Bearly Christmas

by Becca Fanning

  But it hadn’t happened in college, either. Gemma had studied archaeology and art history and despite her best efforts, the relationship with her male peers never went beyond study buddy. There was one night where Gemma dressed up to the nines and went to a bar for New Year’s Eve, desperate to find a guy who’d love her. But everyone was already paired off, and the only thing Gemma kissed at midnight was the lip of a shot glass.

  She was miserable, but she decided that it probably wasn’t happening because she was trying too hard. “Everything will be better once you quit looking so desperate,” Talia said, in all of her infinite, divorced-lady wisdom. “I promise.”

  So Gemma quit looking. Instead of haunting bars and coffee shops, she haunted the library and graduated Magna Cum Laude. Her professors, her parents, even Talia said they were all so proud of Gemma. But she still felt like a failure. “What’s wrong with me?” Gemma asked the mirror, every single night before she went to sleep. “Why isn’t it happening for me, like with everyone else?”

  She’d decided that if she hadn’t met someone by the age of thirty, she’d go to a sperm bank and “pick a father.” The idea was scary, and something that Talia tried to talk her out of. But her mother had been supportive. She’d driven Gemma to the clinic in the wee hours of her 30th birthday.

  “Honey, this is going to be hard,” Gemma’s mother said. “You won’t have time for anyone but your child, not for years. Do you know how hard that is when you’re on your own?”

  Gemma had stared at her mother. In a rare moment of bad temper, she’d snapped: “But I’m already doing everything on my own, aren’t I? How much harder can it be?”

  In reality, it hadn’t been as hard as Gemma had feared. She’d adored being pregnant – schlepping around in cute maternity outfits and beaming at everyone who gazed at her belly. She’d felt like it suited her. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like she’d done something exactly right. Her friends at work offered pregnancy advice – books and DVDs and useful tidbits like, “you’re not really eating for two, you know. Try to keep your calorie intake close to normal.” Gemma took it all in stride, and for the first couple of months, nothing really extraordinary happened. Her lips swelled and her hair curled a little bit, and while she felt more attractive, that was no basis for what happened next.

  Men couldn’t stay away from her. It was like the world had flipped upside down, or the poles had lost their polarity. Gemma didn’t get it; she was pregnant. Didn’t that mean to men that she was marked, somehow? Off limits? It was puzzling.

  There was the time at the grocery store when Gemma was just beginning to show. She was reaching up high to the top shelf for a deluxe pack of her favorite cookies. Out of nowhere, a handsome guy with dark hair swooped in and grabbed them for her, delicately placing them in her cart.

  “These are for you,” he’d said with a grin. “I know you were reaching for them.”

  Gemma had blushed and stuttered and put a hand on her belly, gazing down shyly at the dirty tiled floor. “Thanks,” she’d murmured. “But I could have gotten them.”

  “Can I take you out?” The man had pressed. His blue eyes stared into hers and Gemma felt a world of feeling that she’d never encountered.

  “No,” she’d said – but it had taken some resistance, Gemma remembered. She wasn’t used to the attention of men, and it felt absolutely delicious.

  “It’s because you’re pregnant,” Talia had said, rolling her eyes and kicking her feet up on the leather pouffe in front of Gemma’s couch. “It’s like they know they can’t have you, and they’re asking anyway.”

  Gemma had pursed her lips and let her gaze fall to the magazine in her lap. “Maybe,” she’d said. There was something inside of her, like a little pinprick, that somehow didn’t want to let Talia get away with being right this time. It wasn’t just what Talia had said. Gemma couldn’t explain it, but deep down she knew: something had changed forever.

  --

  Now, the party was about to start and Gemma was still half-dressed. Even though it was her son’s birthday, she’d bought herself a new dress: a pink sundress with cream stripes on the skirt. It showed off her trim figure and made her look a little younger than her 32 years.

  “You look great,” Talia said. She burst into the kitchen armed with two paper bags and her own son, Michael, trailing behind. He was only six months older than Arthur and the two boys were best friends.

  “Thanks,” Gemma said. She blushed. She still wasn’t exactly used to compliments, even from her older sister. “And thanks again for picking up the food.”

  “No sweat,” Talia replied. She set the paper bags down on the counter and began to unload: packs of pre-cut veggies with ranch dip, grocery store hot macaroni and cheese, and fried chicken. It all smelled amazing, and Gemma felt her stomach beginning to rumble. “When are the other rugrats showing up?”

  Gemma laughed. “The party starts at two,” she said, frowning and glancing down at her watch. “And that damn clown was supposed to be here an hour ago! Part of the package was a special hour with the birthday boy,” she said, raising her eyebrows at her older sister.

  Talia rolled her eyes. “They’re always late,” she said, looking down at the table and scooping Michael up in her arms. “Trust me. Want me to start putting this stuff out in the backyard?”

  “Yes,” Gemma said. “Thank you so much!” She watched as Talia expertly maneuvered her way into the yard with a toddler in one hand and a tray full of snacks in the other.

  “Mommy,” Arthur said loudly. He’d been silent for a long time. “Party!”

  Gemma laughed. She walked over to the high chair and scooped him up in her arms. “Yes, baby,” she said, nuzzling her son’s sweet neck. It always smelled of talc and she loved having him in her arms. It was the most comforting thing in the world. “And it’s going to be so much fun!”

  But three hours later, Gemma wasn’t having much fun at all. The clown hadn’t shown up – they’d had two very tense phone conversations where he yelled into the receiver that he was stuck in traffic and would likely be any minute now – and Gemma was starting to panic. At first, the party had gone well. The backyard was full of toddlers running around and shrieking with glee, their faces smeared with cake. The parents had all sat down to one side and exchanged catty looks about whose child was better. Gemma had served tea and lemonade and finally, in a fit of desperation, wine from a box that she’d been storing in the fridge for a few months.

  “Is it wrong that I feel totally drunk?” Talia giggled and put her head on Gemma’s shoulder. Gemma was feeling tipsy herself, but more nervous. The energy of the toddlers was beginning to die down. The magic show was planned as the peak of the afternoon, and now that the clown hadn’t shown up, Gemma had no idea what she’d do to entertain twenty hot, riled up, smelly, sweaty little kids.

  “Okay kids,” Gemma said loudly, clapping her hands together and stepping into the middle of the backyard. “We’re going to play a game.”

  “Or we can do some magic tricks,” a deep male voice said. Gemma jumped a foot into the air out of surprise. She whirled around to see a tall guy with shaggy brown hair and golden eyes stepping away from the line of parents. “I’ve brought my kit with me, who wants to see?”

  All of the kids roared and giggled, rushing towards the man. He gestured for them to sit and amazingly, they obediently fell into small piles on the grass in front of him. Gemma watched, bewitched, as he pulled a magic wand seemingly out of nowhere and waved it in the air.

  “Abracadabra!” The man waved his arms in the air and suddenly, a bunch of silk scarves appeared high above him. The children all cheered as the scarves floated down into the air, and Gemma stared in amazement.

  “How does he do that?” Gemma whispered into Talia’s ear. Talia brushed her sister away, like she was an annoying fly or a bug.

  “I don’t know,” Talia said. She breathed heavily. “He’s gorgeous though, isn’t he?”

  G
emma’s mouth went dry. She had noticed that one little thing. Plus, even though she was more than willing to chalk it up to the wine she’d drunk, she couldn’t help the feeling that the man was staring at her.

  “And he’s staring at you, lucky,” Talia said enviously. Her face showed that she was green with envy. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know,” Gemma said. She furrowed her brow. “I guess he must have come with one of the kids. I’ve never seen him before, though.”

  Talia laughed. “That’s so typical,” she tutted. “Men don’t really do that great a job raising their young, you know? You never see them. It’s always the moms who take their kids out. You can tell – when the kid fucks up, the Dad always thinks it cute. Mom wouldn’t take that shit, though.”

  Gemma looked away. Her sister’s cynicism sometimes felt like too much for her to deal with. It was true that she didn’t know who the man was – and even though he wasn’t wearing a wedding band, she wasn’t holding out hope. She knew that he was probably just a dad of one of the kids that she’d never met; it was true that primarily mothers shuffled the kids around to various play-dates.

  The kids were magnetized to the man. They couldn’t stop watching as he did a variety of tricks with the silk scarves and finally, a top hat with a real white rabbit. It had a twitching pink nose and soft ears. The man leaned down and set the bunny into Arthur’s lap.

  “For the birthday boy,” he said with a flourish. “My gift to you.”

  Even though he wasn’t talking to her, Gemma flushed hotly. She watched as Arthur’s cheeks pinked. Please say the right thing, she begged her son mentally. Please don’t embarrass me.

  “Thank you,” Arthur said perfectly, in slightly stilted English. “Thank you for bunny.”

  Gemma grinned. She blushed again as she watched the man lope over to the corner of the yard and lean against the fence. For such a big guy, he was incredibly graceful. She’d loved the way his fluid hands had moved through the air with the scarves, enchanting everyone in the yard.

  As everyone was beginning to leave, Gemma collapsed into a plastic lawn chair. Her legs were aching and she felt sweaty and dirty, no longer glamorous in her new dress. Talia walked over with Michael in one hand and Arthur in the other.

  “Is it okay if I take him for the night?” Arthur was still clutching his bunny. “Michael thought a pizza party and sleepover would be nice.” She winked at Gemma. “And this way, Mommy gets some alone time.”

  “Mommy definitely needs some alone time,” Gemma replied, stifling a yawn. She leaned forward and hugged Arthur. “You behave,” she said. “And leave your bunny here, I’ll make sure he gets a cage and something to eat.” She scooped the soft white rabbit up from Arthur’s arms and tucked it in her lap. The bunny looked at her with brown eyes and Gemma felt her heart melt a little. Even though she’d never wanted a pet, she did have to admit the rabbit was quite cute.

  Talia shuffled the kids out of the yard and Gemma glanced around. Almost everyone had gone, except for the man who had stepped in to play magician. Gemma watched as he grabbed a plastic bag and walked around, tossing paper cups and plates inside.

  “No, no,” Gemma said quickly. She stood up and walked over. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Please,” the man said. He smiled at her with an easy grace. “You look exhausted. I know how tiring those kids can be.”

  Gemma laughed. “It’s true,” she said. “My sister told me I was high when I told her I was planning a party for Arthur. But it was so much fun!” She glanced away. “You really saved the day, though,” she added. A blush came over her cheeks. “You were a big hit. How did you plan that?”

  The guy shrugged. He gave Gemma another goofy grin and she felt like her heart would burst. Just being around him was making her mouth dry and her breath come in short little hiccups. “Just a lucky guess,” he said with a grin. “So, was I a hit?”

  Gemma laughed. “And how did you know that Arthur had been dying for a rabbit? Did your kid tell you?”

  The guy grinned and shook his head. “Lucky guess,” he said, winking at Gemma.

  Gemma felt a hot pink flush take over her cheeks. She bit her lip. “Um, would you like a glass of wine?”

  The guy shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Rock, by the way.”

  Gemma’s jaw dropped. “Rock?” She giggled. “Like Rock Hudson?”

  Rock cleared his throat. “Except I like women, but yes.” When Gemma placed her hand in Rock’s, his skin was hot and rough. She could feel heavy callouses on his palm and the touch excited her – a shiver of arousal crawled down her spine. Gemma wriggled. She wasn’t used to feeling things like this, and she knew it was probably dangerous but right now she didn’t care. She was alone with the hottest guy she’d ever seen and he was going to have a drink with her.

  Gemma darted into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. “Here,” she said softly, suddenly shy again. “This is all I have. I’m sorry if it sucks.”

  Rock laughed, exposing a row of even, white teeth. “I’m sure it’s good,” he said in a low voice. Gemma shivered again. Rock’s voice was low and deep and it made her toes curl in her leather sandals. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Rock stayed around….

  Ten minutes later, the two of them were sitting on Gemma’s porch swing. The heat of the day had faded into a dusky, warm evening. The humidity had dried up and Gemma finally felt like she could breathe again. The sky was beautiful pinkish orange and she felt relaxed, calm. Like everything was going to be okay somehow.

  “I’m out of wine,” Gemma chirped. The alcohol was going to her head and making her feel both pretty and fluttery. She loved the way that Rock stared at her: it was just like the attention that she’d received when she was pregnant with Arthur. Only better, because this time she was interested in flirting back. Gemma didn’t really know how to flirt. She’d always watched Talia and her other girlfriends for pointers, but aside from giggling a lot, tossing her hair, and saying stupid things there didn’t seem to be much to it. Now, Gemma knew that was completely a lie. She knew that she was flirting with Rock, but everything felt natural and relaxed, almost like it was supposed to happen this way.

  “I’ll get more,” Rock said in a smooth, easy voice. He stood up from the porch swing, sending Gemma flying back through the air. “Want anything to eat?”

  Gemma bit her lip. She was hungry, but not for food. “No, thank you,” she said, blushing as Rock’s golden-brown eyes stared into her own. They were just the color of backlit honey, of sunbeams on a dark morning. She loved them. They were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Oddly, they reminded her of big versions of Arthur’s.

  Rock came back, walking in a fluid motion. He gracefully handed Gemma a glass of wine and sipped his own. He’d filled the glasses so high that wine was sloshing over the brim and Gemma giggled as spots of Pinot Grigio landed on the front of her sundress.

  “You look gorgeous in that,” Rock said. He turned to her and stared at her frame. Gemma felt another heated blush come over her cheeks and she bit her lip, glancing down at Rock’s muscular body. Even though he was clad in a loose plaid shirt and dark jeans, she could tell he was really built.

  “Thank you,” Gemma said softly. Before she knew what was happening, Rock was kissing her. It was a beautiful kiss, a kiss about petal-soft lips and gentle touches. As Rock pressed his wide lips against her own, Gemma melted into his arms. Her wine was forgotten as she wrapped her arms around Rock’s neck and pulled him closer. As Rock’s tongue slipped between Gemma’s lips, she let out a long, quiet moan. Between her legs was tingling and thumping with arousal, and when he put his hands on her chest she wriggled and squirmed with delight.

  “Let’s go inside,” Rock whispered breathlessly into Gemma’s ear. She nodded and then she felt his strong arms snaking around her body and scooping her into the air. Rock carried her gently, like she weighed no more than a feather.
As he walked, Gemma pressed her face into his neck and gently kissed and licked the skin there. Rock’s chin and neck were covered in brown stubble and Gemma found the sensation of the hair brushing against her face to be erotic. She could smell Rock, and that thrilled her, too: he smelled like the woods, all musk and pine.