by Joe Satoria
Mr Grant huffed. “That, and Frank’s bleeding children won’t have him over for Christmas anymore, will they?”
“Uncle Frank,” Jack’s voice repeated back dryly. “Auntie Diane too?”
“Yes, I know,” Colleen snapped. “Thank you, Jack. The woman is a walking sponge, she’ll have the liquor cupboard bled dry.”
“I’ll get the presents,” Gio said, softly, pressed to Spencer’s side.
Spencer took a hold of Gio’s arm. “I’m coming too.”
“Oh, where are you too off?” Mrs Grant asked.
“Presents,” Spencer smiled back.
“Presents?” Jack asked, his head doing a chicken dance, looking around the room to the different members of the family. “Oh, okay.”
Spencer quickly led Gio out the house with him, panic in each step as they made it out of the house and into the cold. It was spitting fine rain outside, but it was welcomed by Spencer as he stood for a moment by Gio’s car.
“You really never bring presents,” he asked, fishing in his jean pocket for the car key.
“Never,” he replied.
“Your brother seems nice.”
Once the car was open, they both sat in the front seats. Spencer looking behind to the seat filled with wrapped presents.
“He was probably trying to intimidate you,” Spencer said. “Or he will do.”
Gio began pulling the wrapped gifts forward to his lap. He looked to a label. “Do I look like the type of person who is intimidated?” he pulled away the name tag. “There’s a pen in the glovebox.” He passed the gift across. “This is perfume. Your mum, maybe.”
“I’ll pay you back.” Spencer opened the glovebox, there was a work lanyard. It was Spencer’s, one he’d lost weeks ago. “What’s—”
“Oh,” he said, grabbing at another present. “Yeah, found it, was going to give it you, but must’ve forgotten.” He passed the second present along after taking away the tag. “This is a whisky, good stuff too.”
“Where’d you find it?” Spencer asked.
Gio shrugged, grabbing at another gift. “On the floor, probably.”
“I had to get another printed, it was a huge pain going to HR.”
He snickered. “That can be another gift from me to you then.” He pulled away another tag before handing it over. “That’s a cream, I’m sure your sister would like it.”
“Hold up, Santa Clause,” Spencer said, grabbing at the pen. “They’re going to think this is invasion of the body snatchers, me too, actually, I feel—happy.”
Gio smiled at the comment. “Let’s sort the rest out and go back inside.”
“Don’t rush me, I’m trying to remember.”
“It’s so I can kiss you again,” he said. “I don’t want to waste one in here when nobody will see.”
“Rightly so as well, we’re doing this to show my family how great life is.” Spencer nodded. “But kinda begs the question what all that kissing last night was about.”
Gio stared at the side of Spencer’s face, smiling for a moment. He was getting lost in the feeling, he was getting lost in the moment of it all before his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t accept that this would all be over with.
Carrying all the newly regifted presents back into the house, Gio grew quiet behind Spencer. He was losing himself in thought, he was losing himself in the person Spencer was as Spencer found himself in the happiness Gio semi-forced upon him.
They were all seated in the living room, waiting.
“These are from me and Gio,” Spencer said. “They’re just little bits.”
Gio nodded. “Yeah.”
“We’ll do ours first,” he said. “Mum.” He said, nodding to the first present on the pile. “Coll.” He nodded. “Dad. One for gran. Jack. Tina.”
Each of them was given a gift, wrapped in a gold and white Christmas tree print. They waited until each one had their gift in hand before opening. Gio continued to stay quiet as Spencer stood by his side, his hand reaching down his arm to hold as they both watched.
“La Mer,” Colleen let out. “Jesus, what?”
“Macallan,” Mr Grant scoffed in a loss of words.
“Chanel, oh, sweetie,” Mrs Grant said, looking to Spencer and Gio.
Spencer looked to Gio, he didn’t look back. He pulled on his hand slightly. “You didn’t—” he mumbled, “—say they were—this.”
“Bloody hell,” Jack chuckled, weighing the bottle of cologne in his hand. “Feeling flush?”
Gio shrugged, finally looking down at Spencer, his eyes appearing light pink. “This is what Christmas is about.”
“Thanks you two,” Tina let out. “I love it.” She held a perfume, admiring it.
Spencer smiled, tugging at Gio’s hand. “One minute,” he said, pulling him away.
“They’re happy,” he whispered in Spencer’s ear.
“This is too much.”
“Everyone’s happy,” he replied, “this is what I like about Christmas, look at them.”
Spencer looked back into the living room. They were happy, smiling, their faces glowing. “I—I—” he turned as Gio planted a kiss on his lips.
“Come on you—” Mrs Grant began. “Oops.” She chuckled as Gio and Spencer froze in a kiss.
The rest of the family gave out their gifts, mostly alcohol-based gifts, as it was the one thing the Grant family knew. Spencer still hated to receive the gifts, but as he sat on Gio’s lap, holding his hand, he was falling into loving the moment.
Mr and Mrs Grant returned, and Colleen sat biding her time for the perfect moment to ask if anyone else was thirsty. Tina and Jack sat on the couch beside the single seater with Gio and Spencer.
“How did you two meet then?” Tina asked, pawing at the arm of their chair.
“Well,” Gio began with a large smile. “You know Spencer, always in a mood, it took a while to get through to him, but we first met by accident.”
“Not always in a mood,” he grumbled, attempting to pull away.
Gio hooked an arm around Spencer, chuckling. “Always,” he said.
Tina and Jack found it funny.
“I’m not—”
“Hate to break it to you, but you are a bit on the serious side of life,” Colleen said, “speaking of, drinks, anyone?”
“Just a juice for me,” Tina said.
“I’ll wait for dinner,” Jack added.
“Small vodka,” Spencer said. “I’ll start with that.”
Gio’s grip grew firm. “I’ll take one too,” he said. “So, I met Spencer and he liked me first, actually, I overheard him. It took a while before I said anything.”
“Yeah, he only said he liked me last night.”
He snickered. “I don’t know what it is, I kinda tricked him into spending time with me at first, but then—”
“Then he wouldn’t leave alone,” he finished, reaching his hand, squeezing it.
“You know,” the grandmother coughed from the corner, “those homofellations have it good, don’t get bogged down with kids and the likes.”
“Gran,” Jack said.
“Homofellations,” Spencer chuckled back.
“That’s when you’re only gay for oral,” Gio whispered back.
Spencer turned in Gio’s lap to look at him. “That what you are?”
He clammed up at the question but was saved by a knock at the door.
“Helloooo,” a voice sang through the foyer. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it’s balmy in here.” Auntie Bev, divorced twice, no kids, but had a small French bulldog named Queenie, a dog dressed in a gilet as it grunted out and snorted with its nose pressed against the floor. “Come on, Queenie.”
“Merry Christmas,” Jack said at the sight of the woman with her hair curled tight on her head.
“Mum,” Spencer called out. “Auntie Bev is here.”
A clatter sounded out.
“Aww,” Tina said at the sight of the dog.
Spencer felt as Gio’s took a deep bre
ath. “Crazy won’t be far behind,” Spencer promised as Gio’s eyes lit up. “You ok?”
“I’m allergic,” he whispered, his eyes darting in the dog’s direction.
“Oh, my goodness, well, gorgeous, just gorgeous,” Bev squealed, her kitten heels pattering across the hardwood. “My little Spence, and you must be the new addition to the family.”
“Auntie,” Spencer said. “This is Giovanni.”
“His boyfriend,” Gio said.
“So special,” she gasped, her hand to her chest. “Are you in love?”
“Yes,” Gio said, pinching at Spencer. “I would die if he wasn’t in my life.”
“Dramatic,” Spencer grumbled. “Yes, so much love.”
Mrs Grant approached Bev, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Frank and Diane shouldn’t be far behind now,” she said.
“Oh, that’s right,” Bev said. “Frank is getting his things from the car, is my brother around?”
“In the den,” she said.
Jack and Spencer shared a look at the mention of their uncle. They knew Christmas dinner was about to get a dose of some niche speciality only their uncle could bring.
EIGHT
Frank arrived with his arm hooked around a case of beers. He was followed minutes later by Diane Carlson clinging to a large plastic bag of bottles, they clanged together as walked with a lean from the weight.
It became a show and tell as they arrived, surprised to see Spencer hadn’t been lying and there was in fact a mystery man. Although the truth of it was a lie, and if put together, they’d realise they’d been telling different stories whenever asked.
Mrs Grant’s sister, Diane, sat beside their mother as she docked out another cigarette in the tray and asked for the sixth time when she was going to be fed. Frank had joined his brother, Mr Grant in the den, where they both watched the sports news channel, their loud boisterous commentary overshadowing the television.
Beverly helped her sister-in-law in the kitchen as they added the finishing touches to the meal.
In the corner of the kitchen, trying to seem helpful, Gio and Spencer stood in each other’s company, hugged together as they exchanged whispers and watched as the small dog yapped.
“Are we having a drink?” Gio asked in a whisper, the words prickling at the hairs on Spencer’s neck.
“Yes, how else are we expected to make it through this,” he mumbled back.
“I thought we were driving back tonight,” he said.
Spencer pulled up his sleeve. “Well, it’s nearly two now,” he said. “We can drink a little, eat a lot, then drive back. You’ll be sober enough to drive.”
“I was thinking—” Gio let out with a breathy voice.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“We could stay another night,” he said. “And see—”
Spencer pulled away from Gio. “You’re scared to go back.”
“What? No.”
Mrs Grant and Bev turned to them, pausing to watch.
Spencer forced a smile as he walked out of the kitchen through the second reception area to the foyer, bypassing his sister and brother in the dining room. He waited at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, collecting himself in with a deep breath.
Giovanni appeared a moment later, his brows pinched at the bridge of his nose. “What?” he asked.
“We’re both pretending,” he said.
Gio shook his head. “I’m—”
“You are,” he said. “You’re touching me, making me feel weird—happy, and you want to stay here in this weird fantasy for another night. You’re pretending, and once we’re out of this, it’ll be weird and awkward and—” he let out another deep breath.
“Hold up, hold on.” Gio took Spencer’s hand. “I told you I liked you, and then—yes, at first, I liked it, the pretending to be your boyfriend thing because it was more pretending for you, and I just wanted to know what it felt like.”
Spencer smiled, his eyeline passing Giovanni’s head to his aunt and grandmother in a heated discussion in the living room.
“This whole thing,” Spencer said, lowering his voice. “You can’t just tell someone you like them. You can’t just have your level of confidence and make someone like me feel happy like this. Because I feel happy, around everyone. I’m happy.”
“And?”
“I’m worried it’s all a long con,” he said. “I’m worried you’ll be weird, but because you’re you, you’ll get over it and I’ll be playing mind games with myself over this small blip in time.”
Giovanni took Spencer’s other hand. “I would never go out of my way to purposely hurt you, you make my heart race, and the way you are cynical about everything makes me smile, even before I moved in, when we worked together, you had a way with words, the ad copy was so bipolar to the way you expressed yourself.”
“Well, I just wanted to fuck you,” Spencer said. “You actually really like me.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean, you like me.”
“I like other things too,” he snickered.
Spencer pulled away his hand, pressed in a fist, he stuck out his thumb. “You like Christmas, you like those linguine noodles, you like large only bought for restaurant tubs of pesto, and pineapple on pizza, you also like—”
“You’re just listing everything on my shelf in the fridge,” he said, pulling Spencer’s hand back into his. “I can do that too, chocolate, cheddar cheese, the strawberry mix pot yoghurts, but never the cherry ones because you always throw them out, and you love mayonnaise.”
“Wrong, it’s salad cream,” he said, “and it’s—”
Gio kissed him to prevent him from saying anything else.
“Dinner’s ready in five,” Mrs Grant called out, using her authoritarian teacher voice. “Get washed up and get seated.”
Gio was the first to pull away from the kiss, acknowledging the orders.
“Let’s just go upstairs and—” Spencer paused himself, sticking his tongue between his closing teeth. “No.”
“And what?”
“I want the first time to be special,” he said.
“Fine,” Gio said. “Me too. And we’ll go back to the flat tonight.”
Now, that was a happy thought. He was genuinely happy and before he could doubt himself or question the intention or integrity of his emotional state, he was rushed off into the downstairs bathroom to clean his hands before dinner.
The dining room was over the top, but it was the one day of the year when it could be dressed like it was entering a beauty pageant, except not the regal one, more of a social media best in show type.
Mrs Grant was a traditionalist when it came to Christmas dinner. In the centre was the turkey, already sliced, and not even half the full turkey that was cooked. The meats were the centrepiece, alongside the beef, they were surrounded by large ceramic dishes filled with side dishes; mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, peas and carrots, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, Yorkshire puddings, and the scene stealers, tiny sausages wrapped in streaky bacon, or pigs in a blanket. None of it was complete without the two large gravy boats filled with the thick brown Christmas dinner elixir.
The table had place settings for the eleven of them, with Mr Grant at the head of the table, Mrs Grant on his right. Spencer sat between his mother and Gio, followed along by Bev, and Frank at the end. Opposite Mrs Grant was Jack, then his fiancée, and Colleen, followed by the grandmother, and Diane at the end. It was fitting to have the two biggest drinkers opposite each other, staring each other down as they looked through the bottoms of their empty glasses.
“Do we say grace?” Gio asked as everyone began plating for themselves.
Spencer looked at him, shaking his head as he scooped mashed potatoes.
“We can,” Mrs Grant said.
“Pass the gravy,” Mr Grant let out as he passed a burp through the side of his mouth, “please.”
There was no rhyme or rhythm to the way people helped themselves, it was ordered cha
os, each of them scooping, reaching over, grabbing at the large puffed up Yorkshire puddings.
“In Italy, they do courses,” Gio said with a wide smile, scooping food to his plate. “I think I’ll be in the gym every day until New Year’s Eve.”
“You two have plans?” Mrs Grant asked over the sound of food being slapped down.
Spencer looked to Gio. “Do we?”
“Yeah,” Gio said. “We’re going to a party.”
“Yes, a party,” he said. “I love parties, with lots of people, people that we both know.”
“We’ll talk about it,” he chuckled back.
“Sounds lovely,” she replied. “Everyone ready, I think Gio wants to say grace.”
“I do?”
“You said so,” she chuckled.
Gio stood. “I’ve never said grace before,” he offered with a grinning smile. “But, while I’m here, I want to thank you all for welcoming me into your home. Bless this food, this drink, and bless us with another great year to come.” He looked to Spencer’s smiling face. “And thank you for giving us people to love.”
Spencer looked away. That’s not what he expected to come out of his mouth.
“Let’s raise our glasses,” Mrs Grant said, “so, make sure they’re filled.”
“Actually,” Jack said, standing as Gio sat down. “Tina and I have something to say. You might have noticed, but Tina isn’t drinking. We’re pregnant.”
“Whoo!” Colleen called out, raising her class. “Pushing back the wedding then?”
Before Jack could be seated, he nodding back to his sister. “We’re actually getting married sooner, that was—going to be—uh, announced after the New Year.”
After the announcements and everyone started to eat, Spencer paused to tug at Gio’s sleeve. He’d only managed to get through a couple of bites before the need to seek an answer came back to the forefront of his mind and mouth.
“Love,” he said in a whisper.
“What?”
“People to love.”
Gio smirked. “Yeah, just a saying.”
“Ok, ok,” he let out a panicked breath, picking up his fork from the side of the plate. “I mean, that’s what I thought, but you said love.”
