by Jay Bell
“Housewarming present,” he said, thrusting out the potted plant. “A few months late.” He glanced over Caesar’s shoulder at a cramped and disorganized room. “I see I was right to buy the smallest plant possible.”
“Yeah,” Caesar said, standing sideways to offer a better view. “My dad calls this the authentic Yale experience, which means slumming it here like he did.”
“Roommate and all,” Nathaniel murmured. “My how the tables have turned. I don’t suppose he’s a sour old Korean man?”
“Chain-smoking head-banger,” Caesar said. “He just went out to buy more cigarettes.”
“How long do you think he’ll be?”
“Five minutes?”
Nathaniel leaned forward and said in a husky whisper, “I probably won’t last longer than three.”
Caesar’s face registered surprise, then hunger. “Me neither. I haven’t… not since you.”
That’s all Nathaniel needed to hear. He stepped forward. Caesar moved backward. Once inside the room he shut the door, glanced around for a clear surface for the plant, and gave up. Instead he set it on the floor. “You have a tie you can hang on the doorknob?”
“Yeah,” Caesar said, kicking at one of the piles of laundry. “Uh, where did I see it last?”
Nathaniel sighed, grabbed one of the small dressers and lifted it, setting it in front of the door.
“Okay,” Caesar began. “That should—”
Whatever else he had to say was cut short by Nathaniel’s kiss. After a moment of gentle passion, they scrambled at each other’s clothes, only unzipping or unbuttoning enough to gain access to what they needed most. They lasted longer than three minutes, but not by much. They had just finished when the door banged against the dresser, followed by an irritated knock.
“I don’t suppose you have more privacy at your place?” Caesar asked, redoing his jeans.
Nathaniel checked his appearance in a small mirror, wiped at his mouth, and turned around. “Come see for yourself.”
A few minutes later, after a very awkward introduction to Caesar’s roommate, they were in Nathaniel’s car, whizzing past old Yale buildings and onto the highway.
“You live off campus?” Caesar said, already sounding envious.
“Rebecca insisted. One of her roommates stole money from her the first year, the next she found someone’s naked boyfriend passed out in her bed.”
“And that was a problem?”
“He barfed before passing out. All over himself and the sheets.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah.” Nathaniel hit the turn signal and veered toward an exit. “Her parents agreed to help her get an apartment, so they pay for half.”
“And you pay for the other. Did you get a job or something?”
“No. My parents are paying my half.” His father had insisted. True to his word, he kept up with the counseling sessions, and from what Nathaniel’s mother said, those had worked wonders for their relationship. Nathaniel had spoken with the therapist on the phone to verify this and had grudgingly agreed to a family session some day. In the meantime, a tentative peace had been made. Part of him still resented what Heath had done; the rest still loved him as a parent.
“Man, the tables really have turned.” Caesar’s tones were playful. “I never thought I’d see you mooching off your parents.”
“Don’t make me turn this car around! So how are you holding up? The first semester is rough, huh?”
“Is it that obvious?” Caesar flipped down the visor to check himself in the mirror. Then he sighed and flipped it up again. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. Sometimes in class, it’s like the teachers are speaking another language. In at least one class the teacher really is. I think.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, man. My grades are pretty dire. If I don’t pull it together for finals…”
Nathaniel glanced over at him. “That bad?”
Caesar nodded glumly. “Yeah.” Then he perked up. “Maybe you could tutor me! We’re starting over, right? Let’s go back to the beginning.”
“I need all my energy to keep up with my own studies,” Nathaniel said. “Sorry.”
“I figured.” Caesar slid a hand over to take his. Then he squeezed. “It’s good to see you again.”
Nathaniel grinned, keeping his eyes on the road as he turned left into a dingy apartment complex. It wasn’t much, but compared to the dorms, it was pure luxury. “You’ll do fine,” he said. “You just need to slow down and let yourself recharge.”
“You probably shouldn’t invite me in,” Caesar said. “Once you do, there’s no way you’ll get me back to that dorm.”
“You’re not living here.” Nathaniel parked and unbuckled his seatbelt. “If you promise to behave, I might let you spend the night. Come on.”
They had a basement apartment, the windows small and high. Rebecca often complained about the limited light. He preferred it, since the gloom was better for watching movies. He showed off his home theater to Caesar as he gave a tour. The plasma television’s picture was becoming diffused with age and the surround sound system consisted of mismatched speakers from thrift store stereos, but at least the couch was nice because he and Rebecca had invested in a new one. The kitchen was fully equipped, even though neither of them really cooked, and their small bedrooms were on opposite sides of the living room, ensuring privacy.
“It’s so clean!” Caesar said, eying the bathroom longingly before Nathaniel flicked off the light. “You sure I can’t move in?”
“From what I’ve seen, you’d probably trash the place. What happened to your room?”
“We had a party the first week and never found time to clean up afterwards. At least the plastic cups are gone now, but only because someone was doing a study on mold cultures.”
Nathaniel grimaced. “And to think I just had my mouth all over you. Maybe you should take a shower.”
“Maybe you should join me.”
The front door opened before they could pursue this idea. Rebecca came in, carrying a twelve-pack of Coke. She noticed Caesar right away and was gracious about his presence. Of course she had fair warning. Nathaniel had claimed his sole purpose in going over there was to drop off the plant and say hello, but she knew him better than that.
“I’ve got caffeinated sugar,” she offered. “Perfect cure for freshman fatigue.”
“It is obvious!” Caesar groaned. “How old do I look? Forty? Fifty?”
Rebecca laughed. “You look fine. It’s a given, that’s all. I’ve got more carbs in the car if you want to help me carry them in. You don’t have to worry about putting on weight. The constant anxiety burns more calories than you’d think.”
Caesar went to help her. Nathaniel joined them, but only after pausing for an ‘aha!’ moment. Problem, meet your solution! Once they were back inside and putting plastic bags on the kitchen counter, he casually said, “You’ll get used to the grind soon enough. Just look at Rebecca. She has a near-perfect GPA and still manages extracurricular activities, such as the, uh… what’s that crazy long title again?”
“The Residential College Math and Science Tutoring Program,” Rebecca said proudly.
Nathaniel nodded. “That’s the one. Too bad they couldn’t work in a catchy acronym somehow.”
“Wait,” Caesar said, looking hopefully to Rebecca. “You’re a tutor?”
“Yes.” Rebecca saw his desperation. “Oh. I already have a full allotment of pupils.”
“Officially,” Nathaniel said helpfully. She shot him a glare that he combated with his best puppy-dog eyes. “Just a little help to get him through his first finals. You remember how terrifying those were.”
“Fine,” she said. “You’ll owe me! Both of you. What can you offer in return? What are your talents?”
“I’m good at wrestling,” Caesar said, clearly grasping.
“I’m just easy on the eyes,” Nathaniel said, flexing his pecs.
Nathaniel and Caesar exchanged a heated glance. Then Nathaniel nodded. “I think that can be arranged.”
* * * * *
Christmas lights, enough to surround a house in a warm cozy glow and chase away the dark of winter, but these weren’t lining the roof. Nor were they in the yard, strapped to wooden cutouts of Santa and his reindeer. Nathaniel’s mother always chose instead to fill the interior of their home with lights of every color and variety. A string of elegant golden bulbs wove among the branches of the Christmas tree, reflecting off the glass ornaments. Flickering flames came from a group of scented candles on the coffee table. Clusters of colorful paper lanterns hung in each corner, while a net of tiny white lights draped the front window, like little snowflakes trapped in time.
And that was just the living room. Nathaniel sat on the couch, letting his eyes unfocus, creating a natural kaleidoscope. Then he breathed out a contented sigh. Christmas music played from the kitchen where his father worked on his famous gravy. His mother had rushed out after some forgotten necessity. Nathaniel was content to sit and do nothing. No college, no housekeeping, not even a boyfriend. He and Caesar were dating again, exclusively, and things were going well. Nathaniel still insisted they keep their distance over the holidays. Caesar had always claimed that the timing had been wrong, that they should have waited until they were in Connecticut. Maybe the environment in Houston was a contributing factor too, although as tranquil as Nathaniel felt now, that was hard to imagine.
The front door squeaked open.
“Hey! Look who it is!”
Nathaniel tensed at the sound of his brother’s voice. They didn’t see each other often, and even then Nathaniel managed to keep his distance. He turned in his seat, surprised by Dwight’s dark beard that made his blue eyes more striking. Part of him wished that married life had given his brother a large belly or bags under his eyes, but he was still as handsome as ever.
“Hey, stranger!” Sheila was right behind her husband, a small bundle strapped to her chest.
Nathaniel gave a cordial nod before turning back around. Maybe he should help Dad in the kitchen. Or find out where his mother had gone and join her. Or hell, he could make a run for his room and barricade the door. Instead he forced himself to take a deep breath. His brother was standing in front of him, taking off his jacket while rambling on about the Yale Bulldogs and some game he had seen. Sheila was at his side, cheeks still red from the cold. She was smiling at him, approaching cautiously, holding out something small and squirming for him to take.
“Your nephew has been waiting a long time to meet you,” she said.
Nathaniel opened his arms, despite fearing he would drop or somehow break this delicate creature. Sheila helped him, showing him how to support the head. Nathaniel got the baby settled in the crook of his arm. The kid had his brother’s eyes, but his sparse hair was a much lighter shade than Dwight’s. Nathaniel had seen plenty of photos already. Sheila sent him emails all the time, and while he glanced at the pictures she sent, they had never made much impact. Now, holding the child in his arms, feeling the soft skin, a tiny hand wrapping around one of his fingers, he finally understood.
“Hey there,” he managed.
Sheila sat next to him, bending over her son. “Do you know who this is, Arthur? That’s your Uncle Nate! Yes it is!”
“Nathaniel,” he corrected automatically, already knowing it was hopeless. “He’s ridiculously tiny.”
“He’ll be a big guy,” Dwight said, sounding self-assured. “A real scrapper. Runs in the family, right?” Nathaniel wasn’t sure if that was a reference to their past, but his brother didn’t seem too interested in him. Instead he was looking around. “Where’s Dad?”
“In the kitchen.”
Dwight went to find him, leaving them alone. Nathaniel tried talking to the baby more, but of course got no response. Then Arthur started crying, at which point he was handed back to his mother.
“Always hungry,” she said, reaching for the buttons of her sweater. “Um, would it bother you if…”
“No!” he said hurriedly. “Wait, do you want me to turn around? I can leave the room.”
“Only if you want,” Sheila said easily. “Some people have a problem with breastfeeding, so I tend to ask. Not that I care about the answer.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “Go for it. What could be more natural? Hell, I might have a little for him if you’re running low.” He squeezed at one of his pecs, and she laughed. “So did you choose the name?”
“Your brother did. Why?”
“It’s just… Uh.”
“Nerdy like an aardvark in glasses? I know, but when you grow up with a name like Dwight, I suppose you lose perspective.” She adjusted the baby so he’d be more comfortable. “I like to think of him as a little king.”
“When he gets old enough,” Nathaniel said, “I’ll have to make him a pint-sized version of Excalibur.”
He glanced down at Arthur and noticed again how small and frail he was. An old fear stirred in his stomach. “How are you and Dwight doing?”
“Fine. Starting out is never easy and babies are expensive, so money is tight. We manage. Your parents have been wonderful, thank goodness, because mine are useless.”
“Oh. Is that where you just came from?”
“No!” Sheila laughed humorlessly. “Hanging out in a smoky bar isn’t my idea of a pleasant Christmas Eve. They’ll probably still be there in the morning too.”
Nathaniel felt uncomfortable with her candor, but he supposed they were family now. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I got used to it while growing up, but not enough to accept their lifestyle as normal. Or acceptable. How’s college?”
“Stressful,” he answered distractedly. “So you and Dwight are getting along okay?”
“Yes! You’re obsessed.” Sheila cocked her head. “You asked something similar at our wedding.”
He shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. “Just looking after my sister-in-law. My brother can be a pain in the butt sometimes.”
She continued watching him, as if he was being transparent. “I know he was rough on you when you were little. He told me.”
Nathaniel clenched his jaw a few times. “Yeah?”
“Yes. And he regrets it. Give him a chance. You’d be surprised how much he’s grown up. Even in just the last year.”
Nathaniel looked toward the kitchen. His father had once asked him for a second chance. Nathaniel had given it grudgingly, but it seemed to have paid off. His parents’ relationship was better now. Maybe he could do the same for his brother.
The front door opened again. His mother came in looking disheveled. “Three different stores were out of eggnog!” she declared. She held up a carton. “And I made it four!”
Nathaniel and Sheila laughed together. Heath appeared from the kitchen with his son in tow, and the evening became a whirl of noisy conversation and abundant food. Nathaniel struggled to remember the last time they felt like a real family. Tonight they could have had their own sitcom on television—the innocuous adventures of a picture-perfect family enjoying the holidays together.
This made him long for Caesar. Everything was going so well that maybe holiday magic would be enough to keep their relationship safe, even in this old battleground. As the evening wore on, Sheila retired with the baby. Then his mother and father. Although Nathaniel never would have let it happen before, he found himself alone on the couch with his brother, each of them taking swigs of beer while watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.
“I swear I have every single line of this movie memorized,” Dwight said, proving it by speaking aloud with Cousin Eddie.
Nathaniel tried doing the same for the next, botching it and causing them both to laugh. “I guess I’m rusty,” he said. They snorted again, because the line he had gotten wrong belonged to a character na
med Rusty.
They finished their beers at the same time, like synchronized drinkers. Dwight swiped Nathaniel’s empty bottle and stood. “Another round?”
“Yeah, okay.” He ignored the television, watching his brother leave the room. People could change. He just never thought it would happen. Sheila must be a miracle-worker.
Dwight returned with two cold bottles, handing him one and toppling onto the couch. They focused on the screen until the movie reached one of the boring heartwarming scenes.
“It’s really cool that you’re making something of yourself,” Dwight said. “Mom can’t shut up about it.”
A warning light went off in his head, but Nathaniel told himself he didn’t need it anymore. “I’m just studying. Look at you! Family man! Supporting your wife and son.”
“Sheila earns more than I do,” Dwight said, “which makes maternity leave a fucking nightmare. I told her it would be smarter if I stayed home to take care of the kid.”
“I really like him,” Nathaniel said, trying to steer the conversation toward the positive. “Arthur’s going to be an amazing man. I can tell.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
Dwight put an arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, but with the couch in the way, it ended up more around his neck. He pulled Nathaniel closer, squeezing tightly, which wasn’t very comfortable. He ended by roughing up his hair and patting him on the side of the head. None of this was gentle, but they were guys and they had been drinking. Nathaniel took another swig, then another, knowing the credits were close and wishing they would hurry the fuck up. The moment they rolled, he stood.
“I’m going to crash. You should too if you want Santa to show up.”
Dwight didn’t laugh. He just looked at Nathaniel as if he were being stupid, which he supposed he was for still standing there. He raised his beer, mumbled good night, and headed for his room. Once inside it, he locked the door. Then he sat on his bed, telling himself not to worry. It wasn’t necessary. Nothing had happened. Just a rough but affectionate gesture. Right? He made sure the door was locked, despite being certain. Then he turned off the light and got beneath the covers, still wearing his jeans and T-shirt. He lay facing the door, listening to the sounds of the house. Occasionally his eyes would start to close, but he’d feel a jolt of fear again and they would open wide.
