The Seven Days of Christmas

by Edward Kendrick

  “That’s in the past,” Marty said firmly. “And in case no one’s told you, you have to turn the key to start the car, then back out of the parking space and get on the street if we’re going to go downtown. At least that’s how it works for me.”

  Trey laughed, did as Marty had teased, and soon they were on their way. Four blocks later, Trey grumbled, “We should have left the car and walked, like sane people. Parking isn’t happening, today.”

  “Right there.” Marty pointed to a car pulling out of a space in a small lot half a block ahead of them.

  Trey beat out another driver with the same idea, grinning when the man flipped him off. “You snooze, you lose.”

  When they were on the sidewalk, Trey asked, “Where do we want to eat, presuming we can get into a restaurant without waiting an hour to be seated?”

  A logical presumption, Marty figured, as the area was crowded with pedestrians bent on last minute Christmas shopping. “How about we kill two birds with one stone,” he suggested. “The Christmas Mart has food booths, as well as the ones selling decorations and what have you.”

  Trey agreed that was a good idea, so they walked down two blocks to the plaza where it was being held. They found a booth that had bratwurst, stood in line for ten minutes—which as Marty pointed out was still shorter than waiting at a restaurant—and got two brats each, plus German potato salad and sodas. Juggling their food as they ate, to avoid unaware people’s elbows, they wandered from booth to booth.

  “I’m sure you don’t have a tree,” Marty said while looking at decorations in one booth. “And you probably don’t have anything Christmassy on your shelves, or whatever.”

  “Nope,” Trey admitted with a rueful smile.

  “Do you like this?” Marty picked up a box which held three hand-carved carolers standing around a lamppost, handing it to Trey.

  “They’re wonderful,” Trey said, taking one of them out to examine it closely.

  “Good. They’re yours.” Marty quickly handed the seller his credit card before Trey could protest, which he did, anyway. “What?” Marty replied. “You like them, you need something that says ‘Christmas’ but not too much, if you know what I mean, and I want you to have them. So, shush.”

  Trey bit his lip, nodded, and said, “You pick something you like, too. Okay?”

  “We’ll see.” Marty took the box back to give to the seller so he could put it in a gift bag, and then handed it to Trey.

  “Thank you,” Trey said, giving Marty a swift hug. “They’ll go on my bookshelf, since I don’t have a fireplace with a mantel.” He chuckled. “Or without one.”

  They continued wandering, checking out other booths. Marty stopped at one, eyeing a blown-glass Santa dressed in Mardi Gras colors. “I saw one like this when I was in New Orleans a couple of years ago and almost bought it.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Trey asked.

  Marty shrugged. “I’d already spent more than I should have.”

  “But you wanted it.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Then it’s yours, and do not argue. Consider it tit-for-tat.” Trey corralled the guy running the booth, pointed to the ornament, and asked him to box it up. He did, Trey paid for it, and then handed it to Marty, saying, “Merry Christmas.”

  “You didn’t have to…”

  “Get it for you?”

  “No.” Marty grinned. “Say the dreaded words.”

  “You know,” Trey replied seriously as they moved on. “A year ago I couldn’t, wouldn’t have. Now? Yeah, I’m fine with them because I have someone to say them to who won’t betray me because I care.”

  “I never will,” Marty vowed. Cautiously, he put his arm around Trey’s shoulders, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away.

  Trey looked at him for a long moment. “I believe you,” he said softly.

  “Good, because I mean it.” Marty released his hold, taking Trey’s hand instead, and said, “Let’s get some roasted chestnuts and then check out store windows before you have to take me home so I can get ready for work.”

  “Too bad you can’t skip work.”

  “Tell me about it. It’ll be crazy with people who want to have a good time with their friends before having to spend tomorrow on their best behavior with their families.”

  “Cynic,” Trey said.

  “Truth. Trust me on that.” Marty stopped by the man selling the chestnuts, bought a large bag of them, and then he and Trey shared them as they strolled down the street, commenting on the decorations in various windows. Reluctantly, he finally said, “I do have to go home.”

  * * * *

  When they got to Marty’s building, Trey told him he’d wait and take him to the bar. “Or come back, if you’re planning on showering and all that.”

  “Nope. I have to change shirts and shoes is all. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. You can come up if you want. Of course if you do, I may decide to call in sick.” He winked, got out of the car, and said he’d be back in a flash—which he was.

  Trey got him to the bar with a few minutes to spare, and promised he’d come back later to take him home. Marty put the kibosh on that. “It’ll be after two. I can catch a ride with one of the guys, or cab it home.” Trey accepted that, gave him a fast hug before he got out of the car, and was about to drive away when Marty opened the door again, saying, “Call me around ten, tomorrow, so we can figure out what time you should pick me up, okay? And no, I am not telling you what we’re doing. You’ll find out when the time comes and not before.” He laughed when Trey pouted and called him a tease. “I am, I’ll admit it,” Marty said before closing the door again.

  He watched until Trey was out of sight before going inside. I am getting more and more attached to him every time we’re together. I hope to hell he feels the same. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow—if he doesn’t kill me first.

  Chapter 7

  Christmas Day

  Trey woke up at eight with his normal Christmas morning depression—until he remembered he’d be with Marty for the day. Doing what? He had no clue. Marty had refused to tell him what he had planned. Trey wasn’t too worried. Whatever it was, he knew it would be fun.

  He got up, showered and shaved, and decided that good jeans and a nice shirt would be his best clothing option. Unless he’s planning on our going to some fancy restaurant, which he’d better not be. Then, as per usual for the past three Christmas’s, he opened the gifts from his family and then called to thank them and catch up on the latest news.

  On the dot of ten, he called Marty. “Are you awake and moving?” he asked.

  “Pretty much,” Marty replied. “Coffee’s brewing and when it’s done and I drink some, I’ll be human again.”

  Trey laughed. “Sounds like a good thing. What time should I pick you up?”

  “Give me twenty and I’ll be ready.”

  “I’m wearing jeans and a shirt. Is that okay?”

  “More than,” Marty replied. “This is a casual, well, date I suppose. At least that’s how I’m thinking of it.”

  “To somewhere you refuse to tell me about.” Trey chuckled. “Only you.”

  “I hope only me,” Marty responded, and Trey swore he could hear a smile in his voice.

  “Smartass,” Trey muttered. “Okay, we’d better hang up if I’m going to get to your place in time.”

  * * * *

  “Turn left at the next corner,” Marty said.

  “You’re sure?” Trey asked. “Are we taking a shortcut? It’s all homes.”

  Marty smiled, while mentally crossing his fingers. “You noticed, huh. Trust me; I know where we’re going.”

  It had been fifteen minutes since Trey had picked him up and they were at the southern edge of the city, an area of nice homes with a few small, well-kept malls and parks.

  With a shrug, Trey made the turn and then drove two blocks until Marty said, “Pull into the driveway of the house with the white picket fence.”

 
“Hang on a minute. What’s going on here?” Trey asked, frowning hard at Marty.

  Taking a deep breath, Marty replied, “We’re having Christmas dinner with my family. I knew if I told you ahead of time you’d back out.” He gripped Trey’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, I promise. They’ll love you and I hope you’ll like them.”

  Trey swallowed hard, looking at the house with its snow-covered lawn and the cleared flagstone paths from the sidewalk and the driveway to the front porch. “I’m not sure I can do this,” he said under his breath.

  “You can! I promise. I’ll be right by your side.”

  Trey stared out the windshield, shaking his head. “That’s where Dylan was supposed to be and you know how that turned out.”

  “Trey—” Marty touched the side of his face, urging Trey to look at him. When he did, Marty said, “I’m not Dylan. I’m me. I care for you and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  “I want to believe you. I do. But this?” He pointed to the house. “How do I know?”

  “This is my family, so I know. They aren’t people who think they’re special. They’re down-to-earth, and like almost everyone they meet.”

  “What if I’m the exception?” Trey glanced at the house again, just as the front door opened.

  A man who looked like an older, graying-haired version of Marty stepped onto the porch, calling out, “Are you going to sit in the car all day? It’s damned cold out here. Get your butts inside before you freeze to death.”

  “That’s Dad. Right to the point.” Marty grinned. “So we’d better do what he said.”

  Trey nodded. “I guess it’s time to face my fear.”

  “You know it is. Then you’ll find out it’s all up here.” Marty tapped Trey’s forehead. “So…move it.”

  Trey did, following right behind Marty as they walked to the porch. Marty’s father stepped aside to let them in, closing the door behind him. Then, holding out his hand, he said, “You must be Trey. I’m Rich.”

  “That’s his name, not a statement that he’s rolling in money,” Marty said quickly.

  “I am? Why hasn’t someone informed me?” Rich replied, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. “I’d better be right. You are Trey.”

  “I am,” Trey replied, shaking Rich’s hand.

  “Good. Otherwise we’d both be real embarrassed. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family.”

  * * * *

  Trey felt an immediate sense of relief at how friendly Marty’s father seemed to be. I hope it’s not an act, but it doesn’t feel like one.

  When he and Marty entered the living room, a pleasingly plump, middle-aged woman jumped to her feet, crossing the room to wrap Marty in a tight embrace as she said, “Merry Christmas!” She released him, turning to Trey. “That goes for you, too. I’m happy you decided to join us.”

  Trey glanced at Marty. “He didn’t give me much choice, since he didn’t tell me what was going on until we got here.”

  “That sounds like him,” a man who appeared to be a bit older than Marty said, getting up to join them. “I’m Bill, by the way, Marty’s brother. He put his arm around a young woman who came over. “This is Grace. The other woman in my life.”

  “It’s nice to meet you all,” Trey said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  “Have a seat and tell us all about yourself,” Rich said, gesturing toward one of the armchairs facing a long sofa in front of the fireplace.

  “Umm, okay.” Trey looked at Marty in panic, feeling as if he was about to face an inquisition.

  “We don’t bite, honest,” Marty’s mom told him before saying, “Since no one bothered to introduce me, I’m Noreen, or Norrie for short.” She took a seat on the sofa, Rich settled next to her, with Grace at the other end and Bill sitting on the arm beside her.

  Marty obviously read Trey’s emotions, because when Trey sat, he copied his brother, sitting on the arm of the chair. “Mom hates when we do this,” he whispered.

  “I do not,” Norrie protested. “Okay, usually I do, but today is special so I’ll overlook it.”

  “Marty hasn’t told us much about you, so far,” Rich said to Trey. “Other than that you own a costume company, and the two of you met at the bar where he works.”

  “I do, and we did,” Trey replied. He managed a smile. “We became friends because, well…”

  “Like I told him,” Marty put in, “it was nice to have someone sane to talk to. God only knows they’re few and far between at work.”

  “He keeps telling us that,” Rich said with a laugh. “But so far he hasn’t quit.”

  Marty shrugged. “I like the job, and the regulars, mostly.”

  “Especially Trey?” Bill asked with a knowing grin.

  “Definitely him, and it’s easier, now that he knows everything about me.”

  Trey thought about what Marty had said and then cocked his head, looking at him. “Easier?”

  “Well, I wanted to get to know you better but you didn’t know I was gay and I couldn’t figure out how to tell you without you thinking I was coming on to you.”

  Grace laughed. “And God forbid he would think that, right, even though you wanted to. Come on to him, I mean.”

  “Well, damn it…”

  “Dad, you’ve been remiss,” Bill said in an obvious attempt to give his brother a break from Grace’s teasing.

  “I have?” Rich said.

  “Yes. We’re all sitting here with empty hands. Where’s the eggnog and wine?”

  “You’re right,” Rich replied. “Who wants what? I know Norrie will take some eggnog, and Bill and Grace prefer wine. Trey, which would you like?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any beer.” The thought of eggnog brought back bad memories of the Christmas gathering with Dylan and his family, and Trey didn’t really like wine.

  “We do. Marty?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I get to play bartender,” Marty grumbled, but he was smiling so Trey figured it might be a running joke in his family. “You want eggnog, too, Dad?”

  “I think that’s a given.”

  Marty gave him a thumbs-up and headed to the kitchen.

  “So, Trey, why costumes?” Rich asked.

  Trey explained, the same as he had to Marty a couple of days previously. When he finished, Bill asked, “You can support yourself doing that?”

  Again, Trey flashed back to last Christmas he’d celebrated and almost bristled, remembering how Dylan’s brother had sneered as he asked a similar question. He sucked in a breath, telling himself to relax. It’s just a question, not a condemnation. “It took a couple of years to get established,” he replied, and chuckled. “Pretty lean years. Now my shop is the best in the city for good costumes—at least according to my customers. I have a full-time assistant and in another, God, twenty years—” he grimaced, “—I’ll own the building outright.”

  “Nice,” Marty said from behind him before coming around with a tray laden with drinks. “I’m hooking up with a rich man.” He grinned as he set the tray down on the coffee table.

  “Right. In your dreams,” Trey retorted.

  “I’m not hooking up with you?” Marty replied with obviously feigned dismay.

  Trey rolled his eyes. “I’m not rich.”

  “No, that would be me,” Rich said, getting laughs from everyone. He took his drink from the tray, waited until the others had as well, and then raised his glass. “Merry Christmas, one and all!”

  His words were echoed by everyone, even Trey, who added, shyly, “To my new friends.” He looked up at Marty, who had retaken his seat on the arm of Trey’s chair, murmuring, “Especially, you.”

  “And you,” Marty replied softly.

  There was a long moment of silence which was broken when Rich stood, going to the tree in the corner of the room. “Time for presents.” He picked up one, handing it to his wife. “For my lady, with love.”

  Norrie was smiling as she tore off the bright wrapping paper to reveal a box,
which she opened. “Games, Rich?” she asked as she took out a second gift-wrapped box. By the time she got to fourth one she was grinning at her husband. “Tease,” she said as she opened it—and gasped. “This is beautiful,” she whispered, taking out a silver necklace.

  “Like the woman I love,” Rich replied, tipping her face up to kiss her. At her request, he fastened it around her throat before kissing her again.

  Trey watched, a feeling of contentment washing over him, as more presents were handed around amid laughter and thanks to whoever had given them. This is how it should have been with…He pushed that thought away. That was the past. If I’d had any sense I’d have left it there instead of letting it ruin all the Christmas’s since then. If it weren’t for Marty…Resting his hand on Marty’s leg, he said quietly, “Thank you.”

  Marty covered Trey’s hand with his own. “I’m not sure for what, but you’re welcome.”

  Trey gazed into Marty’s eyes, replying, barely above a whisper, “For being you. For caring. For changing my life. For…everything.”

  He realized the room had gone quiet, looked around, and flushed when he saw everyone was watching him—and had probably overheard what he’d said.

  Norrie must have taken compassion on him because she broke the silence by getting to her feet, saying, “I’d better check the turkey. It should be almost ready. Grace, Bill, I could use your help. There’s potatoes that have to be mashed, and we need gravy, and the veggies won’t get into the bowls by themselves.”

  She bustled into the kitchen, closely followed by Bill and Grace. Rich grinned, saying, “I guess I escaped helping her,” only to have her call out, “Rich, I need a hand carving the turkey.” He laughed. “Or not,” and left the room.

  “Is there something we should be doing, too?” Trey asked Marty.

  Marty grinned. “Yes, being quiet so she doesn’t remember she didn’t recruit us, as well.”

  “I wouldn’t mind helping. I like her. I like all your family. I’m glad you kidnapped me and brought me here.”

  “I think you did the ‘bringing’ since you drove.”

  “Don’t be pedantic,” Trey muttered.

  “Me? Never.” Marty hugged him. “You know, you never told me why you don’t celebrate the holiday with your family.”