge. “That how you met?”

  “No,” he snapped back. “No, I just told him about it.”

  “How did you meet?”

  Gio squeezed at the side of Spencer’s arm, but in the moment, he’d forgotten. They’d only just been going over it, recalling the casting lines back to each other, and now was the time, they were ready for the audition.

  “Funny story—” Gio started.

  “Actually—”

  “Oh, you go.”

  “No, you tell it.”

  Gio squeezed him at the side again. “Right, well,” he began. “I saw him sitting alone, stood up, on a date, probably—”

  “N—no,” Spencer said, his words stuttering on the end of his tongue. “That’s—” he pressed his lips to Gio, shutting them both up.

  That was kiss number two.

  Colleen let out a mock vomit sound. “Happy for you.”

  FOUR

  After finishing the first glass of gin, supper arrived and the family, with the exception of Spencer’s grandmother Nora turned into the dining room where plates had been set for them to eat their paper wrapped fish and chips.

  “Ever had proper fish and chips before?” Spencer’s dad interrogated Gio as he sat by Spencer’s side, looking at the fully battered fish and the wet grease paper surrounding it. “This is as good as you’ll get anywhere on Christmas Eve.”

  “I—um—I haven’t,” he answered.

  Colleen smiled, grabbing at the bottle of vinegar. “With his body,” she chuckled. “I doubt he’s even seen a decent supper.” She smacked her lips.

  “My body,” Gio mumbled. “I—I go to the gym.”

  “He loves the gym,” Spencer said. “More than me. We might even break up over it.” he said, with a reassuring nod to Gio. Sowing the seed for a break-up would hurt his mother’s feelings less.

  Gio broke up the fish the back of the fork, mushing it down into the paper. “We go to the gym together.”

  “Don’t be a silly billy,” Mrs Grant chimed in with a chuckle. “Now, I did order salt and vinegar on all of them, but obviously we’re keen on vinegar in this house.”

  Mr Grant nodded at the comment. “That we are.”

  “Hopefully, you don’t find this too much to stomach,” Mrs Grant said, “because I have a large feast planned tomorrow. I figure, it’s Christmas, we’ve got to indulge.”

  “Absolutely,” Gio chuckled. “That’s why I’ve got this jumper on. Hides the dinner belly.”

  And suddenly, Spencer became conscious of his body. Not particularly either way athletic or unfit, he went to the gym, but he also ate just as much as he burned. “My mum was telling me we’ve got guests tomorrow,” he said.

  Colleen grumbled, looking up to Spencer as she faced down to her food. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Your brother?” Gio asked.

  “It’s a big event,” Mrs Grant expressed with glee. “Spence has never brought anyone home before. You’re the first, and hopefully the last.”

  Spencer looked to Gio from the side of his eyes, this was the feared engagement talk he had forewarned him of. It was only a matter of time. “Aw, well, I wasn’t going to say, but I saw a ring in his things.”

  A metallic clang sounded. “Oh my god,” Mrs Grant let out, her earrings swinging frantically as she looked up and down the table.

  Gio choked on a chip. “Wha—what?”

  “It’s a joke,” Spencer said, “relax, it’s a joke.”

  Mr Grant scoffed. “Good, we’ve already got your brother’s wedding on the cards next year, we don’t need one of your fancy ones as well.”

  “Fancy?” Gio asked.

  “A gay one,” Colleen said.

  “Oh,” Gio frowned back, looking to Spencer.

  “You do love my Spencer, though, don’t you,” Mrs Grant asked.

  “Yeah?” Spencer asked, turning to him. “Do you love me?”

  Chewing on his tongue, Gio hummed. “Yeah, of course.”

  Wide eyes and blinking wildly, Spencer nodded. “Say it then.”

  “I love you.”

  Spencer pressed his lips down with his teeth, trying not to smile or laugh.

  “Say it back,” Gio said. “Or—”

  “Aw, Spence,” his mother added.

  Gio placed his hand behind Spencer’s head, on his shoulders and neck. It was rare Spencer was touched like this, and to have been touched like this so much in less than a few hours, he tried his hardest to keep it together. “I love you too.”

  Mrs Grant let out a sniffle. “Oh, my Jesus, I’m about to weep.”

  Gio pulled Spencer forward as he pressed his head to kiss him.

  The third kiss. Three.

  Spencer counted each of them, making sure to keep a tally of what had happened and what was going on. The non-verbal agreement hadn’t covered kissing, it hadn’t during the first one, and certainly not during the third.

  After it, Spencer looked to his father, his eyes shunned away. He looked ahead to see Gio’s eyes were closed, gently, as if fluttering open slightly to see him. The way he hesitated for a moment before moving his head away.

  “Stop it,” Spencer mumbled, shrugging Gio’s hand away from him. He was getting a kick out of it, the smile on his face. The ever-confident Gio, doing as he pleased. Spencer looked back to his plate, murdering the flutter in his stomach with fried food.

  “Do you see your family much, love,” Mrs Grant asked across the table.

  Gio hummed, pressing his lips together as he chewed. “Not all the time, my parents just sold their house in Kent,” he said. “They’re abroad at the minute, but they’re setting up a company in Italy.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she replied. “What type of business are they
in?”

  “Manufacturing,” he answered with a nod, looking to Mr Grant.

  “Ooh,” Colleen chuckled. “Fancy man.” She nodded to Spencer.

  “What type of manufacturing?” Mr Grant asked. “I can imagine it’s cheaper labour in Italy.”

  “Dad,” Spencer scolded, his knees hitting the table leg with a shaking thud.

  “Nathan,” Mrs Grant added, softer, reaching out to her husband’s hand.

  Gio smirked. “They’re making Italian beer, actually.”

  “Oh, no,” Spencer let out beneath his breath.

  Mr Grant’s rotund face turned back to his supper. “S’pose some people like that,” he grumbled out.

  It was clear from the way conversation topics were going, they should avoid any of them while Mr Grant was in ear-shot. Gio seemed to take pleasure in his comments while Spencer’s head sank in on his neck, watching his father interact. At first, he believed bringing Gio along would teach him about hell, instead he was giving as good back, resilient to the family.

  “Right,” Colleen declared, punching a hand on the table. “I will be having a lie-in tomorrow, don’t wake me, if the house is on fire, don’t wake me.” Her voice turned into a deep demonic growl.

  “Likewise,” Mr Grant grumbled, crunching up the paper waste. “You know, if I fall asleep in the den, keep me there. I’ll wake up when the Queen’s speech starts.”

  “Ok, sweetie,” Mrs Grant said back to them both, and as they appeared to walk off, her smile faded slightly. “They both work so hard, it’s the least we can do for them.”

  “What time will you be up?” Gio asked.

  “Early,” she chuckled, fanning her face with a hand. “It’s such a special day and the build-up needs a payoff, so I’m up a little early to get everything ready. Then there’s the turkey, the beef, but of course, my mother won’t eat either, so I have to make provisions, and make sure it’s all easily chewed, especially because she doesn’t like wearing her dentures, although she manages to wolf down a chippy supper.” She prattled on and on, but it was music to Gio’s ears. He grew up in loud houses where everyone competed to have the strongest and loudest voice, but here Mrs Grant ruled, and she was quite soft spoken.