#ChristmasHatesYouToo

by E. F. Mulder

  “Anyone around Noel five minutes can’t help but fall in love,” Noah said.

  “I believe that.” Hung touched my cheek.

  “It took you a little longer, Bart.”

  “And all of these people agree—hundreds of them,” Betsy read from her printout. “His support meant a lot to me back last June. It’s from Baseema, Noel. Noel Beebe sees people, not color, not differences, not hate. He sees and shows love. You have taken something done in jest and turned it into a reason to vilify. Shame on you.”

  “It’s all up on the website,” Hung said. “If we get half the notice the other stuff got….”

  “Noel’ll get a swelled head. Oh.” Nate took his joke back right away.

  I’d smacked my head against the curb when the truck accidentally hit me. That caused the swelling in my skull which was making me nap through Christmas and my birthday. That’s what the doctor had said. “It’s okay, Nate,” I told him. “It was funny. I’m going to be fine.”

  “We posted a lot of them on our Twitter page,” Hung said. “They’ve already been retweeted dozens of times, and the hashtag #MerryBirthdayNoel even trended a while. Not as long as the mean one that started all this, but that’s the world we live in, I guess.” Hung sounded so sad.

  “Not necessarily,” my mother said. “It’s just the one we hear about more. All the support and love for Noelly proves that.”

  “Excuse me.” The doctor came in. “I know you hate to leave, but I have to check him over. We have refreshments for the holiday. The chapel is available….”

  “Should we grab my girls and the rest of the gang and head down for some prayer?” Drew asked. “I’m sure we’ve all been doing a lot of it already, one on one, but there’s strength in numbers. If we all join together, there’s no telling what we might accomplish.”

  They began to file out.

  “Hung…. Four-H?” My mother turned back.

  “Yes, Mrs. Beebe?”

  “Would you care to join us?”

  “No. Stay with me,” I begged.

  “Thank you. I would.”

  Hung followed the others but snuck back in before the rest. “Twenty minutes,” he said. “I couldn’t stand to be away any longer.”

  “If I know Drew—and I do—he’ll preach at least thirty.”

  Hung smiled at me.

  “They can be overwhelming, huh?” I asked him.

  “Your aunt sang ‘Silent Night.’ I can see why she’s called Aunt Rumble. The whole room vibrated. It’s cool she’s sung at the Met. You told me that. Do you remember? You told me you didn’t inherit any of the singing talent. I want you to sing for me in person anyway… our song. You promised.” He sat on the edge of my bed and took my hand. “We had so many conversations. My profile picture… my dog’s name… Paws… not Muffin. And my name…. Bart Durden…. You know how much I love The Simpsons and Fight Club.”

  “The book… not the movie,” I said.

  Hung tightened his grip. “I need you to wake up. The doctor says it could happen any minute.”

  “Or not.”

  “I need you to know who I am, to remember how many months we talked. I came home from college that August ready to take on the world, and then I hid like a child the moment my father denounced me. Even if Yeye didn’t know until recently he was talking about me when he bashed gay people, Baba did. Now both do. I have my own place. It’s small. It smells. I work at CVS when I’m not chasing news stories, or drawing, or walking dogs.”

  “You have a way… that’s why Red obeyed you that day.”

  “I’m maybe going to teach art. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that. I’m not sure I could have gotten through it all back then without you and my mother. She was great—is—but you kept me going. You told me your grandfather wasn’t totally onboard when you came out, because of religion. It seems like you’ve gotten over that hurdle.”

  “Thanks to Drew. He interprets the Bible differently than Granddad’s other minister. ‘It’s all in what you’re looking for it to say,’ Drew always points out.”

  “I like Drew. I hope I get a chance to know him better. I hope… I hope a lot of things.” Hung brought my hand to his lips, stopping just short of kissing it. “So many serious nights we had. And silly nights. Two people can’t fall in love on Twitter and Facebook.”

  “I think they can.”

  “But I think they can. I know I did.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m sorry I ran scared. It’s happening all over again… my feelings for you… if it ever stopped. Part of me wants to bolt this time too. I’m pretty insecure… and not sure I’m ready. Am I even… man enough… if I can’t stand up to my family…?”

  “Four-H… that’s bullshit. You stood up to them. You told your father who you are a long time ago, and now your grandfather, despite knowing his prejudices. The rest is up to them. It’s time for you to live.” I truly wished he could hear me, though maybe he didn’t have to.

  “But meeting you in person, learning even more about you from these tweets and posts, from your family… the way they adore you, the bond…. Noel, I have to give it a shot.” He kissed my hand then, and afterward, my forehead. “I love you.”

  “You do?” a tiny voice asked.

  Hung jumped up. He spun around toward the hospital room door.

  “Emily.” She looked sadder than any little girl should the day before Christmas.

  Hung approached her. “Does your dad know where you are, Emily?”

  “He needs to wake up. It’s Christmas tomorrow, and his birthday.”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t have to be Christmas. I don’t care if Santa comes. I just want God-dad to wake up.” Her face was stained with streaks from tears she had shed.

  “Me too.” Hung brushed a fresh one away from her cheek.

  “Then kiss him.”

  “Huh?”

  “You said you love him, so do it.”

  I smiled. Emily was bossy and I loved it.

  “I do,” Hung said. “I do love him.”

  “Me too,” Emily declared. “It didn’t work when I kissed him, but it will for you.”

  “I like how you’re thinking,” I told her.

  “A true love’s kiss….”

  “Sleeping Beauty….” Hung looked my way.

  “Do it, Four-H.” I was grinning so hard on the inside, it had to show. “Come on.”

  “It’ll work,” Emily insisted.

  Hung stepped closer. He took a deep breath and then leaned forward. I could feel his breath, and our lips were about to touch.

  “Emily? Are you in here?” It was Drew.

  “Damn it, Preacher Man!” I wanted to slug him. “Your timing really sucks.”

  “What’s going on?” My mother wasn’t far behind, and everyone else.

  “Mr. Liu was going to kiss him,” Emily said.

  “Why would you be kissing on my brother?” Once again, the siblings surrounded poor Hung like angry bees, Betsy leading the swarm.

  “Like in Sleeping Beauty,” Emily told her.

  “I’m not sure that will work, sweetheart.” My father put a hand on Emily’s sad, slumped shoulder.

  “I think it might.” Both Emily and I were willing to give it a shot.

  “The doctor said his responses were heightened. He’s not sure why he hasn’t awakened. Maybe….” Mom always did believe in alternative medicine. “It worked in that Sandra Bulldock movie… While You Were Asleep.” She believed in rom-coms too, whether she got the plot or the title right or not. “He’s definitely about to come back to us.” She straightened my covers, as if Hung kissing me while I lay in a messy bed would affect the outcome. “Anything that might speed that along….”

  “It’s faith, Daddy,” Emily said.

  That got to Drew, his daughter’s words, her pleading eyes. “It can’t hurt.” He looked toward the heavens.

  “Well, I….” Hung was hyperventilating. “I mean, for Emily…
I was going to try.”

  “Don’t chicken out on me now, Bart.” It was going to be difficult—choosing between the two nicknames.

  “Haven’t I always said things happen for a reason?” Mom asked. “If Sleeping Beauty came into our lives a couple weeks back, maybe this is why.”

  “I don’t know if I can… with everyone watching.”

  “We’ll turn our heads,” Bree said to Hung. She was the romantic.

  “This is stupid.” Betsy was more pragmatic.

  “What’s it going to hurt?” Granddad asked. He’d come a long way since telling me he didn’t think he would ever be able to get used to the idea of me bringing a man home for Christmas dinner.

  “I’m going to this year,” I said to him. “But I’m not waking up without that kiss.”

  Hung took another breath, and then he grasped my hand again. I tried to squeeze. I think he felt it. “I’m going to do this,” he whispered. “If you don’t want to kiss me, I suggest you wake up and tell me now.”

  I didn’t stir, even though I felt as if I could.

  “Okay. Here goes.”

  “Should we count you down?” my dad asked.

  “I think we’re being a little weird here,” Ned said.

  “You wouldn’t wake up for my kiss?” his wife asked him.

  “Now you’re in trouble, big brother.” I thought it. Nyle said it.

  “Sure I would,” Ned declared. “Do it. Five… four….”

  The others joined in. “Three, two, one….”

  Our lips met. Hung was gentle, and then he pressed harder. “Merry birthday,” he said. “I love you. Now wake up.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Wake up, Noelly.”

  Hung turned and looked at the family.

  “Do it again,” Emily said.

  Hung immediately obeyed.

  “Wake up, Noel. Come on. I love you.”

  “We all do. Wake up,” Nick pleaded.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.” Someone answered me! Nick did. “Hey! You did it,” he said, patting Four-H on the back.

  “You helped, Nick,” Hung told him, as a mass of Beebes crowded in closer.

  “I always thought four days without hearing your mouth would be heaven, bro.”

  “Back at ya, Neddy.” My tone was raspy. My throat was sore. “Four-H….”

  They practically shoved Hung forward, like a vertical mosh pit.

  “I love you too, Four-H. I heard you… and I know you’re Bart. I felt it, I swear, when we met up again right before this happened.”

  “Shh. Don’t strain your voice.”

  “Kiss me again.”

  “You’re already awake. And everyone is standing here.”

  “You did it in front of them before. With a family this big, someone’s always going to be watching.”

  Hung gave in to the request.

  “It’s better when I’m awake.”

  “It’s hard to keep doing it when you’re talking,” Hung complained.

  “How’s about I shut up, then.”

  “Aww.” The Beebe Christmas choir sang out in approval as we kissed one more time.

  5

  WITH PASSING grades from the doctors concerning my motor skills and senses, I was allowed out Christmas morning. “We have two MDs and three RNs in the extended family,” Mom had told the attending physician. “We won’t leave him alone for a second.”

  I had no doubt that was true.

  “Let’s dole out all my flowers to people who are stuck here,” I said, as a different doctor, one wearing a Santa hat, checked my vitals one last time. “My notoriety has my room looking like an entrant in next week’s Tournament of Roses Parade. But get the names so I can thank everyone.”

  “I’m throwing these out.” Drew snatched up an arrangement by its bow. It was just him and Hung. They were in charge of delivering me back home. Everyone else had gone on ahead. “The one’s from the protestors who put you here—and their apology note…” Drew dropped them in the tiny trash can, causing it to fall over. “Screw thanking them.”

  “It wasn’t intentional. The jerkiness, maybe. The collision, not so much. Try to find that forgiveness you teach, Preacher Man.”

  “Bed. More than anything else for a few days,” my physician ordered, before he signed the final release papers.

  “This is where you come in again.” Drew offered Hung a pat on the back. “I sensed something between you two that first day, you know… with the baseball. It’s pretty cool you turned out to be the guy from Twitter and Facebook.” Drew knew all about me and my online love affair. “Man, he had it bad for you.”

  “Like Noah said, how could I not?” Hung asked.

  “He’s got the names down,” Drew said, obviously amazed. “He’s a keeper.”

  “I said that—I thought it—back when you guys couldn’t hear me. And I thought he was amazing pretty quickly when I thought we were meeting for the first time. It sort of felt… at least here and there… like we weren’t strangers.”

  “I knew him.”

  “And my heart knew you,” I said.

  Drew rolled his eyes.

  “Hey! So my prose needs some work. I just came out of a coma. Cut me some slack.”

  WE ARRIVED at my parents’ house a short time later. Hung had followed in his own car. I kept looking back to be sure he didn’t turn off and flee in the other direction. Leaning on both men for support, I reached for the doorknob.

  “Surprise!”

  The force of the sound nearly knocked me back down the steps—that and Red’s raucous greeting. He’d been staying with my parents while I’d been out cold. “Good thing I’m not coming home from a heart attack.” The sight I saw as I petted Red joyfully took my breath away. Every December—including this one, last I knew—candy canes and ribbon dangled from the ceiling fan, the mantel was adorned with so much greenery one could no longer see wood, and three Christmas trees—three that were full-size—were put up and trimmed. There was always one in the living room in all red and gold, one in the family room decorated with handmade little Beebe original art that had somehow been preserved over decades, and one in the dining room done in white lights, tea cups and silver snowflakes. None of that was there now.

  “What happened to Christmas?”

  Every pine needle, shiny ball, mini light, and puff of fake snow? Gone. Even the mistletoe I imagined kissing Hung under, though I’d seen it go up the day after Thanksgiving, had somehow disappeared. There were balloons and streamers instead, and a Happy Birthday sign, each of its letters a different foil color, stretched across the archway. A four-tier cake sat in the center of the dining room table where the old cardboard sleigh we had used as a Christmas card holder for years was supposed to be. At least the usual yuletide guests had assembled, along with Laurie and some others from the restaurant. There were also more Tinkers than I had seen in a while.

  “Why aren’t all of you home enjoying Christmas?” I asked.

  “We’re trying something different,” Mom said haughtily.

  “Oh.” I reached for the wall for support.

  “Oh dear. Let’s get you on the couch.” She snapped her fingers, and four Beebe men were at my side. “Noelly can celebrate lying down.”

  “I’ve been lying down for days. I can stand up for five minutes.”

  “We won’t stay long, but we’re here for you,” Laurie said. “Because we love you.”

  “And I appreciate it, but….”

  “Should we open presents first, or cut the cake?” my father asked.

  “I say we sing.” That was Aunt Rumble’s answer to everything. “Happy birthday to—”

  I cut her off when she took a breath. “I don’t want to try something different. Well, I kind of do. December thirtieth….” I had to stop for breath myself.

  “I think the boy should lie down,” Grandad said.

  “I’m starting to feel it. I think I should. Listen… maybe every
one who doesn’t live here can go to their own house, have Christmas, and then come back in five days for my birthday, like we did sometimes when I was a kid. We’ll… we’ll have both. I hope I’m not being rude. Laurie… Rafe, Ben… my fellow kitchen minions…. Your families are missing you. I get what everyone is doing. And I started it by being ungrateful.”

  “No, sweetie.” Laurie caressed my cheek.

  “I got my moment in the spotlight for the year already, between hashtag ChristmasHatesYouToo and everyone staring at me in the hospital as Hung and I shared our first kiss. As far as I’m concerned, we can just forget I even have a birthday this year.” No one budged. “Drew…. Natalie… come on. How much time do you get to spend alone as a family? How many Christmases have you had off together in the past three since Victoria was born and once Preacher Man got to come home?”

  “This is the first,” Natalie admitted.

  “Then get the f—fudge…. We’ll make fudge and cookies, me and my sous chefs, Emily, Rose, and Vicky Lynn on second Christmas. We didn’t get to it the day before Christmas Eve, but we will.”

  “Yay!” Emily gave the best hugs.

  One by one, my coworkers and Drew and his family followed her lead. Then some of my family departed, even the siblings with kids, all leaving their loot for another day. We were down to about eleven people when the doorbell rang. I had my foot on the bottom step by then, ready to head upstairs. “Merry birthday, Noel!” That was when Ethan burst through the unlocked front door, fashionably late, like the big star he was destined to become. He sported sunglasses to protect him from unwanted attention. Naturally, he took them right off, wanting all the attention he could get. “I was supposed to be the comatose one, not you!” He threw his arms around me.

  “Hey, Ethan.” I didn’t know what to say. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I told you I’d see you for your birthday,” he said as he released me.

  “He’s the one who’s going to be on TV?” Mom asked, staring at Ethan as if he was an actor on one of her favorite soaps. “The one you went out with?”

  “That’s him,” I said with a smile.

  “But it didn’t work out.” Hung took my hand.

  “Aww.” All at once, they all did it again.