by John, Ashley
“Let’s go inside,” Ben sighed, his heart heavy, “there’s lots to explain.”
When they were back in the cabin, it felt like a palace compared to the cabin Ben had spent Christmas in. It was warm, well lit and packed with modern technology. Even with all of that, it felt empty and lacking.
Ben started at the beginning. He explained the crash on the ski slopes, the second chance meeting and the visit to Cal’s cabin, which resulted in them spending Christmas together.
“That all sounds a little, gay,” Jonny sipped his coffee, “what did you do?”
When Ben didn’t reply straight away, Jonny’s eyes widened, almost popping out of his skull. He choked on his coffee, spitting it back into the cup. Ben hid his face behind his own cup of coffee, unable to look his friend in the eyes.
Ben saw the penny drop in Jonny’s mind. He was probably putting all the pieces of the jigsaw together. It wasn’t like Ben had ever tried to hide the pieces; in fact, they had been lying around for all to see for so long.
“You’re gay, aren’t you?” Jonny leaned in.
“Jonny, I-,”
“You always have been, that’s why – oh my God – that’s why you never like these girls that I hook you up with. It’s not them, because let’s face it, I have impeccable taste, it’s you. You’re – you’re gay.”
Hearing those words coming from Jonny’s mouth made Ben squirm. He could deny it, but there was no way he could lie about how he had spent Christmas. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops so he could cherish it forever. It wasn’t something he wanted to hide.
“Is that a problem?” Ben mumbled.
Jonny sat back in his chair, placing his coffee on the small side table. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked darkly at Ben. It was a way Jonny had never looked at Ben before and it made him crave for the old joker to return. If Jonny was about to cast him aside, he was about to lose his only real friend.
“I thought you knew me better than that,” Jonny sighed.
And just like that, the tension melted away. Ben relaxed a little and suddenly felt stupid for keeping it a secret for so long. Jonny had never expressed an opinion on ‘gay’, negative or positive. It had made things difficult to judge, especially because they came from different worlds and backgrounds. Ben didn’t go to Oxford in the closet because he had come out to his whole family when he was fifteen after not being able to explain away the Internet browsing history on his old PC.
“So,” Ben sipped his coffee, eyes planted on the hearthrug, which was only reminding him about how much time he had spent on Cal’s hearthrug, “you don’t hate me?”
“How could I ever hate you,” Jonny laughed and he leaned forward, leaning his arms on his knees, “hang on, why have you never tried it on with me? I’m hot. Shit, am I not gay hot? Is that what it is? Is that a thing?”
Ben laughed, glad that his old friend was back. He assured Jonny that he was hot, Ben just didn’t look at him like that. He decided to leave off that he was really looking whenever Jonny walked around naked. Ben wondered if that was going to stop, but he didn’t mind. He would trade a couple of glances at his friend’s soft cock for openness and honesty.
“Does this mean you’re not a virgin anymore? You spent days locked up with this dude. I bet you were at it like rabbits.”
Ben’s cheeks blushed and his heart skipped a beat. Hearing Jonny talk about it like that devalued what had happened. Cal’s face appeared in his mind and he wanted him to be there with him.
‘I’m not good at goodbyes’.
When the shock of the situation wore off and their coffees were drained, they headed out to the slopes. Jonny told Ben all about the disgusting things he had done with Louise, going into more graphic detail about his own penis than usual. Ben wondered if this was because he was gay or if Jonny, like Ben, had had the best Christmas of his life.
They went to the gentler slopes and Ben found that he wasn’t as bad at skiing the second time. Jonny didn’t push the ‘gay thing’, he just treated Ben like he usually did. A weight lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t so mad about spending a couple of hours on the slopes, just so he had some real skiing stories to go home with. His mum would be disappointed if all he had to talk about was his exploits with an American in a cabin.
Ben spent the afternoon hoping that Cal would crash into him again, but he knew lightning wouldn’t strike twice. When they were finished on the slopes, he hoped to see Cal in the Après Ski Bar, but he wasn’t there. Louise met up with them and Jonny revelled in telling her everything that Ben and Cal had been up to. To Ben’s surprise, she seemed shocked.
“Cal isn’t that type of guy!” she laughed, “He’s never really had a boyfriend or anything. Not that he’s told me of at least.”
Ben wanted to correct her because they weren’t boyfriends, but he kept quiet. He didn’t want it to be over like that. The thought that he was leaving was hard enough so he didn’t want to think about cutting that connection with Cal.
That night in his own bed, long after Jonny was asleep in the next room, he clung onto the biggest pillow he could find, trying to find sleep.
It wasn’t a replacement for Cal’s warmth.
It didn’t even come close.
Ben wasn’t sure anything ever would.
When he saw the icy sky starting to lighten, he sighed and sat up in bed, the air chilly. The book Cal had given him sat on his nightstand, untouched since returning to the real world. He picked it up and flicked through the pages.
Ben imagined Mary reading the book decades ago and scribbling down her thoughts. He had always found comfort in the smell of books, especially old ones. This one had an extra comfort, because it reminded him of Cal.
He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better, or worse. Each page turned over slowly, the old spine creaking under the weight of still being used after over eighty years. A small folded note fluttered out and fell to the ground. Thinking it was something Cal’s mother had put in there, he quickly scooped it up and pushed it back into the book but the paper felt new and familiar under his touch. He turned it over and he instantly recognised the handwriting.
“A sex coupon,” he laughed to himself, feeling tears in the back of his sleepy mind wanting to move forward.
This one was different from the rest. It had a small footnote in much smaller handwriting underneath the two large words. Ben blinked slowly, not sure if he wanted to read it.
‘Expiration date – never. See you soon, Ben’.
Reading it over and over, Ben let its meaning sink in. He slid the note into the book and quickly showered and dressed. It was the first time wearing fresh clothes since leaving the day before Christmas Eve. He heard movement in Jonny’s room, so he quickly stuffed his feet into his snow boots and scribbled his own note on a piece of paper next to the phone on the kitchen counter. He stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket and headed for the front door, passing the suitcases that were waiting for the taxi to pick them up at ten. Ben didn’t check the time but he knew he had to do what he was about to do.
Not caring about slipping on the ice under the snow, he ran as quickly as he dared down the hill and into the tiny town square. He tried to remember the exact direction he needed to go to get to Cal’s cabin, but his mind emptied. He spun around on the spot, the snow topped shops, cafes and bars blurring into one. Forests and hills surrounded them, not giving him any clues. He heard a bell ring and a man appeared in its door, propping a board outside. He turned the sign in the door from ‘FERMÉ’ to ‘OUVERT’.
For a second Ben just stared at the stranger, no idea what he was doing there. The guy, presumably French, stared back for a brief moment before frowning and slipping back inside. He almost started heading in a random direction, hoping if seeing the trees would jog his memory but a light bulb suddenly flicked above his head.
Turning back to the door he had just seen the man open and close, he recognised it as the Après Ski Bar. He knew that part wasn�
�t important but he remembered a girl, the French cloakroom assistant. Cal knew her. Ben couldn’t remember her name, nor did he even know if she would be working, but it was his only shot.
The bar was eerily quiet and empty. The fire was already roaring in the fireplace and a TV behind the bar was playing French news.
“Hello?” Ben called over the bar, hoping to see the guy who had put the sign out, “Bonjour?”
The French didn’t sound right on his tongue. Cal would probably have said it so artistically that nobody would have suspected that he was American.
“Hello?”
The voice didn’t belong to a man, it belonged to a woman, a French woman. She appeared in the doorway to the toilets, a heavy mop in her hand and weighty bags under her eyes. She looked as tired as Ben felt and he wondered if she had even been to sleep after her shift in the bar the night before. Ben imagined that on Christmas night, the bar would be packed with every single tourist the resort could hold.
“You probably don’t remember me, but I was in here a couple of days ago, with a friend, Cal. You know him?”
“I know Cal,” she nodded, “he’s out back.”
“Out back?”
“Some German idiot stuffed a whole roll of toilet paper down the u-bend and it’s blocked up the pipes. He’s out there fixing them.”
Before she could say anything else, Ben headed straight through the nearest door and out into the cold. There was a small smoking area behind the bar and it overlooked the slopes, which were already starting to fill up with early morning enthusiasts.
The cold bit at Ben’s face and he wished he had asked more before rushing outside.
“Ben?”
The familiar American voice burned through his body, forcing a smile to spread across his tired features. He turned around, but it wasn’t Cal. Nobody was there. He chalked it up to the lack of sleep. Even his mind was turning against him, torturing him with the happy memories.
“Ben, up here,” he wasn’t imagining it.
Looking up, he saw Cal sitting on the edge of the roof, a length of pipe in one hand. His snow-covered boots were resting on a ladder.
“Cal,” Ben smiled.
Ditching the pipe on the snowy roof, he quickly descended the ladder, missing the last couple of steps to jump onto the soft snow in front of Ben. His smile was warm, if not a little confused. Ben didn’t know what to do, so he wrapped his arms around Cal’s neck and pulled him in. It felt foolish to have missed him that much in what couldn’t have been more than twelve hours, but he had.
Those twelve hours had felt like the twelve days of Christmas, waiting and praying that he could see Santa at the end of them.
“What are you doing here,” Cal pulled away from the hug, “I thought you were leaving today?”
“I was,” Ben nodded, “I mean, I am. I just needed to see you. I know you don’t like goodbyes but -,”
“You don’t have to say goodbye.”
“I’m not,” Ben shook his head and reached into his pocket, “I mean, not really.”
With shaking hands, he held out the piece of paper to Cal, his contact details on them. He had hastily written down as many ways to contact him as he could think of, including his home address in Manchester.
“You didn’t have to,” Cal smiled, folding up the paper and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket.
Ben’s stomach knotted and he suddenly wondered if the lack of sleep was making him see things differently. Had their time in the cabin been time that was never to be repeated or spoken about? Even if his sleepy mind was playing tricks on him, he knew what he had experienced and he knew how Cal had treated him.
“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down at the ground, unsure of what to say.
“I mean, you didn’t have to, because -,” he pulled a different piece of paper from his other pocket, “ – I called in a couple of favours at the booking office and got them to break countless laws but -,”
Cal’s gloved fingers opened the paper, holding it out for Ben to read. It had less information than Ben’s piece of paper. Eleven single digits had been scrawled in Cal’s artistic handwriting. Not only did he recognise the handwriting but he also recognised the numbers.
“My phone number,” Ben nodded.
“I was going to call you the second you landed in England, I just -,” he shook his head and now it was Cal’s turn to look at the ground, “I didn’t want to make things harder on this side. I had such fun with you and I didn’t want it to be over. I didn’t want to believe you wouldn’t be waiting for me at the cabin when I finished with work.”
“I don’t want it to be over,” Ben’s heart hurt.
“It’s not,” Cal pulled off a glove, cupping Ben’s cheek in his warm hand, “you’ll see me again.”
It didn’t sound like a throw away comment, it sounded like a promise. Ben didn’t want to just trust his own ears, so he had to ask.
“Do you promise?”
Cal smiled, the corners of his lips creasing the sides of his eyes. He leaned in, resting his lips softly on Ben’s. Flecks of snow in his beard tickled Ben’s chin.
“How could I not promise that?” Cal pulled away, leaning his head on Ben’s forehead, “You have to go back to Oxford to study and I travel, that’s what I do, but our paths will cross again.”
“Do you mean that?” Ben couldn’t help himself.
“Our time in the cabin means a great deal to me, Ben,” Cal nodded with a smile, “but I’m not willing for that to be where our story ends.”
Ben kissed him again, this time wrapping his hands around Cal’s neck. He stepped away and almost said ‘goodbye’ but he remembered what Cal had said about goodbyes.
“See you soon, Cal.”
Cal laughed and smiled, he pulled the piece of paper that Ben had given him out of his pocket and held it up, “See you soon.”
Ben turned and headed back through the bar. This time, he wasn’t scared about saying goodbye, because Cal was right about it not being the end. He didn’t know how he knew that and he didn’t truly know if he could trust Cal, but somewhere deep within, it felt like a promise Cal wouldn’t try to break.
“Dude, again?” Jonny jumped up from the sofa, fully dressed, “The taxi will be here in about four minutes. Are you trying to kill me here?”
“Sorry. I had something I needed to do. Ready to go?”
“Yeah, but you left something in your room,” Jonny picked up Cal’s mom’s book and passed it to him, “Oh, and this fell out. What the hell is a sex coupon?”
“Long story,” Ben tucked the book into the front pocket of his suitcase, “but it’s not one I’m going to forget anytime soon.”
Ben collapsed onto the couch, stuffed from his mother’s turkey and a little drunk from the Christmas cake, which he was sure had more brandy in it than usual. His fourteen-year-old sister was sitting in the corner, a paper hat tilted on her blonde head and the new phone their dad bought her jammed under her thumbs. The sound of his mum washing up the dishes in the kitchen made him roll his eyes, because she could never just leave it until the next day.
A Christmas special of a popular sitcom was on the TV but Ben wasn’t paying much attention. He pulled out his phone, looking to see if there was a text from Cal. It had been a whole year since he had seen him but they had stayed in regular contact. All of the phone calls, emails and texts in the world didn’t make up for actually seeing him. They had tried to Skype a couple of times but without much success. Cal was trekking across India with a couple of people he had met in Belgium and he seemed to be having the time of his life.
Ben would have given anything to be by his side but real life had gotten in the way. He said goodbye to Oxford in June and moved back to his parents’ three bedroom semi-detached with his English Literature degree firmly under his arm. Jonny moved back to Cambridge, where he quickly secured a job in his father’s law firm. They stayed in contact through social media and Jonny had been down to visit him a couple of tim
es, but it wasn’t the same as when he had lived with him.
For Ben, that was followed up by months of unemployment and the realisation that he may have wasted his life and obtained a healthy student loan, all for nothing. Eventually, he had found a job in a small publishing house, proofreading people’s books. He was good at it, but his heart wasn’t there. He wanted to write the books, instead of reading them, but he knew he needed to live first to have something to write about. He couldn’t count how many times he had tried to put into words his Christmas in the cabin but he had never been able to do it justice.
His dad collapsed on the sofa next to him, smelling of smoke from his annual Christmas cigar, which his mum made him smoke in the back garden, regardless of the falling snow.
“What’s this on TV?” his dad asked.
“I’m not really watching,” Ben shrugged, “I think Nan’s watching it.”
“Nan doesn’t know what day it is,” his dad grumbled, reaching out for the remote.
Christmas was probably the one day of year that he couldn’t ask ‘is the football on’. Nan mumbled something in her chair next to the fire but not loud enough for his dad to hear. A tray of mince pies made their way around the living room and his mum finally joined them, sweat dripping down her face and her cheeks flushed.
“Is everybody okay for drinks, food?” she panted.
“Get me a beer, love,” his dad said, without looking away from the TV guide.
“I’ll get it,” Ben stood and headed into the kitchen.
It was a Christmas like every other but it had lost its sparkle. He wondered, if at twenty-three, he had finally lost the excitement but he knew it was more than that. He had experienced a Christmas so great, he doubted he could ever top it, no matter how many hoops his mother tried to jump through. She had pulled the day off without a hitch, but instead of enjoying the fruits of her labour, he felt sorry for her that she felt like she needed to work so hard every single year. He wanted to tell her that they didn’t need all of the presents and food to have a great Christmas. He had experienced that for himself.
