I think about how intense my life has been. There hasn’t been a lot of laughter over the years. Real laughter, anyway.
But I’ve been born again. And baby Charlotte just may tattoo Skip’s words on her wrist as a reminder of that.
“I like you, Skip.”
“I like you, too, Turkey.”
“Chicken.”
“Whatevs. Punch that button and get those bubbles fired up.”
FORTY-THREE
Eli Soaks It In
Survival Tip: Do not panic if you are trapped. Panic causes people to do foolish things, which increases danger. Find shelter and wait until you’re certain it’s safe to move on.
Eli’s Mixtape: Tame Impala, “Elephant”
WHEN THE AFTER-PARTY starts winding down, I head upstairs in search of Charlie, eager to get our own private awards ceremony underway. Instead I find Alan coming out of her room.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
He flinches and spins around with his hands up. “Looking for Charlotte.”
“No, really,” I place my forearm on the wall above him. “What are you doing?”
A weasel-faced smile creeps up. “Guess the best man won,” he says. “Or should I say the best woman?”
“Why were you in her room?”
“I know what you’re doing with her,” he snipes. “You’re just some fly-by-night guy that’s filling the holiday void she gets this time of year.” He ducks out from under me. “But here’s the thing—I live here. I work with her. I know her.”
I step closer. “You’re deranged, you know that? Keep away from her. She’s not interested. Now run along.”
He doesn’t move. “She told me about you. A long time ago, when she was drunk. She doesn’t need more heartbreak.”
My head heats up to a thousand degrees. I cock back my fist, ready to strike.
“What’s up, guys?” Charlie says, padding down the hallway in a swimsuit with a towel around her.
“Just coming to congratulate you. Great job, boss.” Eying me at the same time, Alan kisses her cheek.
He’s just dying for me to punch his face.
Her nervous laugh is back. “You too, Al.” She pauses. “’Kay, well, I better get dressed.”
Alan slinks down the stairs and crawls back inside his hole.
“I don’t like that guy,” I say. “He’s bad news. Watch out for him.”
She opens her door and drags me in. “He’s harmless. Just be patient a little while longer.” Her hand smooths back my hair. “Come snuggle with me.”
The towel drops, as does her suit, and she takes a running leap into bed and buries herself under the covers.
Still jacked up on Alan rage, I lie on top and fold my hands across my chest.
Her nose peeks out. “Aren’t you going to get in?”
“Not right now.”
“I won,” she says solemnly.
“You did.”
“I talked to Skip. I think he’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“What about us?”
I turn to my side and play with her hair. “I could come work with you?”
She frowns. “I’m selling the agency.”
I jerk back. “What?”
She nods. “To Grayson. They want to buy me out.”
“So let me get this straight, you went through all of this bullshit, so could sell your business?” I rub my eyes. I can’t believe it.
“It was the plan all along. I want to travel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because this is the first time you’ve given me any indication you’re interested in a future.”
I flop on my back and sigh. “Goddammit, Charlie, why do you have to be so difficult?”
She pops out from under the blankets, straddles my chest, and pins my arms over my head. She bites her way down my neck then licks my nipples and continues below. “You love me.”
I hold back her hair so I can get a better view. “I do. I really, really do.”
FORTY-FOUR
Eli Visits The Swingers
Survival Tip: When you’re on an adventure, sometimes it’s important to realize how far you’ve come, not how far you have to go.
Eli’s Mixtape: Elbow, “Trust the Sun”
ON CHRISTMAS EVE MORNING, Charlie perches on top of me naked. “Merry Christmas, Loser.”
I play with my fidget toys, her nipples. “Your bruises are almost gone,” I tell her.
“Almost healed.” She stretches and yawns, elongating her lean body.
“Is this my Christmas present? Waking up with you on top of me?” I grip her hips and grind my hard-on against her.
She moves back a little and plays with my cock, then rises and guides me into her. We don’t move. I relish the feeling of our connection, warm and wet.
“I have a surprise for you,” she says.
I slide in and out. “It’s fantastic. Thank you.”
She caresses her clit until I take over the duty. “Not now. Later.”
“Mmm. I can’t wait.”
Three minutes post orgasm, Charlie drapes a long leg across my body. “I called your parents. We’re going over there tonight for dinner.”
Instantly, my dick shrinks and slips out of her. “You what?”
“They’re expecting us at five.”
I sit up. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“Elliott, your mom told me she hasn’t seen you since you left. How could you be so cold? They’re your parents. They love you.”
“They’re more interested in kinky sex than me.”
She gives me an old witch eye. “You sound like Christine.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, if you found your parents in the middle of an orgy on your thirteenth birthday, you wouldn’t be so open-minded.” I put furious finger quotes around open-minded.
“Is that what happened?”
Feeling exposed suddenly, I jump up and put on my pajama bottoms.
She takes my hand. “Sit down and talk to me.”
I keep standing. “Remember that night I slept with you on my birthday?”
A big smile takes over her face. “I logged it in my journal as the best day of my life. Wonder what happened to that journal? Anyway, you and Weiner killed our trees.”
“That was Patrick’s idea. I needed to take my rage out on something. The point is, they don’t care about me.”
“That’s not what your mom said. She cried when she heard you were in town and didn’t call her.”
I rub the ache out of my chest. “How are we going to get to Evergreen?”
“Burt said we could use the van.”
I secretly pray for a blizzard. Unfortunately, the sky is so blue it hurts my eyes.
Later in the morning, the remaining campers pile in the van with Burt and Art and take Austin to see Santa and the chocolate village in Keystone. He screams bloody murder the minute he sees the jolly elf.
After that shitshow, we return to the lodge and go ice-skating. Then we drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace and decorate an enormous tree.
Earlier, Burt and Art made us draw names out of a hat for secret Santa gifts. They’re big on the spirit of the holidays, so they insisted everyone make gifts, instead of buying into the consumerism. That’s exactly the sort of thing the filthy rich do.
I chose Skip. My gift to him is my salary. I’m fairly certain Avery and I are the highest-paid employees at Shimura. He could save two jobs just by losing me.
I still want to do something special for Charlie though. And if anything, visiting my parents tonight gives me an opportunity to do that.
At four o’clock, Charlie snags a bottle of wine from the cellar, and we bundle up and head out to the van.
MY MOTHER IS STANDING in the yard crying when we arrive. I’ve talked to her on the phone over the years. She and Dad are on my Facebook, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in person in a decade.
I take after her
Nordic roots. We’re both tall and blond and thin. Our eyes are virtually the same color, although with age, hers have turned a lighter shade of blue.
My parents look like a stock photo that might come up in a search for “handsome retired couples.” They still hike and play tennis and ride bikes and fuck other people.
My mom hugs Charlie before she hugs me. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve thought about you so much over the years.”
“This place looks exactly the same,” Charlie says inside our house. “You still have the same furniture.”
It’s like stepping into a museum exhibit of my childhood. It even smells the same, like mashed potatoes and my dad’s aftershave.
I feel like a moody teenager all of a sudden, with an overwhelming need to run to my room and hide.
“Your father’s watching A Christmas Story in the den,” Mom titters. “Gary’s in the kitchen. We’re just finishing up dinner. Would you like some wine?”
I love how she breezed right over the Gary part. The part where there’s another man living in the house and having a bisexual relationship with my parents.
Charlie shoots me a confused look. “Gary?”
I shake my head, warning her not to bring it up. I purposely hid that tidbit from her. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d be here. The guy moved in a couple of years ago so he could screw my parents on a full-time basis.
“I’ll be right out with the wine,” my mom sings. “Go see your dad. He’s so excited you could make it.”
My father is not excited to see me. He doesn’t even get up out his seat to greet us. “Hey,” he says, keeping his attention on A Christmas Story. “Your favorite show’s on. It’s almost at the naked leg lamp part.”
Charlie and I take a seat and watch the scene unfold.
“It’s indescribably beautiful!” Ralphie’s dad cries.
“The soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window.”
“It reminds me of the Fourth of July! You should see what it looks like from out here.”
I study my dad as he regards the TV, his hair now completely gray, his mouth tilted up in an amused half-smile, and this sensation sweeps through me, like I’m watching a movie of my life—The St. James’ Dysfunctional Christmas.
“I’m going to see if your mom needs help,” Charlie says.
After she’s gone, I carry on staring at my father, trying to figure out how this man contributed to my DNA. We don’t look alike. Our personalities are completely different. And there’s the part where he swings both ways and gets off on group sex.
We have nothing in common, except a fondness for this movie. For a second, I wonder if this man is even my father.
“Can I ask you something, Dad?”
He mutes the program. “Shoot.”
“What’s it like fucking other people when you’re married to mom?”
My dad swivels his recliner so he’s facing me and blows out a harsh sigh. “You know, son, I can’t tell you how pleased I am that these are the first words out of your mouth to me in a decade.” The frown on his face tells an epic story of disappointment.
“Since we’re not bothering with the social pleasantries,” my dad says, “I’ll just jump right in and say what’s on my mind. Your mother and I have gone through many cycles over the years with our relationship. You didn’t want much to do with us. You were always over at the Sullivans’ house. She felt a void. I think a lot of women go through that, when their kids grow up.”
He studies me for a second before he continues. “At the same time, I was trying to make partner at the law firm. I could barely make it home to give her a kiss goodnight. Your mother’s always been a very sexual person. We agreed she could play with other men, as long as nothing came out of it. We’ve always been adventurous with our sex life, and I never had a problem with it. Neither did she.”
“And what about the time I found you on my birthday?”
“Well, we were experimenting with ecstasy that day. Things got out of control. I’m not proud of it. But the thing is, and maybe you’ll learn this one day if you ever decide to have children, just because you have kids doesn’t mean you’re a grown-up. Marriage is far more complicated than a TV show, and it pisses me off when people try to dictate the rules. Particularly you, the son who hasn’t graced us with his presence in ten years.”
“And that guy in the kitchen?” I point my chin. “What about him?”
“Gary? We have a lot of fun together. And bottom line? We’re not hurting anyone.”
It’s hurting me. But this is ten-year-old me—the Ralphie who wants his holidays to be like a Fifties’ Christmas, with a mom and dad who’d rather embarrass me with a bunny suit than a bisexual relationship.
For a minute, I put aside my childhood and study my father. I look at him as if he were a man and not a parent. I feel sorry for him. And I feel sorry for me.
“So you’re back with Charlie?” he asks after a long silence.
I nod.
“What’s she been up to? Your mother said you were out here on business?”
I nod again.
Dad scratches his stubble then releases a shaky breath. His mouth quivers, and his eyes redden.
I’ve never seen my dad cry before. I cover my face to hide my own tears.
He gets up and hugs me.
It’s incredibly awkward.
“I’ve missed you, son. I’ve missed you since you were a little kid running around with Patrick and didn’t want to hang out with us anymore.” He yanks out a tissue from a box on the side table and honks into it. “We can’t change the past. But we can change the future.”
I glom onto that line, because it’s sort of the theme of my life at the moment.
“Let’s go see what mom’s making,” he says.
Right then, I feel this expansiveness, like I’m finally free. I’ve finally let go of all the guilt and shame and pain of my past, and I can grow up and be an adult.
Except, there’s still a twinge of tightness that keeps me from being completely at peace—fear of the unknown.
I wish I had my fucking quote-of-the-day app. Burt still hasn’t given me back my phone.
During dinner, Charlie keeps things light and airy and small-talk-y. She’s doing this as a favor to me, because she can tell I’m at a loss for words.
Every time there’s a pause, my mom asks me a question about our relationship. I think she has her mind set on grandkids.
Can you imagine Gary in that scenario? How would I explain that to my kids?
Wait, am I thinking about having children with Charlie? The room spins for a minute as I process this thought.
I suddenly can’t picture my life without her in it.
When the meal is over, no one lingers around the table. Gary and my Dad jet to the den to watch TV. Charlie and I do the dishes. My mom packs up the leftovers. And then it’s time to head back.
Just before we leave, I sneak off to my old room. It shocks me to find it in the same condition I left it.
My snowboard trophies line the shelves. Posters of Nineties’ grunge metal bands still cover the walls. My clothes are still hanging in the closet.
Mom comes in and sits on my bed. “Can I help you find something?”
“Why did you keep all this?”
She fiddles with the buttons on her Christmas blouse for a second. “I don’t know. Seems silly, I guess, but when you left, part of me thought you’d come back. Moms have a hard time letting go of their babies.”
A memory of her dropping me off at the airport appears through the fog—her begging me not to leave, telling me to heal my leg and talk to Charlie before I made a huge mistake.
I should have listened to her.
I open the top drawer of my dresser. Inside is the bag I was hoping to find. I stuff it in my pocket and grab a framed picture off one of my shelves and zip it inside my coat.
“Are you coming back this time?” my mom asks.
I close my eyes and stop breathin
g, willing the answer to come. “I don’t know, yet.”
“I’ve always secretly hoped you two would get back together.”
Me too, I think, but I don’t say it, because this is too much right now. I’m not built for this. I can only handle so much drama at one time.
She rises from the bed and hugs me tight. “Please call me the instant you get back to the lodge. Or I’ll stay up all night worrying.”
The back of my throat narrows. My mom still worries about me after I’ve been such an ungrateful son. How is that possible? How can you love someone after they’ve been such a dick?
When we say our goodbyes, my parents cry. I try not to. Then we start up the van and head back to Breckenridge.
Not even halfway down our driveway, Charlie says, “Well? Are you glad I made you go?”
“Yeah,” I say and leave it at that.
“You’re such a man.” She snorts and stuffs her hand in my pocket. “What’s this?” She pulls out the bag I put in there it earlier.
“Don’t!” I swerve and correct the van just before I bash into a stop sign.
It’s too late. She’s already opened the box. Her hand flies to her mouth. “Is this—?”
“I bought it a long time ago.”
“It’s…” She turns to me with mirth in her eyes. “Hideous. Oh my God.”
I wince. “It was the style back then.”
“Jesus, what were you thinking?” She picks up the ring and examines it in the light, looking as if she might vomit. “I thought you knew me.”
“I should have asked you to pick it out. I’m not good at those things. You know that.”
She snaps it back inside the box and stares out the window.
“Chicken?”
She doesn’t answer. A car honks behind me, and I shift the van into gear.
“Are you mad?”
“You had it engraved.”
“I did.”
“‘Mine, all mine.’”
I chuckle. “I was kind of a dick back then.”
She faces me, looking hollowed out. “Why didn’t you propose?”
Field-Tripped Page 18
