The Santa Mug Read online

  “Um, hello? What about me?” Max chided his father.

  “Like I said. Nothing for support. You’re too skinny,” Carl said.

  Darren laughed. “I think you’ve got a conspiracy on your hands, Max.”

  Max glared at his father. “I think you’re right.”

  “Why don’t you boys get yourself settled in, then hustle on back. Dinner will be ready soon, and we can catch up.”

  Max nodded. “Okay. I’m going to put us up in mine and Mark’s old room, assuming Ma hasn’t turned it into a sitting parlor or something.”

  Emily turned to face the two young men. “I did hang those lovely lace curtains with the yellow flowers. I thought they’d make a nice touch.”

  “Ma! You didn’t, did you?” Max sounded genuinely alarmed.

  “Hurry back, dear. We don’t want the roast to dry out, waiting for you,” Emily turned back to the stove.

  “All right, Ma.” Max sounded dubious, but he nudged Darren out into the living room. As they gathered their luggage and headed up the stairs, Max said, “That means she doesn’t want us fooling around before dinner.”

  “What?” Darren nearly dropped his suitcase. “Do they think we’re a couple?”

  “Probably, but not because of anything I said.” Max nodded to the left when they reached the top of the stairs. “Just something in her tone of voice when I told her I wanted to have you over for Thanksgiving, that’s all.” He pushed open a door and groaned. “God, she really did hang those nasty curtains. I thought she was joking.”

  Darren followed Max in and set his suitcase down alongside one of two twin beds. “They’re pretty awful,” he agreed. He dropped his overnight bag on the nearest bed and sat down heavily.

  Max landed his gear as well and began poking around in drawers and closets. “Man, I can’t believe she kept all this stuff,” he said, holding up a battered catcher’s mitt. “I used this in Little League.”

  Darren looked up. “It’s hard to picture you as a jock, even at that age, but you’re changing the subject. Why would your parents think we were a couple?”

  Max dropped the mitt back into the drawer and closed it. He crossed the room and sat down on the opposite bed to face Darren. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “Well, did you say something to them?”

  “Of course not, Darren. Get real. I think it’s just the fact that I wanted you to come here, especially after I’ve been gone for so long.” Max looked down at his hands. “As open and accepting as they are, I think they still have some antique notions of how ‘the whole gay thing’ works.” He laughed ruefully. “Either that, or they simply expect it because of the thundering horde and their myriad of spouses and children.”

  “Max, why did you invite me here?” Darren laid back and stared at the ceiling. Paper stars and moons, probably pasted up at least two presidents ago, which no doubt still glowed in the dark, dotted the rough woodwork. “I mean, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I like you and all, but we’ve never done anything like this before. Why now?”

  Max also laid back and stared at the same stars. “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to lie?”

  “The truth, obviously,” Darren snapped. He felt unaccountably tired. Tired of struggling though another holiday season, tired of being on his best behavior, and tired of Max. Maybe him worst of all, because for as well as they knew each other, he really didn’t know what made Max tick. And that made him tired of his own stupid ego for never having bothered to find out.

  “Marlon.” Max dropped the name quietly between them, yet it hovered like an ominous cloud, threatening to spill its wrath.

  “What about him?” Darren spoke softly, his voice as cold as winter ice. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” Max said, his voice flat. “We were all there, Darren. All your friends, all the people who care about you were at the funeral. Then, for four years, we shut up. Never mentioned his name around you, never said or did anything that might upset you, and after a while things were better. Except during the holidays. Then you’d fall back into those same old patterns, pushed us away like we were last year’s canned ham, and we let you. I let you.” Max sat up and stared hard at Darren’s face. “Maybe I should have said something sooner. All I know is that I couldn’t bear to watch you curl in on yourself again and wonder if this was the year I’d lose you for good.”

  Darren draped one arm over his face, shutting out his view of the little stars on the ceiling and the sight of Max’s earnest, comfortable face. In the darkness behind his eyes, anger overtook him. A potent rage born of the fact someone dared try to usurp his right to grieve. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” he said coldly.

  “Really? Really, Darren?” Defiance abbreviated Max’s words and gave each a razor’s edge. “Well, here’s a news flash for you: Marlon was my friend, too, in case you’ve forgotten. I introduced you to him, for Christ’s sake! All that I have left of him is in you, and I miss him.” Max got up and crossed the room. He paused at the doorway and turned. “I miss him, Darren. And you.” He sighed when Darren said nothing. “I’m gonna go eat. Come down if you feel like it, or I’ll bring you a plate later.” When Darren still said nothing, Max sighed again and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Beneath the crook of Darren’s arm, his eyes streamed with silent tears. I miss him, too, Max. You have no idea how much.

  4

  “They were pretty much inseparable until Marlon died.” Max picked at his plate. “That was four years ago, Christmas Eve.”

  Emily gasped. “Oh, those poor boys. That’s terrible.”

  Max nodded. “Yeah, I know. Darren pretty much withdrew from the whole world for a long time after that.” He pushed his plate away and sipped his coffee instead. “It took him about a year before he decided to rejoin the human race.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t his decision, Max.” Emily spoke softly. “Grief is a powerful thing, and people respond to it differently.”

  “I know, Ma. And it was doubly hard for Darren because he and Marlon were so tight.”

  Emily nodded. “Sometimes it takes a while, but he seems like a good boy, and I’m sure he’ll come through.” She snagged the last of the roast from the platter before Carl could skewer it and began loading a clean plate, piling it high. “You’ve had enough, Carl.” To Max she said, “Will he be all right?” She tilted her head upstairs.

  Max thought about it for a long time before he spoke. “I hope so.”

  He might have said more, but Darren spoke up behind him. “Hey, that smells good.” Darren laid a hand on Max’s shoulder briefly as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Sorry I zoned out there. Your son woke me out of a perfectly good dream this morning by banging on my door at the crack of yesterday.”

  “Maxie always was early to rise,” Emily said. “I was just fixing you a plate. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Still so formal, aren’t you, dear. Hopefully you’ll get that out of your system before you leave.”

  Darren grinned. “I’ll try my best.” He reached for the plate Emily handed him.

  “Don’t you want me to warm it for you?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. It smells wonderful.”

  “He can stick it in the microwave if he wants, Ma.” Max grinned at the reproving look his mother gave him. “I know, I know. It doesn’t taste the same. But Ma, your cooking is so good, not even a microwave can hide it.”

  Emily looked startled, and Carl laughed. “God, now I’ve heard everything. Come on, Mama. Help me back to my chair so I can get these damned feet off and the boy can eat in peace.” Carl stood, leaning heavily on the table to do so. “Damn these things hurt. You gonna rub me down?” He waggled his eyebrows at Emily.

  “If they’re swollen, I’ll put ice packs on you like the doctor said.” Emily offered her shoulder for Carl to lean on. “That’ll cool you down,” she said as they left the kitchen.


  Max watched them leave, smiling faintly and shaking his head. “You know, I used to wish I was adopted.”

  “I don’t know,” Darren replied. “I like your parents.”

  “They’ll like you too.” Max peered into his nearly empty coffee cup. “I think Ma already does.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Max shrugged. “She let you sleep. Anyone else and she’d have called you down. Wait ’til you see what she’s like with the rest of the family. You’ll understand.”

  Darren smiled. “You know, Max. That sounds kind of ominous.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  Max and Darren stacked their dishes in the sink and scattered when Emily threatened bodily harm if they didn’t leave the cleanup for her. They watched TV for a while with Max’s parents until Max began to nod off.

  “I wasn’t the one who slept all the way here,” Max said when Darren chided him for it.

  “I know. You’re right, Max,” Darren replied. “I did offer, once.”

  “Yeah, and I passed, like any sensible human being with a healthy sense of self preservation.”

  “Apparently Max doesn’t think much of my driving.” Darren turned to Carl and Emily, who were watching the exchange avidly. “Though I should point out it wasn’t me that got the speeding ticket last year.”

  “Couldn’t be helped,” Max replied. “That guy in the Jeep was cute, and he did wave at us.”

  “You’d think that if he wanted you to catch him, he would have slowed down.”

  “I think he was playing hard to get,” Max said loftily.

  “Is that how you gay boys meet each other, on the freeway?”

  Max laughed. “No, Dad. We meet just like anyone else. Usually,” he added, and Darren laughed.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Max and I met when he doused me with a pitcher of beer at a sports bar,” Darren grinned.

  “What were you doing in a bar, Max?” Emily’s face held a faint frown.

  “Drinking, what else? Or I would have been if that overmuscled jerk with the brains of an unstrung tennis racket hadn’t bumped into me.” Max said.

  “Which in turn made Max, carrying a freshly filled pitcher of beer, bump into me,” Darren added. “We looked like washouts at a wet T-shirt contest and smelled like a brewery. We basically became friends while trying to wash the stink out of our shirts.”

  “Of course, giving it back to that bonehead pretty much cemented us,” Max said.

  Carl looked eager. “Oh? What did you do to him?”

  Max and Darren looked at each other for a moment and began laughing. Finally, Darren motioned for him to continue.

  “Oh, it wasn’t much, really. And it only cost us a pitcher each. The game was particularly good that day.” Max glanced at Darren. “College playoffs, wasn’t it?” Darren nodded, and he continued. “Everybody was yelling and cheering, and we just let ourselves get jostled, same as he did to me, only he got it from two directions at once.”

  “That, and you plowed into his back,” Darren said.

  Max snorted. “He wouldn’t have fallen quite so hard if you hadn’t tripped him.”

  “Well, it was my favorite shirt,” Darren said defensively.

  “And even wet, it looked good on you,” Max’s eyes were dancing. “Anyway, by the time the gorilla got himself untangled from the chairs and the other people, we were already out in the parking lot, laughing our asses off and running for our lives.”

  “I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat. He was pretty big, and you were even skinnier then.” Darren winked at Emily, who seemed not to notice. Instead, she was staring at her son as if he had suddenly sprouted a third eye.

  Max squirmed uncomfortably under her steady gaze until she finally spoke.

  “It’s almost like I don’t know you anymore, Maxie. Roughing up people, drinking in bars.”

  “Ma, it was just the one time, and besides, I am an adult.” Distress creased his face as she continued to stare at him.

  “Em?” Carl began, reaching for his wife. “He’s not a child—”

  Emily cut him off with a look and suddenly buried her face in her hands, wailing. “My baby boy is all grown up!”

  Her histrionics might have been more effective were it not for the peals of merry laughter that followed. “Maxie, baby, you’re worse than your father was.”

  Max stared at her like a cornered rabbit until Carl huffed.

  “Never mind, Em. We don’t need to go into that.” Carl’s lofty tone made his wife laugh all the more.

  Emily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’ll tell you boys all about it later,” she said, throwing a look at Carl, who managed to look pained and amused at the same time. “For now, though,” she continued, still smiling broadly, “it’s bedtime for me. The rest of the kids’ll start showing up early, and I want to at least have the coffee on before the rioting starts.”

  Max looked at his watch and yawned. “Is everybody really going to be here?”

  “They better be or I’ll know why not,” Emily locked the brakes on Carl’s wheelchair. “It’ll be the first time in six years I’ll have had all my children under one roof, and nothing had better interfere.” She waited while Carl shifted himself off the couch and into his wheelchair. “And Darren, I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am to have you here with us,” she said as Carl unlocked the brakes.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Terreigne. I’m glad to be here.”

  Emily sniffed. “We really do have to work on that, dear.”

  “Leave him be, Em. It’s nice to see some good old-fashioned courtesy around here for a change.”

  “But it makes me feel old.”

  “Hate to tell you, but you are old, sweetie.”

  “Carl!”

  “Good night, boys,” Carl said, looking over his shoulder and grinning as Emily rolled him down the hall.

  “Night, Dad.” Max stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna crash too. What about you?”

  “Right behind you,” Darren said. “Do we need to lock up or anything?”

  “I’ve got it. Head on up if you want, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Darren nodded and started for the stairs. He paused and turned around. “Thank you, Max. I think I needed this.” Darren turned and left without another word.

  Max stared after him, too startled to reply. He finally flipped the switch on the near wall, plunging the room into darkness. “I know you do,” he said to the empty room as he started up the stairs.

  5

  Darren woke from a sound sleep under the combined weight of two small bodies jumping on him.

  “Uncle Max, Uncle Max! Wake up!” Kara and Kia, six-year-old twins, froze in surprise when Darren poked his head out from beneath his blanket. “You’re not Uncle Max.” One of the girls crossed her arms accusingly.

  “Hey! I’m over here.” Max sat up and straightened the T-shirt he was wearing. “Come give me a snuggle.”

  One of the pair squealed and sprinted across the space to throw herself into Max’s arms. The other remained sitting with arms crossed, her face creased with a child’s irritation. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  Darren pulled himself up. He shivered slightly as the cool air hit his bare chest. “My name is Darren. What’s yours?”

  “Kia,” the little girl said. “That’s my sister,” pointing to the other girl who was shrieking with laughter as Max tickled her.

  “Nice to meet you, Kia.”

  “You have hair on your chest like Daddy. Mommy says she is going to mow him one of these days.” Kia paused, looking critically at Darren’s chest. “I don’t think yours is ready to cut yet.”

  Darren pulled his blanket up a little higher, unable to think of a single thing to say.

  Max laughed. “She’s right you know. Not a very likely looking crop you got there.”

  Darren glared at him. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Kia, come here
, baby, and give me my hug. Then you and Kara can tell Mommy and Daddy we’ll be right down, okay?”

  Kia got off Darren’s bed and gave Max a perfunctory hug, still eying Darren over her shoulder. Max finally got her full attention by blowing raspberries on her neck. She shrieked as only a six-year-old girl can and tried to push away. “Uncle Max, that’s gross!” she said, scrubbing at her neck.

  “You bet, and there’s plenty more where that came from if you two don’t scoot and let us get dressed. Now, scram!” Max made as if to do it again, and both girls screamed. They ran for the door and slammed it shut behind them.

  “What in the hell was that?” Darren demanded, his head still reeling with the onslaught.

  “Thundering horde, remember? Those are Mark and Carla’s girls.”

  Darren shook his head. “They don’t exactly act alike, do they?”

  “No,” Max agreed. “Kia has always been the leader of the pair. In fact—”

  A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. “Are you decent in there?” A musically feminine voice called through the door.

  Max started to say “Yes,” but Darren overrode him.

  “No! We’re humping like bunnies!”

  A startled gasp and quickly muffled giggles sounded from the other side of the door.

  Darren got out of bed and pulled on jeans and a clean T-shirt. He looked at Max, who sat staring at him. “What? I wanted enough time to get my damned pants on before anyone else came blasting through that door.”

  Max burst out laughing. “You’ve done it now. I think that was my sister, Carrie, and unless I miss my guess, her oldest daughter, Monica.” Max shook his head. “She’s fourteen.”

  “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Max.”

  Max laughed. “Doesn’t matter to me. Just know that by the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the whole house will have heard. Monica isn’t exactly discreet.”

  Darren shook his head. “I used to regret being an only child, but not anymore.”

  “Come on,” Max said as he, too, donned jeans and a shirt. “Let’s go down and face the firing squad together.”