Hard Truths

by Alex Whitehall

  “It’s actually a gift card in an empty DVD case that I’ll need back, so the joke’s on you!”

  “Hah! I’m totally using that next year.”

  Finally my mom finished handing out presents and returned to her seat, and we—as we did every year—each opened a gift from youngest to oldest before it became a free-for-all. As excited as I was to open my presents and watch my family open what I’d bought them, my eyes kept being drawn to Logan as he unwrapped what we’d gotten him. The first thing was a simple jewelry box with a gift card to Dunkin’ Donuts, and the second was a box of hot chocolate mix with a Target gift card taped to it.

  As silly as those gifts were, he smiled and said thank you. He did this thing when he seemed a little embarrassed, where he rubbed the top of his head. I wanted to joke that he’d go bald if he did that too often, but then it’d be obvious I had been staring, so instead I kept staring as he opened my gift.

  Did I mention that it’s really hard to buy a present for someone you’ve never met, especially when your beloved sister’s idea of helpful hints is whatever and gift cards and he likes coffee—which explained my parents’ gifts to him.

  Mine weren’t much better. I’d gotten him a high-end bag of ground coffee that I loved—and saved for my weekend cups so I could truly savor it, because damn it was pricy—and a mug that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but with my parents sitting here watching, I was beginning to second-guess giving it to someone I didn’t know.

  He pulled the mug out of the bag, took a second to read it, then burst out laughing. When he’d finished, he glanced up at me and his grin was bright enough to burn my retinas. “Thanks, it’s perfect. I love foxes.”

  Warmth flooded through my veins, and I was about ready to break out in a sweat.

  “What is it?” my mom asked, and I prepared for the worst.

  “It’s a mug from Isaac.” He held up the mug that read For [image of a fox] sake. “I don’t know how he knew I liked foxes, but thanks.”

  My mom’s brow scrunched, and I could see her struggling to figure out the mug. I hoped she never would. To that end, I distracted her by thanking her for the button-down she’d gotten me. It didn’t matter that I only wore them at work or when visiting on the holidays—at least it meant I rarely had to go out and buy my own. She didn’t believe in toys or fun things as presents now that we were adults.

  My sister, on the other hand, had bought me an anime series called Kids on the Slope, which my mom would probably think was a children’s show because it was animated. I was fine with her thinking that, or else she might start wondering about shows Sue’d gotten me previous years.

  Finally all the presents were opened and shuffled out of the way. My dad settled in for his nap and turned the TV on, which cued my mom to invite the rest of us to the tiny kitchen table for a game of cards.

  And that was when it happened.

  I wasn’t sure how we ended up there, but my mom and Sue were in the kitchen down the hall and around the corner. Coming back from the bathroom, I was passing Logan in what had suddenly become a narrow hallway. Well, his shoulders were really broad.

  I stopped and turned sideways, back to the wall so we’d fit, and then he was standing in front of me, far closer than necessary, not touching me but not arm’s-length away, and damn he was tall and fit.

  And smiling in a way that was not sweet or innocent at all. “Thanks for the Christmas presents. I very much appreciate it.”

  He totally casually put out a hand against the wall, pinning me from continuing toward the kitchen.

  I swallowed, and heat flooded my face and other places not my face. “Hey, sure. I mean, we—I want you to feel welcome if my sister’s serious about you.”

  His chuckle was downright dirty, and I swore he leaned in a little closer. “Honestly? I liked the mug, and your sister’s sweet, but I’d rather be unwrapping you this Christmas.”

  In case I hadn’t gotten his implication—which I absolutely had—his hand touched my hip, slipped over my ass, gave a squeeze for good measure, and was gone just as quickly. Then I was alone in the hallway, not sure when he’d vanished, trying to get my racing heart under control.

  Had that really happened? Had that really fucking happened? Sue’s boyfriend had hit on me? In my parents’ house. On Christmas. With my sister a stone’s throw away. Oh god. I had to tell her. I had to let her know before they got any more serious. Maybe he was joking. Maybe it was a misunderstanding—although I wasn’t sure how I could misinterpret his hand on my ass. Maybe they had an open relationship?

  But how many relationships were open enough to involve one person fucking both siblings? I definitely didn’t want to fuck a guy that was fucking my sister.

  Well, I wanted to fuck the guy, but not if he was fucking my sister.

  Christmas dinner was sitting like a lava lamp in my stomach.

  I whipped out my phone and flipped to my sister’s text thread. Um, your boyfriend grabbed my ass.

  Probably not the most eloquent, but I was still standing in the hallway rubbing where his hand had been, and I might not have been getting enough blood to my brain to formulate coherent thoughts.

  My phone pinged.

  Did you like it? she replied.

  Did you read what I fucking wrote? Your boyfriend hit on me! I hoped she could sense how hard I was hitting those digital keys.

  Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later about it. Come back and play cards. Mom is trying to both tell me to break up with Logan and to have a boyfriend, and it’s painful.

  I stared at her text long enough that Logan passed me in the hall again on his way back to the kitchen. He didn’t stop and grope me—no, I wasn’t disappointed—but moved along like nothing had happened.

  And my sister was telling me not to worry about it. I was starting to question her relationship with Logan. Mostly in all caps as internet abbreviations, like WTF, WTH, and OMG.

  I followed Logan to the kitchen and my family and the cards. The only open seat was the one across from him. I wanted to glare at Sue, as if this was her fault, but sat instead. A few seconds later, I realized his feet bumping into mine under the table earlier hadn’t been an accident.

  “So what game do you want to play?”

  “Poker’s the only one I’m familiar with,” Logan said. Because of course. He winked. “And we could make it interesting.”

  “I, um, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” my mom said, and I agreed.

  Mostly because Strip Poker With Logan was the sole game on my mind, and that was so horribly inappropriate that the shock of my own thoughts was the only thing keeping my boner in check.

  “Blackjack?” Logan suggested.

  Sue laughed and bumped her shoulder against his. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you Kings in the Corner.”

  What followed was a surprisingly tame, enjoyable game of Kings in the Corner. Logan cut back on lewd comments and shifted to fake betting, commenting on his homies, and making another reference to having been in prison.

  My mom got quieter and quieter as the game continued.

  I, on the other hand, kept studying Logan and Sue and was beginning to pick up on other things. Like how they weren’t being nearly as handsy now. Had Sue taken my warning to heart and gotten mad at him? But no, she hadn’t seemed concerned, and it wasn’t like she was pushing away his advances. Instead, over the course of the hour, they’d shifted from disgustingly cute couple in love to two friends hanging out with family.

  And then it dawned on me.

  Between games, I escaped to the bathroom so I could text her. Holy shit you brought a fake date to Christmas.

  Her response was delayed enough that I worried I’d have to leave the bathroom or else people would begin to suspect my intestines had exploded.

  But finally: I have *no* idea what you’re talking about ;)

  Holy shit. My sister had brought a fake date to Christmas.

  Which opened up a whole other set of ques
tions.

  Why? How did they meet? How did one go about finding a fake date for the holidays? HolidayHunkHunter.com? Why hadn’t she told me about this?

  Well, I reasoned, finishing up in the bathroom, if she had told me, I’d have wanted to bring someone. And that would have looked suspicious. Especially since I’d have brought a man, which would have opened more than a can of worms. Maybe it was best that she hadn’t told me after all.

  Back in the kitchen, I apologized for taking so long, but they’d given up on playing cards and were chatting while munching on cookies. Mom was mostly slaughtering a summary of a movie she’d seen—one I’d also seen but I wasn’t going to mention that.

  “I just don’t see why they had to make him gay. It had nothing to do with the plot,” she said at the end, a small frown sending a cascade of wrinkles down her chin.

  “They didn’t make him gay,” Sue said before I could.

  Not that I could have. My tongue seemed to have swollen and stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  “He simply was gay,” Sue continued. “That’s like saying ‘I wish they hadn’t made him black.’”

  “I didn’t say that!” Mom complained. “And anyway, that’s apples and oranges. It’s not like he could help being black.”

  A little more of me shriveled inside. Logan’s foot bumped against the instep of mine and didn’t move. Neither did I.

  Sue sighed. “Mom, people are born gay or not. It’s not like dying your hair. He was gay in real life, so they made him gay in the movie.”

  “But why did they have to flaunt it? It had nothing to do with the story!”

  “They didn’t flaunt it,” I finally managed. “They showed him with his boyfriend.”

  “Exactly! I don’t want to see that stuff when I go to the movies.”

  Sue arched a brow. “Were there explicit sex scenes? Because I thought it was rated PG-13.”

  “They kissed.” Mom sounded scandalized.

  “People kiss in movies all the time!” Sue kept her voice calm, but her hands did all the shouting.

  “But not those people!”

  I fought hard not to wince, and Logan’s foot rubbed against mine under the table, like a silent voice of support. Telling me he and my sister were both there for me. Well, the guy had groped me, so it only made sense. He’d better be on my side if he was . . . on my team.

  Wow, that even sounded stupid in my head.

  “Hey,” Logan said before my sister could respond with what, based on her expression, was likely going to be a heated retort, “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk politics at the table with guests.”

  He gave a friendly grin, as if he were a silly ol’ man who didn’t know etiquette, and Sue caught herself.

  “You’re right. Mom, we can talk about this later. Zacky—”

  “Oh god, don’t call me that.”

  “—you should tell Mom about that client who wanted everything in pink and purple with glitter accents.”

  So I did. It was a hilarious story—although it’d been endlessly frustrating at the time. It had ended up okay though: the client had realized that maybe there were benefits to not going overboard and that maybe her designers knew what they were talking about. We’d included all the main design features that she’d wanted without making the viewer want to stab themselves in the eyes. But the story got to be dramatic and over the top—exactly like the client had been.

  Everyone was laughing by the end, although Logan and Sue had already heard me tell the story—and with more cursing. At least it had changed the subject. Shortly after, Dad was awake and itching for pie, so we shuffled into the dining room and moved on with our day, the horrors of men kissing on-screen forgotten.

  That was the tricky part about being with family. It was easy to fall into the same patterns, to ignore what you didn’t like about each other, to put up with each other, because there was a basis of love. Or enough of it that continuing to follow those patterns was easier than stopping would be. It was why Sue and I came even though we disagreed with a lot of our parents’ thinking. It was why Mom and Dad didn’t disown Sue even though they’d always threatened to if she was sexually active before marriage. It was why they held their tongues—for today—about how disappointed they were in her bringing Logan to our family Christmas. I’m sure she’d get an earful later over the phone, but for now we all played nice.

  Which was how the day passed. Then it was time to go and we packed our cars with our presents. We all took turns hugging, giving me a chance to demand Sue explain everything to me later. I ended up getting a bear hug from Logan. Or it had seemed like it was going to be a bear hug, and from the outside it probably looked that way. From the inside, his groin was pressed against mine and he didn’t mutter Christmas greetings but directions.

  “Check your back pocket.”

  Then he released me and gave my parents the same great big hug—with less crotch contact, I hoped—and we piled into our cars and left.

  I had survived another Christmas. This one had certainly been an adventure, and I had a two-hour drive home to think about it. Not that it helped. By the time I pulled up to the curb in front of my condo, I still hadn’t figured much more out about Sue and Logan and all that had happened. Perturbed, I tried not to think about it anymore as I unloaded my car.

  It was only when I took off the jeans and pulled on sweats that I remembered Logan’s instructions. In my back pocket where he’d groped me, he had also slipped a business card with his name, contact information, and a web address, with Call me! scribbled across one edge.

  I stared at the card for a good long while, part of my brain trying to come to terms with the fact that this had come from my sister’s boyfriend—although most of me knew it had all been an act. Still, that wasn’t something I wanted to deal with tonight. My sister had a farther drive than I did, and I was exhausted. I set the card on the kitchen table, grabbed my tablet, and slumped on the couch to get lost in a book.

  Sue, Logan, and Christmas realizations could all wait until the next morning.

  I woke up with a food hangover, my mouth dry and my head begging for caffeine. I fell out of bed, shivering as the chill air hit my skin, pulled on my sweats and hoodie, and stumbled into the kitchen, where I’d thought far enough ahead last night to set the timer, and a cup of coffee was brewing for me.

  A true Christmas miracle. Along with not having work. Thank the powers that be for long weekends. I tossed a bagel into the toaster and slumped against the counter while I waited for everything to be ready.

  My gaze landed on the business card I’d left carelessly on the table, the white exceptionally bright this morning in the natural light. Or else my caffeine needs were critical. Either way, I was reminded of Logan and Sue and yesterday, and I searched for my phone.

  A text this morning from Sue: Call when you’re up.

  Command obeyed.

  “Morning, Isaac!”

  “Hey. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “Me? You’re the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off my boyfriend!” Her righteous indignation was so fake, I didn’t need her laughter to clue me in.

  I ignored what it meant that I’d been caught staring. “And that’s the first thing you need to explain, missy!”

  “Okay, okay. You’re sick of Mom harassing us about not having dates too, yeah?” She didn’t pause for me to answer. “So I was on this site and saw this dude offering up his services. Pretty much to be a date for someone to take to a holiday dinner. Good or bad, although you know which I wanted to shove in Mom’s and Dad’s faces. He was willing to be worse, but I said he could totally go low-key with it. Mom and Dad aren’t bad, yeah? Only kind of . . . unexposed. So I thought it’d be good if they faced everything they feared and had to play nice. And Mom wasn’t going to say anything with him there, so you and I would get out of it for a bit.”

  “And what did Logan—if that is his real name—get out of it?”

  “He’s got no
family and his friends were going through a thing this year—I didn’t ask for details—so he was gonna be alone for Christmas. Or maybe he wanted to avoid his friends’ Christmas, I dunno. This way he got company and dinner. And a new friend, because he is hilarious. We went on fake dates so we’d actually know each other, and he’s a blast!”

  I scoffed. “Maybe you’ll be dating him for real next year.”

  “Yeah, if he didn’t bat for your team, that might be an option.”

  My throat closed and my stomach clenched. The silence between us stretched, tightening the noose around my neck as I struggled to breathe and speak.

  “Sorry,” Sue said, her voice softening. “I shouldn’t assume. But, uh, I got the impression from some of your posts online that you were gay. And I probably should have said something. I’m sorry. I guess I wanted you to feel safe enough with me to tell me yourself, but that was kind of an asshole move. So, Isaac, I love you and it doesn’t matter if you’re gay. If you are, I want you to know that I’m a safe space.”

  “Thank you.” It was the only thing I managed to squeak out. Probably because I was too busy wiping tears from my cheeks. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Thank you. That means a lot. And yeah, you’re right, I’m gay.” I paused, then added, hoping for levity, “For all the good it’s done me getting a guy.”

  She giggled. “Well, Logan’s gay, if that helps.”

  “Listen, just because we’re both gay—”

  “And you were eye-humping him the whole day.”

  “—doesn’t mean we’re Noah’s fucking matched pair.”

  “I know. But he mentioned that you were hella cute.”

  I ignored the excited thump of my heart. “He actually said, ‘hella cute’?”

  “No, he said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me your brother was a hotter guy version of you?’ Which made me almost crash the car, so I was trying not to relive it.”

  My bagel popped, and I nearly dropped the phone. “So. Yes. Um.” I blamed my inability to form a sentence on the fact that I was trying to talk and butter a bagel and I still hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet.