Silver

“Boss, are you going to let us have Christmas this year?”

Staff meetings are normally occasions of bonhomie: with Andrew perched on the edge of the conference table, guitar in hand, strumming his way through various discussion points, sometimes playing a flourish when imparting good news. Even if I didn’t not-so-secretly adore him I would find it precious. However, the question did not come from me, I wasn’t really one for the holidays, except as an excuse to watch old movies. Cinematic illusions from the 1930s and ‘40s were the kind of Christmas I liked, the modern version could go hang, as Andrew was fond of saying.

Our fearless leader frowned comically, his forehead wrinkling like a shar-pei. But I cherished each and every line. Even the bits of gray he was getting in his silly goatee which we theorized he was sporting to divert attention from his hair loss. If he were mine I would kiss those spots of silver and tell him it didn’t matter, but if having a silly goatee made him happy then I wouldn’t begrudge him the pleasure. Any pleasure…especially those I might be giving him.

Oh stop it before you really get yourself in trouble.

“Now how could I prevent such a thing, hmm?”

“Can we decorate our cubicles?”

He then reached understanding and began to play “Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

“I’ve no objection, long as you don’t get carried away, right? Like…who was it? In the film?”

“Clark Griswold,” I interjected, trying to be helpful.

“Right. Do wot you like, just don’t get gaudy. I occasionally invite people to come ‘round, so I can beg for money.”

Everyone chuckled. One of our unifying characteristics was that we found Andrew to be fair, honest, and dryly hilarious when he chose to be.

“How about a contest? Winner gets a gift card or something?”

Andrew shrugged. “Fine by me, though I don’t think I should be the one to judge it. Never been particularly in the spirit and such.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, before I even knew that I would. My boss, my hero, gave me a look of pleasurable surprise.

“Thought you were a grinch like me, Ann.”

“I’m somewhere between Scrooge and Bob Cratchit. But I’m not biased –“

“Yeah we know you hate everybody equally,” John piped up. He’s a smartass, but also naturally garrulous, which is what makes him a great venture capital guy. Well, that and he’s a finance genius.

“Exactly,” I shot back. “So I’ll be bitchy but fair.”

A few doubtful glances - I am more feared than disliked - but Andrew was looking down at his guitar, trying to work out “Greensleeves.” After a few moments everyone shrugged and murmured okay.

“Right then. We’ll be closed Christmas Eve and the following day, but I expect at least a few of you to show up on Monday, hmm? Just in case someone decides they want to give us their business or something.”

Smiles. People liked working here.

Andrew dismissed the group with a silly song, serenading them as they filed out. I remained, as I usually do, watching him with affection. An affection I tried very hard to hide, but I knew he knew, and he seemed to find it amusing.

“Thanks for your services, miss. Don’t go in for that sort of thing.”

I nodded. “I saw the master schedule, noticed you’re not going on holiday.”

Andrew placed his guitar on the table and moved to one of the conference chairs with a sigh.

“Too much to do, and Mum doesn’t want to go up to the cabin. She’s not one for snow.”

“Is Trevor going home for the holidays?”

Yes, I could have asked him myself. And I’d tried to ask him. But the words refused to come out of my mouth. To think about it gave me a pain in my chest which horrified me to even contemplate.

Another frown. “Dunno. They get a month off, right?”

“Yeah. Two weeks in December, two weeks in January.”

“And it’s summer there now, you’d think he might want to. But he hasn’t said, not to me. Though he avoids talking to me any road.”

“Still?”

“He’s never been too fond of me, I keep telling you. Only you like me more than most.”

“Maybe I just feel sorry for you.”

I looked at him, trying to appear guileless, then failing with laughter.

“As well you should, given what a weirdo I am.”

He always referred to himself in that way, or he might say, I’m a terribly strange person, and we would laugh, but at the heart of the admission I found a certain sadness. Though I didn’t want to share him I didn’t want him to be lonely. But who truly knew if he was? He had two cats and a houseful of equipment to tinker with, ideas to dream up and implement. He never struck me as longing for anything more, even as he was occasionally overwhelmed by his own ambition and workaholic ways.

“Well I’m no great shakes with Christmas dinner, but if you and your mother and Trevor, if he stays, would like to come over –“

“Oh good heavens, Mum lives for Christmas dinner! You must come - she’ll bore you to death with tales of holidays past, but she makes a lovely prime rib.”

“That’s very kind of you, boss. I’ll bring a special dish.”

“Just bring plenty of drink and we’ll be happy.”

I smiled. My boss likes a tipple, he does.


I pulled into my driveway and switched off the ignition. Looking behind me, across the street, I spied Trevor’s car parked in front of his grandmother’s house. Andrew bought his mother a new car for her birthday so she’s letting Trevor drive the old one, as it’s still in working order. I know he’s in my house because he sent me a text about an hour ago: waiting 4 u. I strain to hear piano chords beyond the edifice, but I discern only the ambient sounds of the evening: cars moving towards home, birds, wind, a dog barking in the distance. I sit there, telling myself you are going to ask him now and don’t be a coward.

Despite how good the situation is – and it is very very good – there is something in me which still cannot let go of doubt. There is a fear that he will return to the other side of the world and decide he belongs there after all.

That fear has kept me up of late, staring at his sleeping form beside me, my heart clenching at the thought of his sweetness inside and out. My delicious boy, whom I gorge upon as if the plate might be snatched out from under me at any time. And he willingly gives me all I desire, especially when my appetites are at their most demanding.

Ten minutes have passed…I think of him sitting on my couch: being patient, being perfect.

Idiot, stop wasting time!

A sweet wide smile, to see me as I enter the house, and I move directly to him as if magnetized, fitting into his embrace and pulling him down on the cushions.

“’Fraid you’ll have to feed me first, pikkie. Then I’ll feed you.”

“Speaking of dinner, your uncle invited me for Christmas.”

“Lekker! I was worried you’d be all alone. My mum isn’t happy I’m staying here but Gram made a fuss ‘bout being abandoned by Uncle Andy and you know how grams can pile on the proper guilt.”

I chuckled. “Yeah I’ve witnessed that a time or two in my life.”

“But you don’t do anything? Visit anybody?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Why indeed. I was so used to being alone I hadn’t questioned it for years. But I did not ask for pity. I shrugged, a bit hard to do when lying down.

“I’m solitary.”

“Yes but, on hols you have to see people.”

This was part of my fear, that I would never be able to properly explain myself. I pressed on, hoping the interrogation would cease.

“So you’re not going home, then?”

“Not going to Joburg, no.”

I appreciated he was making a point concerning his definition of home.

“Do you miss your family?”

“Sure. But I’d miss you too much, and I’m selfish.”

Not as selfish as I am.

“Well then, what sort of present would you like?”

It was Trevor’s turn to shrug. “Never celebrated Christmas.”

“Why not?”

“I was raised Jewish.”

I wasn’t wholly shocked and yet I had to get up off the couch.

“You’re Jewish?”

Trevor shrugged again, moving to lie on his side. “Yeah, though not proper. Not my mum.”

“Does that really matter?”

“To some. But I don’t follow it now. I s’pose that’s why I didn’t mention it.”

“Well you get presents for Hanukkah, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah. But you’re my pressie, y’know. Every day.”

Such an adorable boy needs lots of validation, so I gave it to him until he reminded me that he was famished for food…lust would have to wait.


Those cinematic fantasies had now begun to take hold. I live in a place where it never snows, but hearing “White Christmas” on my co-worker’s boom box as she decorated with lights and tinsel made me think of the scene in Holiday Inn (my favorite holiday film) where Der Bingle sings that song for the first time to the woman he hopes to woo, having extracted her from about three or four feet of snow. They sat cozy in his farmhouse in front of a roaring fire, a winter wonderland beyond the door…and the ache of romance made me sigh.

Goddamnit, this is why I hate the holidays!

It was easy to sit on the couch and wallow in nostalgia. It was practically a law for women, accompanied by the drug of choice: booze, ice cream, self-loathing, chocolate, nicotine.

And so now I could indulge, much like with chocolate. Like the homemade fudge sitting on the receptionist’s counter. I used to ask for a puppy every Christmas…and now I finally have one.


Trevor requested I attend his end-of-term recital, practically insisted - as he had never insisted upon anything before – I be there, despite my argument that it might not be appropriate. But he said that as long as he was pretending to be my piano teacher I might as well observe him doing what he did best.

I opened my mouth and he interjected “- other than fucking you, that is.”

I sat with Andrew and his mother and felt rather perverted. Considering my Christmas invitation, I wasn’t sure how I would make it through that afternoon and evening if I was having a hard enough time now with a couple hours in a drafty auditorium. Andrew asked me to come along to dinner afterwards, but I begged off.

Another source of fear: how could I continue to adore them both?

I kept waiting for my affection for Andrew to be supplanted by my desire for Trevor but there was nothing but warmth and longing for my boss, even now. With constant reminders that Andrew was practically a monk, not interested in me as a possible girlfriend in the least, I could at least write it off as unrequited…something and feel only half as guilty as I normally might.

When it was Trevor’s turn he walked out on the stage and treated the assemblage to his megawatt grin. I saw a couple girls whisper and wave to him, but when I looked back he was smiling at me.

Make sure you wave to me, pikkie, hey? So I can impress you.

So his grandmother and I did smile and wave and Trevor sat down at the piano, clothed simply in black dress slacks and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and played Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky. His poise was unshakable, I was seeing another side of my twinkie in this moment, the one who deferred to nothing but his own deterministic talent. Though he appeared happy-go-lucky and seemingly content in every moment, I could spy a hint of ambition in the way he played. Afterwards I swear he received the greatest amount of applause. But I’m biased, after all.

“That’s my Trev!” his grandmother proclaimed, her eyes glistening.

“He’s great,” I enthused, suppressing an urge to leap to my feet and rush the stage. Even Andrew was impressed.

“Always said Trev inherited all the musical talent in our family. ‘Bout time he did something with it.”

Knowing my boss’ perfectionist tendencies, I read between the lines and found the praise within.

Afterwards the participants were feted in the foyer by their friends, families, and instructors. Trevor had a crowd around him, the three of us waiting at the edge, and as he shrugged into a black blazer, the effect of the dress clothes coupled with his thick wavy long hair made him all the more sexy. I felt that ache again, for viewing my wunderkind outside the sphere of my immediate influence. In this moment, even as I knew he was mine, I could not lay claim to him. I felt there would be many more moments like that, in time. But I –

No, I’m not saying it.

Okay.

Trevor came up to us, grinning brightly and that grin squeezed my heart until there was nothing left to give. He was eating a piece of cake and held out the plate.

“Want a bite? It’s scrummy.”

I shook my head, trying not to smirk. But he did smirk after sucking the frosting from the fork.

“We’re going to Milners,’ don’t spoil your appetite,” his grandmother chided.

“Gram, nothing short of a ten-course meal could spoil my appetite.”

“You were wonderful,” I said quietly, as I looked down at his dress shoes. I could sort of see myself in the shiny leather. He looked so good all dressed up, we’d never really had occasion to do so.

“Can we be off, then?” Andrew asked. “Cutting it close for the reservation.”

“Thanks. Sorry you’re not coming.”

The boy is going to drive me insane…just the slightest pause between his last two words and a mocking emphasis on the penultimate. Andrew had turned away and his mother was rummaging through her purse for a tissue so I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. My boy giggled.

“Eat another steak for me.”

We walked out of the hall and in the parking lot - as Andrew dutifully held open the door for the materfamilias - Trevor pursed his lips just slightly, the ghost of a kiss. Then a wink, and they were all in Andrew’s green SUV, waving goodbye, driving away.

I didn’t have to be on the outside, not always. But something keeps telling me I’m safer there.


“Good lord, I’m going to have you all work by Christmas lights!”

Andrew is bemused, looking around at the cubicles. I’m watching him through the window of my office as I obsessively check my phone for texts. The scene reminds of A Charlie Brown Christmas, the neighborhood lighting contest which Snoopy had entered. There was no one so revolutionary to me growing up as Charlie Brown…he voiced my own inadequacies and doubts so perfectly I used to wonder if Charles Schulz was one of our neighbors.

I like fictional Christmases. But in terms of my own history, once I reached 18 I dreaded the season.

“Have you made the rounds yet?” I’m being asked. I set my phone down and swiveled in my chair to face my boss who is actually smiling. Probably despite himself.

“I was going to wait till lunchtime, then sneak around and check out the contestants thus far.”

“Had to have a look-see…Mum rang me, said Trevor was going to decorate today and she wanted me to buy some things, lights for the house and such.”

“I guess I could have him put up some lights for me too. They are pretty.”

“Wot colors d’you like?”

I blushed. “Boss, you don’t have to –“

“Consider it a loan, neighbor…it’s Christmas.”

“I like blue the best.”

Andrew nodded, still smiling, and wandered off, whistling “Blue Christmas.” Silly man. But I put my face down on my desk, folded my arms over my head, and let out a silent aaaiiieee because he is so fucking adorable. I sat up, picked up my phone, and told my twinkie I was having him for lunch, so he’d better be right where I needed him to be.

yes milady


“Promise me you won’t fall off the ladder.”

“I’m terribly nimble, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re flexible, this is true. But being nimble is different.”

“Well if you hold the ladder you’ve only yourself to blame.”

We’re standing in the front yard and I’m pretending to be casual with my beautiful boy as he carefully lays out four strings of lights, having plugged in an extension cord in the garage then brought it out to test the strings. Suddenly the ground was an ersatz sea of blue shimmer and I let out a little chuckle.

“These will be lovely…can we put some up in your bedroom too?”

“Hmm,” I said, picking up a roll of duct tape he had brought out, tearing off a piece, and putting it across his mouth fast enough that he couldn’t dart away. His sultry wide eyes emoted teasing shock.

“Careful I don’t think about other ways to use this, twinkie mine.”

He folded his arms across his chest and stared me down, daring me to elaborate. And in waning daylight, in front of the entire neighborhood and whomever else might see, I was so tempted to. Tempted to bind his wrists together and pull him inside. I carefully pulled the tape from his luscious mouth.

“Your handyman is waiting to see what you know about duct tape.”

“I know it has a million uses. But it’s not fair to talk about my bedroom in front of the whole freakin’ neighborhood!”

“No one’s watching, milady. No one can see that you have naughty thoughts ‘bout me.”

“So no one can see you’ve got a cold chisel in your jeans?”

“I’m 21, it’s entirely expected I should be erect at inopportune times.”

Sometimes his sense of humor is so like Andrew’s…I want to tackle him.

“Trev please, torture me later, okay?”

A flirty delicious expression. Kill me now. A breathy sex-laden reply.

“Okay.”


Despite having never celebrated Christmas, Trevor knows all the appropriate songs, and he plays them with gusto as I make dinner. This strikes me as incongruent and I can’t help a giggle. As the spaghetti is boiling, the accompanying sauce simmering, the garlic bread baking, I come over and lean on the piano.

“Did you ever see A Charlie Brown Christmas?”

“Wot is that?”

“A cartoon, based on a comic strip called Peanuts. Charlie Brown was bald and he wore a yellow shirt.”

“I’ve seen pictures -”

“The comic?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever see the cartoon. Why?”

“There’s a scene where Lucy – who is the main female character – asks Schroeder – who is the musical prodigy - to play ‘Jingle Bells’ on the piano and he keeps having to change his style because she says it’s not Christmas enough.”

Trevor smiled. “Are you Lucy then?”

“Some might say so. She’s very bossy and cranky, and she gave psychiatric advice for five cents a session…I’m terrible at that.”

“And yet you keep insisting you’re the Voice of Reason in regards to my decisions.”

“I am. You need to respect your elders.”

“I’m very respectful of your need to use me like a 3D sex toy.”

He’s teasing, but –

Serves you right.

“You’re wholly culpable in that,” I opine, sitting next to him on the stool. “I attempt to respect your autonomy and you pout until I make the leash a little bit tighter.”

He smiles again, and this time it’s completely blinding.

“You say ‘leash,’ I say –“

The timer goes off for the spaghetti and I run back to the kitchen before he can say it. During dinner he returns to childhood musings.

“Schroeder…wasn’t he the chap wot fancied Beethoven?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a Tchaikovsky man, y’know.”

I nod solemnly. “Beethoven was a sort of shorthand for ‘serious musician’ in the comics.”

“We didn’t really have cartoons when I was a kid.”

“I know you said there wasn’t television until 1975, but –“

“They would show the nature programmes on Saturday morning. Lions in the veld and all that.”

“Yes I can tell you learned your seduction techniques from them, as you sat there and ate bananas in milk.”

“I was quite attentive, yes.”

“This time of year there were always Christmas cartoons on, one of my favorites was about a mother bear and her two cubs, and it was time to hibernate but they wanted to celebrate Christmas.”

“So they didn’t go to sleep?”

“No. They met Santa Claus at some point.”

“I saw the one with the Grinch, last year. I was in Blighty, visiting my mum’s family.”

“Does your grandmother miss England?”

“Not so much now, it’s too cold for her. My mum tried to get her to move to Joburg but she says it’s too far from Uncle Andy.”

“I had a feeling she favors him.”

Trevor shook his head. “So strange. Mum would love it if Gram came to live with them, but she worries about Uncle Andy too much, and he does the same ‘bout her.”

“Why don’t they go to the UK for the holidays?”

Trevor looked embarrassed, peering at the mound of spaghetti before him, twirling his fork through it.

“I’m sorry if I’m prying, I’m just confused.”

“No, it’s just – well, it’s rather sad, really. Uncle Andy left because some girl broke his heart. Doesn’t like to visit because she still lives in the area where all the fam is – he’s terrified he’s going to run into her some day, or they’ll invite her over to unpleasantly surprise him.”

There’s gotta be a movie out there with that exact plot. A Christmas miracle: he meets the one he loved and lost and she realizes her mistake, desires a second chance.

“That is sad.”

“You must swear you’ll never mention it. If he knew I’d told you he’d find a way to have me deported, I wager.”

“He’s not mean, Trevor. He might be mad to find out but he wouldn’t do that!”

Trevor smirked as he chewed a piece of garlic bread. After chasing it with some wine he leaned forward, putting his nose against mine.

“You just work for him, pikkie…y’don’t have to be related to him.”

“I’m sorry, Trev, but I have a hard time believing he would be like that.”

My boy shrugged, finished off the last of his salad. “We see different things in people. You see something in me nobody else does.”

Mine. Mine mine mine.

“I’d say that applies more to you than to me. It’s easy to see, with you, why you’re so great.”

He grinned again, and I leaned over and kissed him.

“Am I so great I can get out of loading the dishwasher?”

“Oh sure, I let you slide out of that, the next thing you know you’ll be wanting to be exempt from oral sex on the basis of your greatness.”

He pulled a horrified face. “Never!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

This is what I…desire, so much…Trevor’s easy playfulness, as he’s pulling me away from the table and down the hall, then letting gravity have its’ way with our clothes onto the floor and our bodies onto the bed and then all is slippery bliss courtesy of his tongue, tracing every inch of my labia and darting inside me, a warm surprise which makes me gasp and squirm.

“Are you reassured, milady, that I would never allow my responsibilities to…slide?”

Damp trail from my navel all the way down to my clit and I am made dizzy by his expertise. He’s such a good boy, he lets me hump his face, uses his tongue just as well as his cock to bring me to liquid moaning satisfaction.

“Okay,” I gasp, “you win…this time you don’t have to clean up. But don’t think this will work every time.”

Trevor licks his full pouty lips slowly. “If it works only half the time it’s fully worth it.”

I pull him to me and laugh into his neck, trying, for the moment, not to think of Andrew.


Once more into the breach, my friends… into the city for shopping. Trevor is my shield against the rampaging hoards, but also an advisor.

“I’ve already ordered your uncle’s present, but what would your grandmother like?”

“Y’don’t have to get her a pressie, Ann. She won’t let me buy her anything, says all she wants is a Christmas concert, so I’ve been practicing on your piano.”

“As the hostess, at the very least she is entitled to something.”

There’s an international food shop at the mall, so he says I could buy her a big box of chocolate Tim Tams.

“She’ll have to hide them from me, though. My favourite teatime biscuit.”

I make him wait outside and buy three boxes – I know Andrew likes them too. Trevor quirks a suspicious eyebrow but I threaten to use the duct tape again.

“An idle threat grows less powerful over time, milady,” he pronounces as we slough through the crowd, and I clench his hand in a death grip.

“Who said that - Machiavelli?”

Trevor snickered. “No, it was my history teacher in fourth form. His threats were always all-too-real. So wot are you getting for Uncle Andy?”

“Just a little thing…a keychain with a guitar pick cast in silver, engraved with his initials. The type of pick he actually uses.”

He clucked his tongue. “Lekker! I’m right jealous then.”

“Silly boy! Don’t you know I’m going to spoil you rotten?”

“Y’already do. I’m fit for no one else.”

I feel a bit smug as we press on through yet another department store to find a few more things: something for the gift exchange at work, presents for those in my family I still have contact with. I buy Andrew a cashmere wool cap-and-scarf set in black for his trips to the mountains. My boss is primarily monochromatic in his choice of attire.

“Well for someone who doesn’t know anyone, y’have a lot of gifts to buy.”

“I know plenty of people, I just don’t see them very often.”

Trevor looks sad, and I appreciate the absurdity of this whole enterprise behind the façade. He feels sorry for me, I feel sorry for Andrew, and there’s no hope for any of it unless we are willing to risk something new. But apprehending the epiphany doesn’t make action any easier.

“Let’s go have sushi. I need to dull the pain of shopping.”

“I thought women loved to shop! I like to shop.”

“It’s fun when it’s for yourself. You always know what you want.”

“Yes I do,” he replied, putting his arms around me and kissing me in the crowd.


I let it be known I might be swayed with bribes of Christmas candy and so find bags of Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses on my desk every morning.

If any of these bags has been tampered with, I note in an office-wide memo, everyone is automatically disqualified.

Andrew sends out a Reply-To-All: Please do not kill my Main Brain, no matter what you may think of her.

But the staff has risen to the festive challenge: strings of lights and garland, lacy snowflakes and ornamental wreaths, big colorful glossy signs proclaiming Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas.

If you follow some other tradition, I decree, don’t be afraid to participate. All are welcome.

I’m sure they’re all mystified at my …and good will toward men demeanor. I hear music all over the office save two places...my office, and Andrew’s. I stand in his doorway, he’s at his desk sorting through a pile of snail mail.

“Hi.”

“Hullo miss, how goes the contest?”

I enter and sit down in the opposite chair. “There are a few obvious frontrunners, but plenty of time to make a last-minute show of holiday glory.”

“Well as long as they’re happy, I s’pose.”

“Do you not like Christmas music either, boss?”

Andrew looked up and his expression turned wistful. “Not really. My favorite, well, it’s not a Christmas song, but it takes place at Christmas.”

A light (not unlike a Christmas light, I suppose) went on in my brain.

“Is it ‘River?’” I asked.

It’s coming on Christmas, they’re cuttin’ down trees
they’re puttin’ up reindeer and singin’ songs of joy and peace
oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on.

He looked surprised again, but perhaps not so pleasantly. “Yeah. S’pose I shouldn’t be surprised you know that one. We’re so alike in some ways, aren’t we?”

The surprise had a shadow upon it now, sad resignation.

I sighed. “Yeah.”


I came home to find Trevor asleep on my bed and I showered him with chocolate gelt. His eyes fluttered and his surprise was altogether wonderous.

“Goodness, haven’t had these since I was a kid!”

“They’re kosher and everything.”

He unwrapped a coin and placed it on his tongue. Then he kissed me and our chocolate-coated tongues chased each other, sharing the treat equally.

“Now that is delicious.”

“If you’re tired of all these Christmas movies, it’s okay to say so.”

“No it’s fine. ‘Sides, it’s not wot we do, it’s just being together, hey?”

And that is the point of so many of the stories…no greater gift than love. I think of a song I learned as a kid in Sunday School.

Silver and gold have I not, but such as I have give I thee.

I could give him…my whole heart, my unquestioning acceptance. My faith, my joy.

I just have to find it.


Andrew and I are eating fish and chips, seated at the conference table in his office: blinds up, door open, completely above-board. He thinks if we had lunch offsite it might cause undue suspicion. He is chivalrous in a way you really don’t see much anymore. Then again, with the way I dress no one is going to accuse me of slutting up the office.

“I wanted to tell you,” he says, drizzling his chips with vinegar, “it’s very nice that you’re coming ‘round for Christmas. Mum gets tired of cooking just for us.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m bringing her a big box of Tim Tams.”

“The chocolate ones?”

“Yeah. Trevor said she liked those.”

“Oh we all do. She’ll have to lock the larder then.”

I smiled. On the surface it was all very pleasant and yet my heart thumped painfully to hear the words very nice coming from his mouth and not just because it wasn’t work-related.

“So boss, you need to pony up a fifty for the prize.”

Andrew paused in his consumption and pulled out his wallet. He handed me a $50 dollar bill as casually as if tipping a waiter. I realized it had never occurred to me that I was dealing with an incredibly well-off man; considerations of his personal wealth had nothing to do with what I felt for him.

“Nothing motivates like money, eh?”

Not everyone.

“I think it will encourage everyone to participate, though hopefully they didn’t spend any more than that to decorate in the first place.”

“I was enlisted to bring Mum a tree. Should have taken you with me, she gave me a Look when I brought it in.”

I shrugged. “Not so expert myself. But Trevor did a great job with the lights.”

Andrew nodded, but he seemed to be frowning. Then an important call came through and I went back to my office.

It’s not your place to pry.

No, but how could I not be concerned? It might be a Quixotic undertaking, but why couldn’t I find a way to make him happy?

You can’t make someone happy if they don’t want to be. Remember?

Oh shut up.


I warned Trevor to have a snack or eat some leftovers because when I got home we were going straight to bed. I loved to tangle myself up in his limbs, bury my face in his hair, taste his skin, ingest him in every way I could to sooth me…and he appreciated that role, treated me much the same – more often than I did, in fact. Even during a meal he would hold my hand, twine his foot around mine as reminder of our physical bond.

I started at the soles of his feet and licked my way upward, bathing in the rays of his bliss as if an actual sun…comforting warmth, cheerful shine. I nibbled on the inside of his thighs, licked every inch of his groin, tickled his torso and gently teased his nipples with just a slight pressure of teeth and fingertips. Finally he grabbed my hips and impaled me on his cock, beading dewy and slick, solid as I knew his affection to be. Then, proving he is indeed nimble, he flipped me over and pistoned slow, steady, insistent on my pleasure. I reveled in my condoned selfishness, my greed to have this - cock touching the twitching nerve bundles within like a pinball alighting all the bumpers - ding ding ding - the fireworks of orgasm a starry burst of endorphins, grabbing him and squeezing every last drop of sweat, semen and groaning gasping ecstasy out of my beautiful boy. Collapsing on me with soft laughter and welcome weight. I hold him: his smooth skin and thick soft hair, lush lips, lashes I’d kill for, eyes that I cannot look away from, ever.

“Some people need to come home and have a drink,” I said, whispering into his ear. “I need you.”

“Here I am,” he said, and his expression was intensely affectionate. I kissed him, and was kissed in return, and the light waned until we couldn’t see our faces, but our mouths were instinctual in seeking contact. My hands trailed over that lovely flesh and he giggled at my groping.

“The blind leading the naked –“

“- will eventually end up fucking, if only by accident.”

I held him tighter…I could, it was dark. He couldn’t see how desperate I might look, but he was mine, even if I’d not said as specific a sentiment as I was feeling. His embrace grew tighter as well, and we drifted off until Trevor’s cell phone woke us with its’ Nutcracker Suite ringtone.

“’The Nutcracker?’” I asked, laughing.

“Gram wanted ‘Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy,’ so I had to go with the ‘March’…Hallo?“

I turned on the bedside lamp and enjoyed the sight of my twinkie, even as he looked disappointed once he concluded the call.

“Uncle Andy says he needs me for something.”

“What?”

“Dunno. S’posed to meet him at his office. Maybe I’ll leave you a mash note on a Post-It.”

I would normally have panicked at such a suggestion, but great sex is wonderful for disconnecting common sense.

“Lucky I recognize your handwriting then, otherwise one of my co-workers might get propositioned.”

Trevor tackled me, holding my hands above my head. “You wouldn’t!”

I laughed. “No I wouldn’t. There’s no one as delicious as you, twinkie.”

“Say something like that again and I’ll use the duct tape!”

“Santa knows my conscience is clear.”

He sees you when you’re lusting, he knows when you’re being a fake.

“But your mind is dirty.”

“Well I should hope so, otherwise you’d be very bored, don’t you think?”

He stood up, pulled on his jeans and sweatshirt, looking just as delicious clothed as not.

“You’re fascinating in more ways than one, milady.”

One last kiss and then I lay there for a time, starving for actual food now, but paralyzed by his utter perfection.


In the morning, I was equally stunned to behold the doorway of my office festooned with glowing blue lights, and the interior was also hung with lights along with silver tinsel. My desk was draped in it like a fuzzy scarf and affixed, as promised, was a note:

Holiday cheer just for you! xo

The most amusing thing was a drawing of mistletoe taped to the bookcase behind my desk, so if I sat in my chair it was directly above me.

“Boss, did you hire elves to clean the offices again?”

“I dunno wot you’re referring to, Ann.”

Andrew’s office also had blue lights, but no tinsel. I suppose Christmas lights were about all he could stand. But he was trying not to look mischievous as he sipped his tea.

“Now we’re all in the spirit.”

“Whether we like it or not.”

“It’s good to set an example.”

“I’m a perfect example of something, just not entirely sure wot it is.”

Brilliant, kind, funny…shall I go on?

I went to retrieve my mug and found a heart on my desk fashioned from Hershey’s Kisses, with another Post-It in the center.

Candy Kisses, since I can’t kiss you in person.

I didn’t want to disturb it, but of course I had to. I kissed the note and went to get some coffee, smiling wider than I probably ever had at this time of day.


My wholly adorable boy lined my bedroom with blue lights as well and I felt a sense of wonder, smiling as I looked up at the ceiling. He had finals to take the next day so I slept alone but my thoughts of him were presence enough to tide me over. Trevor was also my gift, and I felt secure in this moment, my lair decorated with the evidence of his affection.

Joy…which I had experienced in flashes of melting warmth…I was overwhelmed and allowed the tears to come which I would never let anyone see. I put my face into the pillow he laid his precious head upon when here with me and sighed: contented, peaceful, thankful.


The day of the contest, work was strictly second priority as the entire office shared a buffet of holiday specialties. I groaned to see dish after dish upon the conference tables placed end-to-end at the back of our suite.

“Just remember, I can’t render my decision if I’m in a food coma,” I called out. I actually got a laugh or two, definitely an improvement.

Andrew did his best to look jolly, he came in sporting a Santa hat and had to suffer only gentle teasing.

“Yes I know it’s an improvement,” he deadpanned, then cracked the slightest of smiles.

After lunch he gave a little speech.

“I know you’re on tenterhooks for Ann’s decision, but first I wanted to say…whenever people tell me I’m wonderful, I know I can’t do it without you. I hope you know this, I try my best to let you know how much I value you and your contributions. I believe I’ve found the best people for the job, and the proof is in our happy clients. So thank you, Happy Christmas, and if you come in Monday with a hangover I’ll try to keep it down.”

Laughter…and loud applause. Andrew had already handed out the bonus checks, and if mine was any indication of his generosity, everyone was due for a happy holiday.

The gift exchange followed, and then it was time for the judging. I made a speech with some jokes which everyone did laugh at this time and then gave the prize to Eileen in Tech Support who had built a programmable rig to drive a lighting display timed to specific pieces of music.

“I followed the example of our Fearless Leader and awarded initiative, but I’m glad everyone was feeling the spirit. This was fun, guys, thanks!”

“Dunno if I’d say I’m fearless…there’s always some fear when it’s time to pay the bills!”

“Which is why we snuck in our own booze, Boss,” I said, patting Andrew on the shoulder.

My boss put his fingers in his ears and cried, “I can’t hear you!” But that was only for liability’s sake…he’d asked me if I wanted a nip of brandy in my eggnog an hour earlier. I declined – for a few reasons – but chief among them had to do with that drawing of mistletoe in my office.


I was getting ready to head out when Andrew called me into his office, handed me a box small and heavy enough to be…jewelry, maybe? Wrapped in silver paper with a pattern of blue snowflakes. I guessed his agenda and so brought my own gift to him, amusingly enough in a similar box. He had me go first and the black velvet box revealed a pair of aquamarine stud earrings, by the size at least three carats. I gasped, I wasn’t really expecting jewelry but this was far more than I could have ever imagined.

“Your birthstone, right?”

“Yes. Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“Mum and Trev said I should get you jewelry, it would be especially motivational. And I’m proud I remembered without having to look in your file first.”

I laughed softly. “Okay boss, your turn.”

Andrew opened the box and laughed. “It’s perfect! Looks much too nice to use, though.”

“Oh you have to promise to use it – you have no idea how long I waited to find out what kind of pick you use!”

“I have absolute faith in your intelligence-gathering methods, miss.”

“It’s been a good year.”

Andrew sighed, leaning back in his chair with a ponderous expression. “Yes, it has. I think this is all working out.”

I nodded. The silence which followed could have been an invitation to say more but I had to literally bite my lip. Eventually I cleared my throat.

“So I’ll see you on Friday, then. Be safe.”

“You too, watch out for the shoppers and revelers…especially if they’re doing both!”

We smiled at each other. I thought about all the times I had gotten him to smile, and I could count them on one hand. So this smile was a gift in equal sense, and meant more to me than almost anything I could think of.


I missed having a boy to cuddle while watching yet another round of cinematic fantasy on Christmas Eve, but I knew he was busy helping his grandmother prepare for the big meal. His text was sweet:

Miss u, we’ve been singing all day.

The thought of the three of them actually being cheerful was a nice thing to contemplate. I didn’t feel lonely so much as incomplete and yet it was all right…I looked out my living room window to the house across the street. I could see Andrew’s SUV in the driveway, and the windows glowed warm and bright in the relative darkness of the street. I imagined a warm kitchen, Christmas carols playing on the stereo, spiked eggnog, cookies, familial teasing.

And it wasn’t a fantasy.


“Pikkie, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

A cold nose nuzzled my hand…I started awake to find Jasper, Trevor’s retriever, sniffing me with interest. My boy was sitting beside me on the bed.

“Jas, don’t be rude now-now. Y’don’t invade a lady’s bed unless she has said you’re allowed.”

The dog looked chagrined and went to lay down by the door. I looked over at the clock, it was just after midnight.

“Happy Christmas, as your relatives say.”

“Here’s your pressie, milady.”

I smiled and sat up, opening the box presented to me. I laughed to see what was inside: a brand-new roll of duct tape. Trevor grinned and extended his arms out to me, wrists touching.

“If I bind you now, then we can’t play tickle-and-tackle.”

Trevor groaned and fell over sideways, his hair flopping across his face. I gently moved it aside to see those sweet wide eyes looking up at me.

“Fully kussed, you win.”

“Well open your gift, then you can go back to bed.”

“Don’t want a cuddle?”

“I do, but you deserve to get some sleep before the celebration.”

“Pressie, you say? Where, where?!”

Trevor sat up, bouncing like a little kid. I got up and removed a large heavy box from my closet and placed it in front of him. He tore though the wrapping and tissue paper in an instant, making sounds of pleasurable surprise at all the items within. I had bought him various gifts – CDs, sheet music, books, DVDs, a few items of clothing, some sweets and tea from the International shop - figuring one big box of goodies would be enough to make him happy. Then he laughed to see a photo I had printed out which I had placed at the very bottom – two lions, the pair obviously male and female - and the male was biting the female’s ear. Underneath I had written You caught me!

Apparently Trevor wasn’t too tired to tackle me after all.


I appeared at my neighbors’ with plenty of Christmas cheer: a large canvas bag with three bottles of wine, two bottles of champagne, and a bottle of brandy.

“You know us all too well,” Andrew quipped as I was hugged by his mother, who smelled like a strange mixture of sage and shortcake.

“It’s all the good stuff too, so you can’t accuse me of being cheap.”

“With the bonus I gave you I bloody well know it!”

As the components of the meal stewed and baked and simmered – filling the kitchen with an incredible aroma - the matriarch pulled out photo albums and showed me pictures of Andrew and Trevor as children, and I had to figuratively sit on my reactions, as I wanted to squeak like a bath toy to see them both…they almost resembled each other in their respective youths, although I witnessed how their coloring ran in the family from other snapshots. Once the prime rib was out of the oven and resting before being sliced, Trevor gave his Christmas recital, announcing all the songs had been picked by his Gram. It was a mix of sacred and secular and he played it all beautifully. Then Andrew joined him on guitar for “Silent Night,” informing me the song had originally been written for that instrument.

The three conversed through dinner so I didn’t have to worry about being quiet, which was my normal state during gatherings. My mind kept drifting back through time…I was thinking of what Andrew was like thirty years ago…the same, or perhaps a little lighter in his heart. But I thought of the photographs I’d viewed and the same measure of intensity was evident even in his youth.

I offered – no, insisted – upon doing the dishes after dinner. Trevor said he would help, but first went outside to smoke and Andrew followed him, not realizing I was standing at the sink.

“Trev I was thinking…maybe you should move out for the next term. I’d pay for it, of course.”

“Why? Gram wants me here.”

Andrew lowered his voice, but not enough that I couldn’t hear. By the porch light he looked depressed, the lines in his face deepened by shadow.

“D’ya really want to turn out like me, then?”

“Who says I would? Look, I’m sorry that girl broke your heart but it was twenty years ago! If you’re not happy now it’s your own fault. It’s nothing to do with Gram, or the other, not now.”

“I look at you and I see what I could have been. And you should –“

“I’ll be whatever I will, Andy. ‘Sides, you’re the one everyone says I should follow: successful, clever –“

“Is that why you’re so disdainful of me, because you’ve been told all your life you should be like me?”

“Difficult to live up to, hey? But you’ve never taken anyone seriously, y’know. Not saying we should be mates but you could at least not look at me as though I don’t have a thought in my head!”

“I don’t –“

At that moment, I could envision both sides of the argument perfectly. Andrew had a habit of not quite seeing people unless he recognized something within. Trevor did appear reflexively dismissive of his uncle. But they had at least one common link I could name. I was tempted to go fetch her when she appeared beside me.

“Are they arguing again?”

Flustered, I turned my blushing face down to the sink full of suds and dishes. “I’m…not sure.”

She shook her head, making a tsk tsk sound. “Lads, stop jawing now, we’ve company!”

Andrew came inside, pouring himself a cup of tea then retreating to the living room as I watched Trevor move out into the yard, playing a quick game of fetch with Jasper as he finished his cigarette. He was smiling at his dog the way he smiled at me sometimes: simple joy.

It is my own fault. And you are my own miracle.


After the dishes were done we relaxed in the living room, watching It’s A Wonderful Life, which Trevor had never seen.

“This is a great example of a wholly American film,” Andrew said. “Friend of mine made me watch it years ago and then I finally understood you lot.”

“It is,” I agreed. “It’s not really a Christmas movie, but it has a lot of Christmas sentiment in it.”

Trevor and I were seated at opposite ends of the sofa, with Andrew on the love seat and the matriarch in her recliner.

“Isn’t this nice,” she said, giving us all an affectionate look. “All together.”

“All in,” Andrew said, raising his cup of tea and we all picked up our after-dinner beverages and did the same. “Happy Christmas, everyone.”

I turned to Trevor. “I know it’s past, but –“

He smiled. “S’alright. This is lekker, fully.”

We focused on the movie for a time, although all of us had a hard time keeping our eyes open, until finally Andrew’s mother rose up from her chair with a sigh.

“I’m for slumber then,” she declared, with a warm smile.

I stood up and offered a hug. “Thank you so much, it was a lovely dinner.”

“And thank you for your lovely company, dear.”

I brought the cups and saucers into the kitchen and when I returned to the living room, Andrew had fallen asleep. On the television, George Bailey was standing on a very high bridge, contemplating how everyone in Bedford Falls would be better off without him.

“Don’t do it, George!” I cried, and then there was Clarence, swooping in to save him.

“Should we wake him?” Trevor asked, nudging Andrew’s foot slightly. The other snorted and shifted position. I giggled, clapping a hand over my mouth.

“No, let him sleep.” I took a blanket from the sofa and covered him up. Asleep, Andrew’s expression was incredibly sweet, but I was okay with not being able to really enjoy the moment. He looked peaceful, the lines in his face softened by slumber…and pleasant dreams, hopefully.

I followed Trevor outside onto the front steps. He lit a cigarette and tossed the ball to Jasper, who had joined us.

“Now that Christmas is over, have you thought about a New Year’s resolution?”

“Are you trying to tell me I should quit smoking?”

I snickered. “No, I’m not your mother. Just…it’s what people do.”

Trevor scooted closer to me, taking my hand. “No, I haven’t. I s’pose I don’t really make resolutions, I just do whatever it is I think I should do.”

“I think I have one.”

“Yeah?”

Just breathe. Just live. Just love.

“I resolve to…just be.”

Trevor chuckled behind a plume of smoke. “Be wot?”

I put my head on his shoulder. “Be with you.”

“You are with me.”

Jasper returned once more, dropping the ball at Trevor’s feet, tail wagging in a hopeful fashion.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes I am.”