Archives:
December 23-December 29, 2007

December 23, 2007

“So then they announce that the flight's been canceled,” Ray says, taking a sip from his mug of hot cocoa.

April rolls her eyes, turning to him. “That's announcement that woke Ray up, at least,” April says. “I, on the other hand, was scared to death to fall asleep because this freaky guy in a cowboy hat was staring at me.”

“Which, as I said, was a justifiable reason to wake me up,” Ray says, “and I would have gladly moved.”

Dad laughs loudly, setting a plate of Christmas cookies one of his clients gave him down on the coffee table. Ray and April each look really tired. They were supposed to get here around 4 this afternoon, but they didn't get to Shermantown until a few minutes before 11.

Ray picks up a candy cane shaped cookie, biting off the handle of it. “So anyway, they bump us to a flight to Philadelphia . Then we race across the airport and get to the terminal just as they're making the final boarding call for this flight.”

“Well, it's a good thing you made that one,” I say.

“A night in Philly might not have been so bad,” April says.

“Yeah, but it's better being back home. Especially with that tree,” Ray says, eying the easily seven-feet tall Christmas tree in the corner. “For Chrissake, Dad, how'd you get that thing in here?”

“Trust me—my back was sore for the effort,” Dad says. “But it had been years since we had a real tree. Just felt right to get back in the habit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ray says with a nod. “I suppose it feels a little more like Christmas.”

December 24, 2007

“So did I miss something?” Ray asks, pressing the start button on the microwave, bringing it into humming life. “Are Mom and Pops back on good terms now?”

“I'm not really sure,” I say, rearranging my Scrabble tiles as I sit here, at the kitchen table. There's a plastic red tablecloth over it, with little reindeer pulling little sleighs along the white border. “I actually hadn't heard him mention Mom until today.”

“Today,” Ray says, “when he's the one to go to the airport to pick up her and Avery.”

“Exactly. I was kind of planning to do that myself again this year.”

April sets down her mug of hot chocolate, right back in the place where spilled chocolate had already formed a dark brown ring on the plastic. “I don't get what's so weird about that,” she says. “I mean, they've both had another year apart. You can't expect things to be that awkward between them forever.”

“Says the girl who's parents are still happily married,” Joe says, popping the microwave open, halfway through its first beep, signaling the time is up, and nuked s'mores are ready.

“Hate to agree with my brother,” I say, laying out my word—STRING—on the board, “but I think he's got a point. As long as they aren't together, things are going to be awkward—and especially as long as Avery's in the picture.”

“He speaks the truth,” Ray says. He takes his first bite of a s'more, a string of melted marshmallow stretching from his mouth back to the graham crackers. With his free hand, he effortlessly tosses down tiles on the board, forming STRINGENT for a double word score.

I hear the front door swing open, and spring up from my chair. Ray and April follow.

Mom greets me with a hug, then, still clinging to me with one arm, reels in Ray with the other. Dad comes in, hauling in Mom's two suitcases. I'm a bit surprised to see that Avery's nowhere to be found.

December 25, 2007

A collection of Christmas music enters it's third or fourth rotation for the day. Dad discovered iTunes this fall, and has several hours of holiday tunes stocked up that he's playing for the day.

“So, Mom, enough about me and Presto over here,” Ray says, popping a piece of a roll into his mouth. He leans back in his chair, away from the forest green table cloth, sprinkled with bits tinsel. “Let's hear about how things are going in Florida . How's the restaurant business?”

“The restaurant business is—the restaurant business,” Mom says, looking down, grinning a little. “But I did tell you boys I had a surprise I was going to tell you at Christmas.”

“Yes, the long awaited surprise,” stretching across the table to grab my second post-dinner Christmas cookie.

Mom smiles, glancing at Dad, who looks away, taking a sip of wine. “I've decided to move back to Shermantown.”

Grandma smiles and nods. I think she had already heard. Judging from how unaffected Dad looks, I suspect he was aware too.

“But what about the restaurant, and Avery?” Ray asks, his eyes shifting between Mom and Dad.

“Things weren't really working with Avery,” Mom says, “and I don't think the restaurant business was quite what I was looking for. So I'm reinvesting. I took a loan, and I'm opening up a bookstore in town.”

“A bookstore?” I ask.

“That's what I wanted to do all along—when I was shoving books down your throats growing up—it's what I always wanted, I think. The restaurant was convenient before, but now I can have something that's really my own.”

“Where are you going to live?” I ask.

Mom picks up her glass of wine, swirling it in front of her. “Funny you should ask.” She pauses, taking a sip. “I'll be staying in Ray's old room for a while.”

“You're going to live here?” Ray asks.

I set my cookie down. “Does that mean—”

“It means she'll be staying here,” Dad says, and for a second it appears that he's holding back a smile. “And that's all it means for now.”

December 26, 2007

“Pair of aces,” Joey says, laying his cards down on the table.

Matt raises his eyebrows, the only other player still in the hand. He goes on to furrow his brow. “Now I forget, does a pair of aces beat a pair of threes?” he asks, laying down the first of the two cards from his hand.”

“I'm afraid it does,” Joey says, reaching in to rake in the pot.

Matt flicks his final card out, onto the top of the chip stack. “But three threes. That would win the hand, right?” He flashes a grin.

“Burned,” I comment, grabbing a handful of pretzels from the bowl next to me.

“Funny guy,” Joey says, pulling his hand away, as Matt pulls in the pot. “Way to hold out for the big finish.”

“It's called hold ‘em for a reason,” Matt says, beginning to stack the chips in front of him.

Chang gathers up the cards and starts shuffling. He's been quiet all night, and in this moment, seems to be shuffling a little faster than usual.

“So you guys watch the Suns-Lakers game yesterday?” Joey asks, fiddling with his dwindling stack of chips.

“Had it on the background,” Matt shrugs. “You know how it goes on Christmas.”

“So hey guys,” Chang breaks in, straightening the stack of cards between his hands. “There's something I wanted to tell you all.” Chang looks down, and I realize what's coming. I hadn't been thinking about it tonight, but then, I suppose it's as good of a time as any.

“I'm gay,” he says, eyes fixed on the table. “I've known for a while, and I've been seeing this guy. And—and I just thought maybe you guys should know.”

It's quiet. Chang cuts the deck in half, and shuffles again, a little slower.

Matt clears his throat. “That's cool, man.”

Joey nods, and I follow suit.

I toss a couple chips to the center of the table. “Blinds in.”

“So you see that play Stoudamire and Nash made in the third quarter?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, that was sick,” Joey responds, not skipping a beat.

A corner of Chang's lips curves upward for a second, as he begins to deal the cards.

December 27, 2007

Matt flicks a piece of popcorn in the air, and opens his mouth wide in an effort to catch it. The kernel bounces off his lower lip, falling into the couch. He doesn't make an effort to recover it, rather reaching back into the bag and grabbing a new handful, which he promptly stuffs into his mouth.

I stretch, feeling sort of oddly tired and lethargic, given how little I've done over the last few days. It occurs to me that Matt and I are probably exactly where we were five, maybe ten years ago, on winter break, watching TV and eating junk food on his couch.

“So you think your parents are getting back together?” he asks.

I shrug, not taking my eyes off the screen, where Rocky Balboa is standing toe-to-toe with this big Russian guy, the two of them growing more bruised and battered with each passing shot. “My dad wasn't saying a word about it. But if my mom's moving back in the house—” I trail off. “I don't know, it's weird. I guess it sort of feels like they're going in that direction. But it just as easily be that she needs a place to stay when she moves back, and my dad's helping her out.”

“And yet Avery is out of the picture.”

“It's true.”

“Complicated shit.” Matt grabs another handful of popcorn. “Speaking of which, did you know about Chang?”

I swallow, and scratch my chest. I figure there's no point in lying now. “Yeah. Yeah, I knew.”

Matt nods. “I figured you might, being with him at school and all.”

The fight montage goes on, on screen, fading to a new round. “It weird you out?”

Matt tosses another kernel up, successfully catching this one. “I guess it does a little,” he says. “But at the same time, I sort of guessed—with all the time he spent with Brad and everything.” He shakes his head. “Remember when things were simpler?”

“Seems like a long time ago.” I chuckle. “I mean, I can remember when—”

“Wait, wait, this is the best part,” Matt says, holding a hand up. “This is when Stallone tries to get political.”

I smile, leaning back into the sofa to listen to Rocky tell me how everyone can just get along.

December 28, 2007

I lean back in my desk chair, a foot propped against my desk, my arms stretched long so I can type on my laptop, chatting with Emma.

PrestononAIM: So it's really weird. I guess my mom's moving back in, but she and my dad aren't back together… but they might get back together in the future.

emmatellsall: that is weird.

emmatellsall: and they didn't explain it any more than that?

PrestononAIM: I think both of them are scared to jump the gun or say the wrong thing, you know?

PrestononAIM: But enough about me. How was your Christmas?

I feel my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. Pulling it out, I can see it's Teri calling.

“Hey, babe,” I answer. “What's up?”

“Nothing much,” Teri says, a rattling in the background. “Just had a quiet sec, so I figured I'd give you a call.”

“Well I'm happy to hear from you,” I say, getting up, pacing a little, getting my eyes off the screen where I'm sure Emma's going to make my attention wander. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” she breaks off, “Hey! I told you, outside! You only come in if it's an emergency or you need to go to the potty! Stop it!”

I can't help but laugh. As much as I feel bad for Teri, I find her kid brother and sister pretty hilarious.

Teri sighs. “I made a deal with these little shits to stay outside for two hours and I would make them these cookies. I should just throw the friggin batter away.”

“Or you could make the cookies, and save them for me.”

“How did you manage to spin this so you came out on top?” Teri asks.

“I have a way with words.”

Teri shrieks and pulls the phone from her ear. “That does it! Both of you inside, close the door!” She exhales loudly, turning back to me. “They just threw snowballs at me inside the friggin house. Preston , I'll talk to you later.”

She hangs up before I can say another word. I flip my phone shut and head back to the computer, only to find that I just missed Emma saying she had to go, and that she's just signed off.

December 29, 2007

I heave my last shovel full of snow out onto the bank at the side of Matt's driveway. There are still some light flurries coming down, powdering the pavement, making an effort to erase all of our work from the past half hour.

“Thanks for the hand, bro,” Matt says.

“No problem,” I say, propping the shovel up over my shoulder as we head toward the house. “Though I don't see why your dad won't invest in a snow-blower already, like the rest of the civilized world.”

Matt walks on, using his own shovel like some sort of oversized cane. “Ah, but then he couldn't impose these character building moments when I come home for break.” He starts climb the steps up to his front door, as I follow after. “Of course, I half-think he does have a snow-blower stashed some place, and he just hides it when I come home.”

“I wouldn't put it past him.”

We each bang our shovels against the side of the stairs, hanging them over the railing, to knock off the excess snow.

“So let me ask you something, Preston ,” Matt says, opening the front door. “I was talking to Julie last night, and she was saying how her plans for New Year's had fallen through.”

“So you're wondering if she can tag along to Teri's friend's?”

“Tag along for the tag along?” Matt asks, propping shovel against a wall, and taking off his ski cap.

“Don't see why not. If it's like last year, it'll be the more the merrier.” Taking off my gloves, I touch my hands to my face, practically numb from the cold. “Of course, this is with the condition that the two of you won't spend the ride there or back making out.”

“I'll relegate her to the backseat, and I'll ride shotgun,” Matt says, holding up a hand. “Scout's honor.”