by David Connor
* * * *
AC thought it a damned shame none of the 12 Drummers Drumming were named Christopher as he returned to the present. “I h-had some g-great art t-teachers all through s-school,” he said again, coming out of his memory. “Miss B-Berry in s-s-second g-grade, who f-first s-s-said I m-might b-be good, all the w-way to Mr. Dove in t-tw-senior year, who made m-me b-believe it.”
“And here Manny said you don’t talk much.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t stop.” Stone touched AC’s cheek again. “You’ll do it?” he asked.
“M-m-maybe.”
AC thought he could prepare his words written, as a handout, and then do some hands-on work with each student, or a demonstration requiring very little talking.
“Y-yeah. Maybe.”
“Cool.” Stone touched AC on the arm. “Way cool.” He made his way up to AC’s shoulder. “Super-duper cool!” He put his hand on AC’s thigh and left it there. “I’m touching AC Maughan!”
Chapter 11
Terrel: Two stars. Dark blue shirt. Baby Bear. Cute. Too young for me, though. Loud. Skinny kid, all arms and legs, with the face of a young Whitney Houston and the mouth of the Aflac duck. If I was into boys, maybe I could give him something else to do with it.
“Ooh, baby, it’s nippy out there.” Terrel fastened his seat belt long after the van was in motion. “And in here.” He looked down the collar of his shirt, and then reached up it from the bottom to rub a nipple with each forefinger. AC wondered if Terrel had a coat. They were up to the chilly Mid-Atlantic States now. He definitely needed a coat. “Crank that heat, mama.”
AC turned it up a notch as soon as he could take his hand off the wheel while maneuvering the twisty onramp.
“Mmm, aren’t we pretty? Any more of you at home?”
AC smiled. “I h-h-have five b-brothers.”
“Woo-wee, that’s a lot of hotness in one family. All clear my way,” Terrel said as they stopped at the first light on US 83.
AC took his word for it, and they were off. “Are y-you in c-c-college, Terrel?”
“High school.”
“C-cool. Wh-what’s your f-favorite sub-subject.”
“I graduated a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh. Con-con…W-way to g-go. How c-come you g-g-grad-graduated in D-d-December?”
“Wanted to get it over with. They don’t get me in high school.”
“Aww. C-c-college is m-more eclectic.”
“I hope so, boo,” Terrel said quietly. Then he went silent.
“D-d-do you h-have b-brothers or sis-sisters?” AC asked after a while. He wondered what had brought on the change.
“A sister,” Terrel told him. “We do everything together. We did, at least, until she got herself engaged to the boringest man on the planet.” He fanned himself.
“Oh?” AC wondered if he’d made it too warm.
“Get this. Tyesha says I can be her maid of honor, right? Then, Mr. Dull and Suity says, uh-uh, no way. I just got off the phone with her. See, I had the most beautiful cape all picked out to go with my tux. It’s not like I was gonna put on a dress or something. And even if I was, fuck him! My sister and I are tight.”
“S-so, h-how did it wor-work out?”
“Tyesha has my back. She promises I’ll get to be up there, long as I don’t ride in on a unicorn in a rainbow fur coat. That’s what the fiancé said he’s afraid of. I’ma do it just out of spite. Wish I had me a unicorn.”
“Is h-he homophobic or j-j-just c-c-conservative?”
“That’s a good question, AC. He ain’t never treated me bad. He’s kind of fun, I hate to admit, when I get him and Tyesha by themselves. Had him all up in karaoke one night singing ‘Sissy That Walk.’ It’s the family, I guess. That’s what he says. ‘I don’t mind, but mumsie might be put off.’ That’s like homophobia once removed, right? Being embarrassed by a family member ‘cause they don’t come up to your frou-frou standards. Ain’t nobody got time for that, bitch. Sure, I’m too much sometimes, but I’m a fabulous too much. Maybe it’s just something else. It makes you feel like a pile of kitty crap either way. Can you imagine?”
AC could imagine. In fact, he remembered.
* * * *
“We’re getting married,” Montgomery announced Easter morning, just two years ago. He’d come down the stairs in a bunny suit to propose to Amy in front of everyone. Now, the smiling duo stood on the first two steps, chattering a mile a minute about their plans. AC, down on the floor with his parents’ dog, Indianapolis, sat up straighter. He knew an important question would be coming his way next. It was his turn. All of his other brothers had been best man for one another. Montgomery was the last to wed and AC’s only remaining chance to stand up for one of them.
“Bartholomew, my man.” Montgomery came the rest of the way down. AC was already on his feet, but Montgomery turned toward the couch. Before AC could even utter one syllable in disbelief, his betrothed brother and the would-be best man were in a clinch.
“I’d be honored,” Bartholomew said.
AC tried not to let it bother him while helping his little nieces and nephews look for hidden eggs, while eating breakfast, and while the brothers played miniature golf, like they did every Easter, even as they entered their thirties and forties. Now, there were little ones. Bartholomew had two sons. Sullivan had a little girl, and Gabriel was up to four already.
“Hey.” Montgomery took AC aside, once they’d both completed the course. He put AC in a very loose choke hold, playful and alpha male, all at the same time. “I just figured, you know, you wouldn’t want to make the speech. You’ll be up there, right beside me, baby bro. You just won’t have to say anything.”
Truthfully, AC was relieved not to have to make a speech. Insult was added to injury, however, during the Christmas Eve wedding reception singalong that December.
“Hey, bro.” When Montgomery wrapped one arm around AC’s neck, AC recalled it being a prelude to bad news months earlier. He wondered what was coming this time. “We’re gonna do the songs now. I told the caterer I’d send you back to the kitchen to help with the meals, you know, so you don’t feel bad.”
“Oh.”
“Love you, bro.” Montgomery offered proof, a kiss atop AC’s stiffly moussed hair. “Looking out for ya.” He straightened the green and red plaid bowtie at AC’s neck, and then dusted off the lapels of their tuxes in turn. “Always.”
Montgomery probably did see it that way, but as AC stood at the country club’s kitchen door, looking out into the festively decorated hall all aglitter in tiny white lights woven through pine and ivory poinsettias, his lip quivered. Listening to the entire gathering sing “Joy to the World,” “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” and “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” he couldn’t stop the tears.
* * * *
“That happened to you?” Terrel asked after a brief synopsis of the event there in the van.
“Y-yes.” AC felt a lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe the memory still hurt, or that he had strung enough words together to tell Terrel the whole story.
“Damn! You need to have a talk with that brother, brother. Next time you see ol’ Monty, you go up to him and say, ‘Gurrrrl…’”
AC laughed. “I d-d-don’t think I c-c-can s-say that.”
“Sure, you can. Gurrrrrl…Say it.”
“G-g-gurrrrl.”
“Yas!” Terrel applauded without sound. “Again, bitch.”
AC had to stop laughing first. “G-g-gurrrrrl.”
“I’ma start saying it like you, if that’s okay,” Terrel said.
“G-go for it.”
“G-g-gurrrrrl.”
Now, they were both cracking up.
“You need to perform at their next anniversary party or something, like, ‘Gurrrrl, I’ma sing a solo right up in front of everyone no matter how long it takes. I’ma sing the entire score of Donna Summer: The Musical.’”
“B-b-bad G-g-gurrrrl.” AC was going to have to cal
m down to stay in his lane.
“There ya go! And I’ma ride in on that unicorn. I won’t spoil the wedding, but I’d do it at the rehearsal dinner, in a rainbow fur cape and nothing else…wearing eye makeup…and a hairpiece…throwing glitter.”
Every time Terrel added something, they laughed harder. AC hadn’t had so much fun with anyone in years. He’d had fun with all the drummers so far, and Terrel wasn’t finished.
“And twirling a fire baton.”
“Gurrrrl.” AC wasn’t either.
“You did it, bitch!”
“W-w-we’re g-gonna d-do it, Terrel,” AC said.
“We are?”
“Yes. I h-have h-horses.”
“And a unicorn?” Terrel asked.
“M-maybe the w-white one t-turns into a unicorn on C-Christmas Eve.”
“It is a magical time of year,” Terrel said.
AC agreed. “E-especially t-this year.”
Chapter 13
Murphy: Four stars. Maroon shirt. Mama Bear. Beautiful smile. Blond curls. Superhero body and face, sexy NY accent. Friendly. Mother or smother? He’s all over some of these guys. Is he a protector or trying to get with them? The murse I don’t mind, the big green ball earring I don’t get, though. Would have fucked him on JJ’s counter, right beside the doughnut cloche, but what would a guy like him want with me?
None of Murphy’s prior gregarious nature showed when he first climbed into the front seat beside AC.
“Our -f-final leg of th-the j-journey,” AC said as the GPS voice told them they were down to one hour, forty-seven minutes travel time before reaching their destination.
“Thank you again, AC.”
“I h-had f-fun, M-Murphy.”
“Good.”
“Th-thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Murphy kept his vision straight ahead.
“D-d-did you d-d-raw the sh-shortest straw?”
“To go last?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“We drew numbers. I just happened to get the twelve.”
“M-my fa-favorite part, other than the g-g-guys, is when we g-get off the ex-expre-highway and d-drive through l-little towns w-w-with dec-decorated houses. L-look at th-that one.”
There was snow here and there, too, on bare trees, pine trees, roofs of cozy-looking little New England houses, and white picket fence rails. It all looked so Christmassy. AC hadn’t had a northeast Christmas in years and hadn’t had much Christmas spirit long before that.
“Pretty.” Murphy opened his bag and started rooting in it. “I made you something.”
“Aww.”
“Here.” AC looked over, so Murphy could present him with a hand crocheted Christmas tree. “You needed something to hang from your mirror after you gave Em your cat.”
“Th-thank you. I l-l-love it.”
The tree was neon green with twelve tiny rainbow-colored ornaments and a star made from gum wrapper foil.
“The guys all worked on their own color. Teaching them how to make mini pom-poms with yarn and plastic forks…” AC’s peripheral vision caught Murphy’s smile and the side to side twist of his head. “But they did it. They did it for you. It’s a one of a kind Murphy Knowles original, a Twelve Drummers Drumming original.”
“I love it,” AC said again. “My s-sister-in-l-law w-works with yarn. H-hang it up. I c-c-can’t w-w-w-wait to thank the other g-guys.”
Murphy attached it to the rearview mirror. As big as his hand, AC figured the tree might be too large to leave there fulltime. Eventually, he’d hang it in his living room window, maybe put some lights around it. Maybe some tinsel garland or pine rope, too.
“I considered having someone else play Santa. I was going to give up my time up front altogether,” Murphy said. “Someone back there is…smitten. His word. Is there a more modern one that fits, I wonder.” He shrugged the notion away, then didn’t say anything else until they got all the way by an eighteen-wheeler to their right. “He might have enjoyed another two hours with you.”
“W-who?”
Murphy wasn’t smiling, like he usually did. “See, several guys were talking about stripping you naked and passing you around—with your permission, of course. They were ready to do it way back at the diner, as we packed up the van. Would you have been into that?”
AC was rather certain he would have jumped at the opportunity then, despite his off the cuff critiques. Now, things were different, because of them. “I’m n-not s-sure.”
“Ah.” Murphy nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with a nice one-time hookup. It can be hot, right?”
The way a giant air-blown Santa in someone’s front yard along the road had partially collapsed on top of a snowman, it looked like they were hooking up when the breeze made them shimmy. It provided a visual for the conversation that would have been hilarious, were AC not in the hot seat and feeling so shitty. “Yeah.”
Murphy ignored it. “We’ve had a dalliance here and there. The bus has been a-rockin’ more than once a winter as we crossed the US. Of course, not everyone was so taken with you.”
“No.”
“That’s just how things, go, right, AC? It can be instant dislike. Bada-bing.”
“D-d-dislike?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word.” Murphy thought up another way to say it. “Lack of a sexual attraction might be better, a ‘let’s be friends’ thing after a first date or a long conversation. We all get that.”
“T-true.”
“That’s human nature, I guess. The problem arises when someone’s feelings get hurt, because a guy blows them off after some five second superficial appraisal. Everybody loses. Rejecting a guy just for a physical trait or some other sort of affectation is really kind of shitty. Kind of shallow. You know what I mean, AC?”
“Y-yeah.”
“I think I’d be hurt if I found out someone shut me down immediately because of, I don’t know, because of what?”
AC squirmed.
“I would imagine spending a couple of hours with a person can change someone’s impression, if they give a guy a chance.” Murphy looked over. “I am a mama bear when it comes to my guys.”
“Fuck.” AC stared straight ahead.
“What’s that?”
“N-nothing.” AC had regretted putting the fucking pen to paper almost since the minute he’d done it. He knew he was an asshole. Now, it was time to sit there and take his licks, since Murphy had evidently found the notebook the night before, when he’d slept up in the cab.
“We’re marginalized all the time by others, like that JJ guy back in Texas. Why in fuck do we do it to ourselves?”
“I d-don’t kn-know.”
“Apparently, I’m a butterface. Butt-a-face. You know, as in ‘He has an okay body, but a face that’s ugly.”
“That’s ri-ri-ri-ridiculous.”
Murphy shrugged. “Maybe not. I ain’t no looker, like you.”
“S-stop.”
“I haven’t been here the longest, but the guys let me coddle them. I like that. I hope I’m not smothering anyone.”
“N-no. I d-d-d-don’t think th-th-that, now that I g-g-got to kn-kno-know ev-ev—all of you.”
“I’ve also been lucky enough to witness the start of a couple of promising romances over the years. So, when this one feller spoke up, suggesting something like that, we kind of put the orgy notion, still on the table as far as some were concerned, on hold.”
“I’m s-s-sorry.”
“A day ago, I’d have rushed right up to you, all smiles and giggles to reveal…” Murphy trailed off. “I wasn’t nosing through your glove compartment. I was looking for paper, ironically. I had something in mind up here.” He tapped his forehead. “I could have written it in my phone, but when I’m creating, I’m a pen and paper kind of guy. You should see the inside of my murse.”
“I l-like your b-b-bag. I c-c-c-can ex-exp-explain,” AC claimed.
“I don’t mean to upset you. It’s obvious I am. My earr
ing is my mother’s. She has Alzheimer’s. She remembers the earring, but not always me. She remembers how to crochet, but not always me. We do it together. Yoshi’s haircut? He let one of his patients go at it, some little boy who had half of his shaved for a procedure.”
“S-shit.”
“I’m gonna try not to lecture like a mama bear. I’ll just say, everybody has something they consider a flaw, an imperfection, a deal breaker. Are those the words you used at one point?”
“R-Rohan’s tooth. I f-f-fucked up.”
“Bada-bing. The end,” Murphy promised. “Except, I’ll also say this. I love my guys. And this; I think deep down you’re a pretty decent guy. And also; I tossed the notebook in the trash back in Ohio, because of that. If the guy that thinks he’s into you comes forward, it’s up to you what you do. Come clean. Don’t. If you end up hurting him, though, you’ll have eleven other guys lookin’ to put a hurt on you. Now, I’m really done.”
As corny as it would have sounded to say, AC didn’t feel like the same guy who’d made that stupid list. He wanted to explain how he’d done the rankings all in one sitting outside JJ’s before the trip even started. He wanted to apologize to all of them. AC felt he owed them that. He couldn’t wait to thank them with the little plans he’d cooked up, too, if they forgave him. That was secondary, though, to the lesson Murphy was presenting, which, even as lousy as AC felt, he also believed it was a moral he had learned on his own. He’d have sworn to that. The fact he’d been acting like an asshole for years, mostly because of his low opinion of himself while doing the same thing to others, was an epiphany.
How could he say all of that, though? So many words. AC still had over an hour to try and was going to do his best. He found the perfect ones to start with.
“I w-w-was a big jerk.”
Chapter 14
AC now: Three stars. Maybe there’s hope yet.
The organization that owned the venue the 12 Drummers Drumming would be playing at the next afternoon was putting them up in a small motel for the night. The place was aglow in multi-colored lights, all flashing at different times. AC, with Spud in his arms, noticed Rick glancing up into the illumination flaring out from the streetlamp in one corner, instead, to watch a flurry of snowflakes wildly spinning and twisting in an easy breeze.
