by Pat Henshaw
“But I never thought you were that kind of man, Elwood. So this has surprised me.”
She sat back, which I thought was a sign I could start talking. I was wrong. She snapped her fingers together when I opened my mouth.
“Who is this Jason person, anyway? Do you know anything solid about him? Or is this a gut reaction to the way he looks and sounds and smells?” She had sat up now and was attacking me with a pointer finger in the face.
Guess it was my turn to speak.
“Jason? What the hell has Jason got to do with anything?” I both sounded and felt like a moron.
“That’s what I want to know!” Her hands flew up, a fingernail clipping me on the cheek. “Who the hell is Jason, and who does he think he is?”
She did her “I’m all ears” listening thing. She put her elbows on the table, slapped her arms down and crossed them, then sat forward staring at me. I always felt self-conscious and dumber than shit when she did that.
“Uh, there’s nothing to say. I mean, he’s a nice guy and real good-looking and all. But he’s this kid’s uncle, and he’s got a bitch of a mother.” I shrugged and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Uh, yeah, that’s about it.”
“So you’re not planning to marry him?” She was practically leaning into the beer the server had put in front of her.
“Uh, no. Why would you…?” Damn Jimmy. Why did he have to go and tell his mother something stupid like this? “Jimmy got it wrong if you heard about Jason from him. I told him he was wrong at lunch a few days ago.”
“Well!” She sat back and took a long sip of her beer. “So why didn’t he tell me?”
I shrugged. I had no words. He didn’t tell her cuz he wanted her to stop getting into his business all the time.
She sighed and slumped a bit. Her eyes looked sad when she stared at me.
“You know, I always thought it would be you and my James forever. What went wrong?”
What could I say? I let out my own sigh. Maybe it was time for me to lay the bald truth on her.
“Look, I love Jimmy. I’ve loved him ever since I met him, you know? And I’ll love him until I die. But there comes a time when you got to sit down with yourself and pull out all the bullshit and throw it away. Jimmy and me’s no good, you know?” I glared when she opened her mouth. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for her. “He’s smart, like book smart. He can talk to anybody about anything, you know? I’m okay, a good enough guy. But Jimmy, he needs someone better than good.”
She opened her mouth, but I shut her down again.
“Yeah, I wish it wasn’t true. But it’s time for me to get on with my life. Him and me, we got too many differences. He’d get real tired of me. You know as well as I do that you gotta find your equal if you’re both gonna be happy. That’s just the way it is. But we’ll always be friends. Always.”
When she got that light in her eyes like she was going to tear me a new one, I shook my head.
“I don’t want to talk about it no more. Let’s talk about something else. If you got nothing better to say, lunch is over.”
She sighed finally. She wasn’t happy. So what? Join the club.
The rest of the meal passed okay. Every once in a while, she’d look at me, shake her head, sigh, and drink more beer. That was okay by me as long as she stayed out of my business.
7
CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL week passed in a blur of work. The do-it-yourself kids’ table was a bigger hit than at Thanksgiving. The kids went away with gifts in boxes ready to wrap for their parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The parents got a half hour to themselves to buy stuff wherever they wanted in or out of Old Town.
Like we did at Thanksgiving, we sold out the stock on hand and took special orders even though we told everybody they didn’t have a chance in hell to get the stuff before Christmas. Nobody gave us shit about that, and most of them paid in full without bitching.
Even though she worked during the day, Hazel came by every night with dinner for everybody at my shop and Jimmy’s. We’d sit around a cleaned-up craft table and chow down. We was so tired we didn’t hardly talk, but ate, and everybody left to go home afterward.
I’d clean up the dinner stuff, close the shop, and fall into bed unable to do nothing else, even work on the special orders.
THE DAY before Christmas, we was zombies. We didn’t care about the customers that rushed in demanding to be helped. We’d stare blankly at them, nod, and walk off, sometimes to get what they wanted, sometimes to get away from them.
We didn’t care about money. We only wanted to get to bed and sleep for a week solid.
Hazel’s farm lunch for employees didn’t happen. Everybody slinked home saying they was sorry, but couldn’t do it.
Jimmy staggered into the shop as I started to shut off the lights. Almost all the shelves were empty. I’d told everybody to go home and closed early. Old Town had started to look like Ghost Town, with no shoppers in sight. I’d banked the fire and was waiting for him.
“You up to going to the farm, Butch?”
He looked so bad I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him everything would be okay. We’d made it through the busiest holiday season ever. Sure, we still had to deal with the returns, but we could sleep until then.
My resolution to give up my lifelong dream of marrying him and us living happily ever after wavered. Could I really do it? Was I that strong? It would be the best for him. I’d do anything for him. But when I was this tired and needed somebody to hold me and love me, I wondered how stupid I was.
What about me? I wanted to scream. Don’t I count to anybody?
I looked down at my scarred hands. Who the fuck did I think I was? Who cared?
When I glanced up, Jimmy was staring at me. My world got back on track. He was what was important, not me. This wasn’t about me.
“Yeah, I’m ready to get going. I’ve gotta turn the night-lights on. You want a ride?” I’d already stowed his gift in the truck, so I was good to go.
He nodded.
“Mom took my truck. Hey, don’t forget to lock up the storage cube.”
“Why?” I laughed. “There’s nothing in it.”
He nodded and moved through the shop like he was sleepwalking.
“See you in the truck, then.”
He left. I locked up. He dozed on the way out of town and into the dark country night.
I had time to toughen myself up. No point in losing it now.
DINNER WAS quiet, with too much food and too little chatter. Even Hazel’s holiday fruitcake and fermented cider didn’t make us festive.
Jimmy revived a little after his short nap, so him and his mom told a few stories about weird customers.
Sprawled on my side of the table, I described how Leonard had dropped in to tell me his boyfriend liked the cuff he’d made. The boyfriend, a shorter, skinnier kid, had stood a little behind him, blushing the whole time. When I put out my hand to shake his, he blushed even harder. His hand felt like a tiny bird wing in mine. I was afraid to squeeze it at all.
As he watched us, Leonard had sighed. “Here’s how you do it.”
He’d grabbed my hand and pumped it hard.
His friend squeaked and pulled him away.
“Have a nice Christmas, Mr. Butch!” The boys had left in a bubble of giggles.
“Did you see his uncle?” Hazel asked. I could tell Jimmy wanted to know too.
“Nope. Just the boys.”
After a short pause, Hazel got up to clear the table. It was time to open presents.
I’d wanted to make Jimmy a ring, something to remind him of our friendship. But I was afraid I’d put my heart in it too much and then not be able to back away like I should. My second thought was to make him a new leather cuff, since his old one was looking so shabby. But again, that’d be too personal.
After thinking about it a long, long time, I settled on the perfect gift. It was personal enough that I could pour myself into it. But public enough that it’d show h
ow much I wanted to always protect him but knew I could only do it from far away.
I made him a security grill for his shop’s front window and a matching kickplate, latch, and grill for the front door. They was all decorated in English ivy cuz Hazel told me it meant love and friendship. I figured even though Jimmy would be with someone like Uncle Jason or somebody like that, he’d still be bound to me in my heart.
The iron pieces was thief proof. You had to be inside the shop to unscrew them. The ivy leaves was small enough that you could see through the window at the stuff for sale but not big enough you could break the glass and stick your hand through to steal anything.
When he got done opening the heavy box, Jimmy was all choked up.
“I want you to feel safe and protected all the time.” I maybe didn’t need to explain, but I couldn’t take him looking at me like he was.
“I hope you like what I made you as much as I like all of this.”
He reached under his chair for a real flat box. He laid it on the table in front of me. When I unwrapped the box, inside was a sketch pad.
I glanced down, but before I could open it, Jimmy cleared his throat. I looked over to see him on one knee in front of me.
“Butch, Elwood Collier, love of my life and my best friend, will you marry me? The drawings are for rings, yours and mine. I was going to have someone else make them, but I don’t want anyone else to do it. Only you. Will you marry me?”
I started crying. He couldn’t mean it, could he? I wasn’t….
“I know you don’t think you’re smart enough for me. But stop a minute and really think about it. Who else will listen to me even though he doesn’t understand anything I’m droning on about? And who else do I listen to even though I don’t understand anything he’s telling me about melting points and design elements and how to make something delicate and beautiful out of heavy metals?” He gestured toward the present I’d given him.
“Who else do I go to lunch with, Butch, because I can’t wait to see him? Or take a work break with or laze around on a weekend with that I don’t worry about what we talk about or what we’ll do? You’re the most beautiful man, inside and out. Who else have I been dying to kiss since high school?”
He glanced at his mother and blushed. “And who else do I want to undress and run my hands over and….”
I grabbed him and kissed him. We kissed so hard I thought we’d break our teeth or smash skulls trying to get closer.
After all these years. After all this time. I gave up. I gave in.
When we came up for air, Hazel was gone. We heard the door to the kitchen close and her yell, “Go on upstairs, boys. I’ll clean up.”
That year we had the best do-it-yourself Christmas.
Jimmy made me the one thing I’ve always wanted my whole entire life. He made me the happiest man in the world.
PAT HENSHAW was born and raised in Nebraska and promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in warmer Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California. She has lived an eventful life, being terrified through tornados, hurricanes, fires, rains, and mudslides. She rode an elephant and speedy boat in Thailand, stood on the edge of an active volcano in Nicaragua, defended the tundra in Colorado and Alaska, and touched the pyramids then circled the Sphinx in Egypt.
Now retired, Pat spent her working life with words: teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.
Her triumphs include raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power, intelligence, and compassion. Her supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction. She and her husband live in Northern California.
Talk to Pat at:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/pat.henshaw.10
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6998437.Patois
Website: www.pathenshaw.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @phenshaw
By Pat Henshaw
Blame It on the Fruitcake
Making the Holidays Happy Again
The Orpheum Miracle
FOOTHILLS PRIDE STORIES
What’s in a Name?
Redesigning Max
Behr Facts
When Adam Fell
Relative Best
Frank at Heart
Waking the Behr
Short Order
Foothills Pride Stories, Vol. 1 Anthology
Foothills Pride Stories, Vol. 2 Anthology
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Making the Holidays Happy Again
© 2019 Pat Henshaw
Cover Art
© 2019 L.C. Chase
http://www.lcchase.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-769-8
Digital eBook published December 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
