by Drew Hunt
“Although we’ve plenty of food in, I want to get a few more special items. I want to make this a Christmas to remember!”
Mark had walked into the kitchen by this point and put his arms around me. “It already will be because you’ve agreed to share your home with me.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed. Originally I hadn’t planned on doing much of a Christmas meal for just me. I’d bought a piece of turkey breast and a tiny foil-wrapped carton of stuffing. “I plan to do a large supermarket shop. I was going to walk up to Tesco, load myself up, and get a taxi back, but if you want to come, I don’t mind. Otherwise I could ask Mary if she’d come round this evening and keep you company.”
“I’ll come with you. It doesn’t seem fair to put Mary out.”
“She won’t mind. She’d enjoy spending the evening with a good looking man.”
Mark blushed.
“Though on second thoughts, she did say she’d have her father’s car for the early part of this week. I wonder if she’d take us to the supermarket? Believe me, that girl lives to shop. I swear her motto is ‘When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping’.”
Mark chuckled.
“Okay, then. Ring her up and see what she says.”
“Going shopping with a couple of gay men, we’ll have a whale of a time,” was Mary’s response over the phone when I asked for her help.
“Don’t stereotype. Not all gay men enjoy shopping.” I also asked her if she wanted to stay for the evening and have supper with us.
“I’d love to. Since Jerry left, I’ve just been pining away at home.” She laughed.
“Yeah, right.”
“Well, my honour couldn’t be in danger with you two, could it?”
“I think you’ll be safe with us. You can help decorate the house as well if you’ve a mind to. You know what I’m like up a step ladder.”
“Course I’ll help. Though you’d have thought a couple of gay men wouldn’t need any help with decorating.”
“Don’t start all that again,” I laughed.
“I’ll come round about six. Be ready to shop, shop, shop!”
I groaned, said ‘goodbye,’ and hung up.
Going back into the kitchen, I related most of the conversation to Mark. “And if you think this morning’s shopping expedition was tiring, just wait until you’ve seen Mary in action.”
“I feel a headache coming on.”
“Wimp.”
* * * *
Mark and I sat exhausted but very happy in the back of Mary’s dad’s car.
“Phew, I didn’t think we’d ever get out of those shops alive!” Mark wiped his brow with his hand, then looked down, obviously forgetting his bandages.
“You men just don’t have any staying power,” Mary announced.
“I bet Jerry knew what he was doing when he took up that place on the field trip. If he could see us now he’d be laughing his socks off,” I put in.
“Yeah,” Mary admitted, “whenever I take him shopping, he hides in a record shop till I’m finished.”
“Wise man,” Mark said.
Mary looked in the rear view mirror and stuck out her tongue at Mark. We all laughed.
Pulling up in front of our house, we piled out of the car, and Mary and I carried in a frighteningly large amount of groceries: yet more decorations to add to the ones we’d bought earlier that day including an outdoor snowman and Father Christmas. I hadn’t been able to decide which to get, so Mary had persuaded me to buy both.
“I’ll go and put the kettle on. That’ll give you two a chance to talk about me behind my back,” I announced when all the groceries had been put away.
“What makes you think you’re such an interesting topic of conversation anyway?” Mary asked.
“I’m deeply wounded.” I mock limped to the kitchen.
This caused the other two to laugh. I got the drinks together on a tray and brought them back into the living room.
“Shhh, he’s coming back in,” Mary said as I entered.
“You see, you were talking about me.”
“No, we just thought we’d wind you up a bit,” Mark told me.
“It didn’t work. After two rounds of shopping in one day, I’m too knackered to be wound up.”
“Yeah, thank god it’s only once a year,” Mark said. Though I noticed he said it with a wistful expression.
“You two. That was nothing! If I’d have had more time, I’d have driven you to Leeds, and then you’d have had something to complain about.”
“Thank god for small mercies,” I said.
Once we’d drunk our coffee, and recovered sufficiently, Operation Tinsel was put into effect. We trimmed the tree, including the angel which Mark had picked out. We had coloured paper streamers across the ceiling, white Christmas lights were pinned all around the front window, and I had managed to connect Father Christmas and the snowman to the electricity, placing them on either side of the front door.
Once everything had been done, I collapsed onto the couch between Mark and Mary. “Bloody hell, I’m totally bushed now.”
“Well done.” Mark put his arm around me and kissed me on the lips. I was a bit surprised he’d do this in front of Mary, but I was overjoyed that he did.
“Thanks.” I kissed him back.
Mary cleared her throat.
“You still here? Um, I mean, would you like to stay for a bite of supper, or do you need to get home?”
She rolled her eyes, then looked over at the mantle clock. It was a little after ten. “I better go. Some of us have work in the morning.”
“Aw, my heart bleeds. Just think of Mark and me cuddled up in bed tomorrow morning, enjoying a lie in, while you’re battling your way to work.”
“Lucky sods!”
“I know I’m very lucky,” Mark said, staring into my eyes.
“Not as lucky as me,” I whispered just before kissing him.
“Euw. You soppy sods,” Mary said.
“You’re just jealous,” I told her.
“I am, I am,” she said, getting up to leave. “I’ll no doubt see you two again before Thursday?”
“Yeah, probably.” I managed to tear myself away from Mark’s green eyes and perfect smile.
Putting her hand on the door knob, Mary said, “Behave yourselves.”
“We’ll try,” Mark laughed.
“I’ll see you to your car,” I told Mary.
Mary unlocked her car door and looked at me.
“What?”
“You know that he loves you, don’t you?”
I swallowed. “I hope so, because I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do him. I just can’t tell him, in case you’re…I’m wrong.”
“Oh, Simon.”
“I’d hate to think he felt he had to pretend to be in love with me just to stay.”
“It’ll all work out, you’ll see.” Mary gave me a hug.
I sighed. “Hope so.”
“Speak to you again soon.” She touched my cheek before getting behind the wheel.
I watched the tail lights disappear down the street, hoping Mary was right about Mark loving me.
Putting on a happy face, I walked back into the house.
“Now then,” I said to Mark. “I prescribe a bite to eat, a bath, and then bed. Any objections?”
“None at all.”
“I bought some muffins this evening. What do you say to toasting one on the fire and spreading it thickly with butter, so it’ll run down your chin as it melts?”
“Sounds like heaven on earth.”
We spent a wonderful evening sitting by the fire, toasting muffins, listening to Christmas music on the radio and enjoying each other’s company.
Chapter 8
Tuesday and Wednesday—the latter being Christmas Eve—flew by. We spent our time walking, talking, eating, sleeping, and cuddling. If it were possible, my love for Mark just grew and grew. More than once during those two days I found my mouth opening with the words ‘I love you
,’ on the tip of my tongue. I always managed to stop myself just at the last second though. Imagine if Mark couldn’t say the words back. That would certainly be the ideal recipe for a miserable Christmas. I knew I was facing a frustrating holiday, due to my reluctance…my fear…to be open and honest with Mark, but it would be off-set—in part—by ensuring Mark got a happy one. The last two he had faced hadn’t been pleasant affairs. There was no way I was going to ruin this one for him.
Maybe I could tell him how I felt sometime in the New Year, if the right circumstances came up. I knew this was procrastination on my part. However, all my private sufferings would be worth it to see his happy, smiling face.
At about 6 o’clock on Christmas Eve the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Simon,” Mary said. “Mum and Dad are going to Midnight Mass at St John’s. They were wondering if you and Mark would like to come along. We can pick you up and bring you back again.”
“Erm. I don’t know. Hang on a tick, I’ll ask Mark.” I turned to him and related what Mary had said.
“I’m not much of a churchgoer, but yes…yes I think I’d like to go if you would.”
“Mary,” I said into the phone, “we’d love to come.”
“Great. We’ll pick you up about ten-thirty.”
“We’ll be ready. And say thanks to your parents from us, will you?”
“Sure, see you later. Bye.”
I hung up. “You sure you’re all right about it?” I asked Mark.
He nodded. “It’ll be nice to get back to the real meaning of Christmas. I like all the shopping and everything, but it’s too easy to forget what it’s really all about.”
“Wow, that’s deep.”
“Sorry,” Mark laughed.
* * * *
The time drew near for Mary’s parents to pick us up. Mark and I had gotten dressed in warm—but smart—clothing. Neither of us wore a tie. I had several, but as Mark didn’t, I thought it’d be inappropriate for me to put one on.
Buttoning up Mark’s coat, I said, “You never know how well those places are heated.” I laughed apologetically. “Sorry, I must sound like your mother.” Then I realised what I’d said. “Oh, no! Sorry, Mark. What an insensitive thing to say.”
“It’s fine.” He smiled. “In some very cute ways you act a bit like mum did. I like it.”
I wasn’t convinced.
“Simon, it’s fine, honestly.” He touched my cheek with his bandaged hand.
“I know I get a bit carried away with myself sometimes. Just give me a smack up the side of the head when it gets too much.”
Mark laughed. “Well, any smacking will have to wait till these come off.” He moved his bandaged hands higher.
“Shit, have I done it again?”
“No, no, not at all.” He closed the distance between us and gave me a reassuring hug.
A few minutes later a car horn sounded. Looking out of the window I saw that it was Mary and her parents.
* * * *
It was a bit of a tight squeeze on the backseat of the car, but I wasn’t about to complain about being pushed up against my best friend and the man I loved.
The service was great. We got to sing plenty of my favourite carols. The biggest surprise of the evening however, was Mark’s voice. My god—whoops, shouldn’t have thought that in church—but it, Mark’s voice I mean, was beautiful. I shivered hearing it. I wondered if he had taken lessons.
The vicar centred his address on the phrase ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to ALL men.’ He seemed to put a stress on all. I’d no idea if he included gay men in that ‘All’, but I chose to believe he did and drew comfort from it.
Although communion was celebrated, neither Mark nor I had been confirmed so we didn’t go up to receive it. That didn’t seem to matter though, because there were lots of people who stayed in their pews, too.
The final carol was Hark the Herald Angels Sing, my absolute favourite. I raised up my totally out of tune voice. It felt so liberating to belt out such a triumphal hymn.
I thanked the vicar for his sermon and shook his offered hand just before leaving the church. I turned to see Mark give the cleric a salute with his bandaged right hand. In return the vicar patted Mark’s shoulder.
When we got outside, we found to both Mark’s and my delight it was gently snowing.
“A white Christmas, it couldn’t be more perfect!” Mark said, blinking rapidly.
I pulled him to one side. “Would you rather we walk home? It isn’t all that far.”
“Could we?” He blinked some more.
I turned to Mary and her parents. I thanked them for the offer of a lift home, but told them of our decision to walk. After wishing them a Merry Christmas I watched them drive off.
Turning back to Mark I pulled him into a hug. We just stood there for the longest time, the snow softly falling on us. I could only recall one other white Christmas, and to be able to share this one with Mark was wonderful.
“Ready to go home now?” I eventually asked.
Mark nodded and let go of me.
“I don’t remember them forecasting snow,” I said as we started home.
“No, me neither.”
“That all goes to prove how special it is then.”
Mark was quiet for the rest of the journey home. I didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts. I had some pretty wonderful ones going round in my own head.
“We’re home,” I said, locking the front door. “Would you like a cup of cocoa or something?”
“No, it’s okay, thanks. If you’ll just help me in the toilet and undress me, I think I’ll turn in.”
“Yes, of course.”
Mark still seemed distracted. I didn’t feel as though I ought to question him on it, so I did the things he asked.
I wasn’t quite ready for sleep myself, so I told Mark I was going to make a hot drink, and would come to bed later.
I sat in front of the telly with my cup of cocoa. There was a discussion about the role of the church in modern society. It wasn’t all that interesting, but it helped me to relax. Eventually I realised it was time I hit the sack. So I performed my ablutions and crawled beneath the sheets next to an already sleeping Mark. He was on his back, so I wasn’t able to spoon in behind him. I lay still, excited about the happiness I hoped he’d find the next day. But eventually my thoughts settled and the sound of Mark’s soft rhythmic snores gently lulled me into dreamland.
Chapter 9
I awoke bright and early on Christmas Day. Perhaps this was a throwback to my childhood, when I’d start nagging my parents about 6 am so I could go downstairs and see what Santa Claus had brought me. Mark still lay peacefully sleeping on his back. I looked down at his untroubled face: the gentle curve of his lips, the slight closing of his nostrils as he breathed in. I couldn’t fathom why anyone could so much as think about hurting this angel. I don’t know how long I stayed propped up on one elbow looking at the face of my love, framed as it was by his pillow and the duvet. Eventually his breathing changed, and he began to blink.
“Hello,” he croaked.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” He gave me a weak smile.
“Do you want to get up yet?”
He shrugged. “Might as well start the day.”
As we went through our now familiar morning routine, I noticed that Mark seemed a bit distracted. I wondered if he was remembering the past two Christmases which hadn’t been pleasant for him. I kept my concerns to myself, thinking the best thing would be to just be there for him if he needed to talk. Hopefully the happy events I’d planned for the day would bring him out of his melancholy.
“Would you like breakfast?” I asked when we’d gone downstairs, and I’d lit the fire.
“No, it’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”
“I plan to have Christmas dinner ready for about two o’clock, would that be okay?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, thanks.”
I decided now
was as good a time as any to give Mark his gift. I went into the kitchen and pulled out the wrapped book from the back of one of the cupboards.
“I know you couldn’t get me a gift, but, because I wanted to make this year as special as I could, I got you a small something.”
“I did get you a gift.” He became animated for the first time that morning.
“Oh, how? I mean—”
“Mary helped me pick it and she wrapped it. It’s at the back of that drawer.” He pointed to a deep drawer under the video shelves. I put his gift on his knee while I went to retrieve mine.
“Wow, this is such a surprise,” I said when I’d found the wrapped package and brought it back to the sofa where Mark was sitting. “Can I open mine first?” I asked in a child-like voice.
Mark smiled. “Of course.”
It was a recording of Handel’s Messiah I’d been wanting for a while now, but thought it a bit extravagant to spend so much money on myself. “Oh, Mark, it’s great, how did you know I wanted this?”
“I asked Mary.”
“Yes, of course. Thanks.” I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Now, do you want me to open yours for you?”
“Please.”
I unwrapped the book while it was still on his lap. “It’s not very exciting, I’m not much good at picking out presents.” I pulled back the paper to reveal the leather-bound volume. “I wrote something inside. I hope you like it.” I lifted the cover to reveal the inscription so Mark could see.
My dearest Mark
I hope you can forget your own personal ghost of Christmas past.
Instead let’s both think about our Christmases present and yet to come.
Simon, Christmas 1986
Mark stared at the book for the longest time. I saw his shoulders had started shaking. He was crying. What had I done wrong? Had I inadvertently made his memories of previous Christmases worse? He looked up at me and wiped his eyes on his bandages. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. He closed it again, swallowed and then began to speak.
“Simon, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold this in any longer.” He got up from the sofa and came and knelt down in front of me. He put his bandaged hands on top of mine. “Simon, please, please don’t say anything until I’ve finished. Okay?”
