Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
My hands were shaking when I hung up the phone, and Marilyn was sitting at my feet, looking up at me like she was worried about me.
The next night, I snuck into the bathroom after Rex was asleep and left another message.
“Colin, it’s Daniel. Look, I’m mad at you, but I still want to talk to you, okay? I want to know what the fuck’s going on with you. Why were you so horrified when you found out I was gay? Because I know you weren’t faking that. You almost killed Buddy when you found us together. I just want to know why. Please call me back, okay?”
“Do you know any of his friends he might go stay with?” Rex asks. “Any of them you could call?”
“No. I don’t know any of his friends. I don’t even know if he has any. If he hasn’t talked to Brian and Sam then he hasn’t talked to anyone.”
I stare out the window, the snow suddenly seeming oppressive instead of magical. I try to shake it off, though, because today is supposed to be about the Christmas tree—about making Rex happy.
“He’s probably with that man, don’t you think?” I ask. “The one from the funeral?”
“That makes sense,” Rex says. But I’m not so sure.
WE SPEND a lazy day decorating the tree with some tinsel and lights that Rex says he found in his workshop but that I suspect he may have bought especially for us. Marilyn is confused to see a tree inside and we have to keep taking her outside to stop her from peeing on it.
“I’ll take her,” I say when she circles the tree again as Rex is about to start dinner.
Outside, a few more inches of snow have fallen since this morning and the scene of snow-draped pine trees outside Rex’s cabin, with its warmly glowing windows, looks like a postcard that I can’t believe I can walk into it. I fiddle with my phone, flipping it open and shut uncertainly until it almost breaks in half. Jesus, I really need to get a new phone. I mentally add it to the ever-increasing list of shit I need to buy in a couple of paychecks.
I flip the phone open and call Colin before I can change my mind. But, of course, it goes right to voice mail.
“Colin,” I say, my teeth chattering. “I have this memory. At least, I think it is. I’m not totally sure it really happened, but… if it did…. It’s—it was a snow day at school and I came home early. You were in bed, drunk, and I remember Dad’s pills, for his back. Anyway, I remember a lot of them, Colin, and I just. I wanted to make sure—I wanted to see if…. Look, just don’t do anything fucking stupid, all right, you asshole? Because I…. Just, please be okay. Okay?”
I’M LYING in front of the fire, groaning, stuffed so full of Christmas brunch that I can barely move. I don’t even know how I’m going to be able to eat the roast chicken Rex is making for dinner. If I tip my head back a little, I can see the lights on the Christmas tree reflecting in the window, making it look like I’m surrounded by trees. Last night, Christmas Eve, Rex and I watched Little Women, which is one of Rex’s favorite Christmas movies—the 1933, Katherine Hepburn version, not, Rex explained, the 1949 one with Elizabeth Taylor. It was pretty good, actually, though I never cared for the novel. If one of my brothers burned the only existing manuscript of my book, he would be in a world of pain.
We watched because Rex told me how he and his mother used to have a set of Christmas movies they watched every year and how he hadn’t done it since she died. Their lineup was Little Women, Holiday Affair, It Happened on Fifth Avenue, and The Bishop’s Wife. He was shocked to hear that I’d never even heard of any of them except Little Women and hadn’t actually seen a single one. I made it about twenty minutes into Holiday Affair before falling asleep and drooling all over Rex, so we went to bed instead.
Now, Rex is in his workshop doing something mysterious that he wandered off to after brunch when I collapsed on the rug to try and digest. Presumably, it’s something to do with a Christmas present, since we’re about to exchange them.
I have Rex’s present hidden in the closet. I really wasn’t sure what to get him. Everything either seemed too generic—music, clothes—or so expensive I didn’t have a prayer of affording it. Like, probably there are some tools or something that he’d like for his workshop, but hell if I know what they would be even if I could afford them. I thought about something for the kitchen, but it’s pretty well stocked, and I wouldn’t know where to start there, either. I hope he likes what I finally landed on. I felt pretty good about it last week, but now I’m nervous it’s not a good idea.