Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Chapter 5 Once You Get Home, All the Old Feelings Come Flooding Back

Chapter 5: Once You Get Home, All the Old Feelings Come Flooding Back

THE FAMILY had been gone by the time Porter had dropped him off at six the night before. There’d been a covered dish in the fridge for him to microwave and a note on the table saying everybody was at choir practice and that he and Porter should make themselves at home.

Porter—who had lived up to his name and brought Andy’s suitcase inside—looked at the note and whistled. “Wow,” he said.

“It’s not my imagination, is it,” Andy stated flatly.

“No. Just….” Porter shook his head. “Dude, I’m so sorry. Have you sent them a picture of—oh.” As he spoke, Andy had stalked to the mantle where the picture of him and Eli that he’d sent them the year before was tucked behind his graduation picture from ten years ago.

Muttering to himself, Andy took down the graduation picture, set Eli up front and center on the mantlepiece, and turned back around to the cold dish on the table.

“Porter, I’ll give you two hundred dollars to take me back to Brooklyn right the hell now.”

Porter rubbed the back of his neck. “No can do, bro. My mom needs her medication, and I need to get her fed. I can come back later tonight—”

“No.” Andy shook his head, feeling bad. “No. You’ve got responsibilities, and dealing with my family crap should not be one of them. Tell your mom I’ll be by tomorrow to chat, and I’ll make do here.” He yawned. “My room probably still has the little TV in there—I’ll hit the hay early and be ready to tear the folks a new one when I wake up.”

“Or, you know, you won’t be tired and cranky and oversensitive and you can deal with this like an adult,” Porter said, and Andy shot him a look that should have peeled paint.

Porter gave a goofy, lopsided grin under his beard, and Andy couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“Well, maybe we can compromise. I’ll wake up feeling like an adult who can have an adult conversation with his parents about the fact that I’m not leaving Brooklyn. How’s that?”

Porter laughed. “Fair.” He sobered. “Seriously, though, if you need me to get you the hell out, brother, I’m here. One of us should.” His face fell wistfully, and Andy’s heart twisted. Not romantically—not even a little—but out of sympathy.

He’d wanted so badly to get out of his little tiny town, but so had Porter. Porter was being the dutiful son, but he was paying for it.

Andy went in for the strictly-bro handclasp with the double-tap fist bump on the back, and Porter took him up on it. Andy half expected a pass, but that’s not what happened. A sincere hug and then a respectful step back.

With a little salute and a wave, Porter was out of there, and Andy was left thinking his friend needed a way out for real.

He ate dinner and unpacked and then wrapped his gifts to put under the tree. He was just about to retire to text Eli when his family arrived.

The girls rushed in first, looking stressed but happy to see him.

“Andy!” Mary Beth first, coming in for a hug at his chest, and he engulfed her completely, like he had when she’d been a little girl. She didn’t look so little now, wearing a tight glittery sweater and glossy pink boots.

“Biminy Beth!” he cried, using the nickname he’d made up for her when he’d been ten and his mother had brought her home. She’d been a happy baby, and he’d spent hours of middle school blowing bubbles on her stomach to make her laugh. She giggled a little bit now, just enough for Andy to smell the brandy on her breath.

He scowled down at her, his eyebrows raised, and she grimaced.

“Don’t tell Mom,” she mouthed, and he grunted unhappily. He and Mary Beth had always been close, but he really didn’t like being the diplomat to the country known as Mom.

“Give me one reason not to,” he murmured, and at that moment, Charlene walked into the kitchen.

“Charlie!” he exclaimed happily, and she gave him a more reserved—but definitely more sober—hug.

“You got in okay?” Charlie asked. “I wanted to go get you, but Mom….” She scowled and shook her head. “ Mom said it was too far to drive, and then she said, ‘Oh, why don’t we ask Porter—he and Andy haven’t caught up in a dog’s age!’ Then Dad looked panicked, but she called Porter anyway.” Charlie blew out a breath. “God, you were so lucky to get the hell out of here.”

Andy shrugged. Yes, his own resentment felt righteous and justified, but seeing it in his younger sister was sobering. Their mother didn’t deserve all of that—she really didn’t. But then, the three of them deserved to fly and be free.

He gave Mary Beth a censorious look, because drunk at choir practice was not acceptable, and as big brother, it put him in a sticky position. “Look, guys, let me take a picture of you to send to Eli, and we can chat in the morning.” He yawned, not feigning in the least. “It was a long day, okay?” He shook his head. “For one thing, we had to stop on the street for at least fifteen minutes while Mrs. Jenkins’s chickens crossed in front of Porter’s truck.”

“Oh God,” Charlie said, clapping her hand over her eyes. “Were they wearing their little jumpers?”

Mary Beth giggled. “They’re adorable , and I swear that’s not just the brandy talking.”

“They really are cute. Where’s Mom and Dad, by the way?” He stood back to line up the shot, frowning for a moment.

“They were having a discussion ,” Charlie said dryly. “I think Dad really wanted to be the one to go pick you up.”

Andy sighed. “That would have been nice,” he admitted. “I gave Porter a hell of a time.” He looked into his camera screen at his sisters—Mary Beth shorter, rounder, more bubbly than Charlene, and Charlie tall and willowy, but both of them with elegant oval faces and rich dark blond hair back in ponytails. Like him, they had ditched all their cold weather gear on the neat hooks in the mudroom entryway of the lodge-style house, and they were wearing happy seasonal sweaters and jeans underneath, as well as thick woolen socks knitted either by their mother or Porter’s.

Andy took a couple of shots and told them thanks while Charlie went to the fridge and broke out a pie with some ice cream.

“We ate dinner early,” she said, “and I’m still starving. Mary Beth, you in?”

Mary Beth nodded and flopped down at the table. “C’mon, Andy, sit down and talk. How’s Rainbow House? And Eli? Did he at least want to come meet us?”

Andy’s heart twisted, knowing that’s probably how it felt to them.

“Of course he wanted to meet you,” he said, sitting down. “A tiny piece, Charlie. I’m still full from dinner.”

“Course,” she said, grinning. “Sour cream apple is always best eaten in tiny little bites.”

He groaned. “Medium. Medium piece. Anyway, Rainbow House is doing good. Eli should be sending me more pictures tonight. They put the tree up in the foyer. It’s always a big deal for the kids.”

“How’s Lola?” Mary Beth asked anxiously. “And Josie?” Perhaps because Mary Beth and Charlie were so close, Andy’s description of the two girls at Rainbow House had pulled at their hearts.

“They’re doing well,” he said. He sought out his little sister’s eyes. “I think Lola’s worried about leaving Rainbow House for school. It’s hard, when you don’t think there will be a home waiting for you after you leave.”

Mary Beth swallowed, looking suddenly vulnerable—and very sober. “No serious stuff,” she said thickly. “Not right now. I keep asking Mom if I can come visit, you know? Like instead of you spending ten days here, how about if I go into the city with you for a few days and volunteer or something. Like, you know, Margie? You sent us pictures before? I want to help kids decorate!” She gave a suspicious sniffle. “All the kids here are spoiled. I asked a kindergartner if he was going to string popcorn for the tree, and he was like, ‘My mother said that for as much as she’s paying for decorations, I’d better not wreck it with art stuff.’”

Andy grimaced and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Well, decorating’s all done, but I’m sure Margie would love your help on another day.” His heart fluttered in his chest a little, mostly with hope. “You know, we got an apartment with a guest bedroom hoping you guys might swing by and visit.” He peered at Mary Beth in hurt. “I mean, you visited NYU and didn’t even tell me? I would have taken an afternoon off and had lunch with you at the very least.”

Mary Beth folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I wanted to,” she growled. “But Mom insisted that it was on an entirely different island and you wouldn’t be able to get there in time. We were at the hotel for two days!”

His eyes widened involuntarily, and Charlie put a comforting hand on his shoulder as she slid a plate in front of him. “Have some carbs, Andy. They’re antimatricidal. And let me see the pictures of the tree. Mom insisted we couldn’t get ours or decorate it until you got here.”

“I’m sorry, you guys. She didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s not your fault, Prince Andrew,” Charlie said, giving him a sly look with her blue eyes. “We know you can’t help being the oldest and a boy and a football hero….”

“Oh God, please stop,” Andy moaned. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who also came out and moved to the city and ruined all her dreams about bringing my family back to Foxglove. You two had the perfect openings to be the perfect children—”

“And then we had to ruin it by getting scholarships to anywhere but here,” Charlie said, plopping down at the table.

He regarded her with pride. “Congratulations, by the way. Porter was all about you and your scholarship to Northwestern to finish up your BA and credential. He really does love you guys.”

“Well, he keeps us sane,” Charlie admitted frankly. She took a giant bite of pie. “Oh my God, how that woman can drive us to eat a pie and then bake the best pie in Vermont is just the definition of irony. Anyway, Porter brings us over to his house to watch anime while his mother naps—he’s so excited about Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventure , and, you know, that kind of thing is catching. It’s all very big city and forbidden, and it’s probably the only reason we both haven’t gone searching out a meth rave in an abandoned warehouse or something and come back addicted and pregnant.”

Andy stared at her in horror. “If I had ovaries, you would have made them shrivel. God, you’re terrifying.”

Charlie let out a sound of exasperation and looked over to where Mary Beth was yawning over her portion of the pie. “Look, I’m not saying I approve of spiking the church eggnog—”

“I didn’t do it.” Mary Beth yawned. “I just took advantage of a prime opportunity.”

“I’m just saying,” Charlie overrode firmly, “that when that’s what we’re doing for fun around here, you should just be glad someone’s having some.”

“Well, you’re both poised on the precipice of something greater,” Andy cautioned. “I mean, c’mon, Mary Beth, can’t you wait a few months until you’re at a dorm party or something? Also, don’t do that. Girls get roofied at dorm parties. Stay away from alcohol altogether. And boys. And raves. And meth.” He blamed that entire panicky attempt at parenting on Charlie, who chortled because she obviously knew it.

“I’m dine ,” Mary Beth hiccupped. “I mean, fine . Anyway I promise not to drink spiked eggnog again until next year if you promise to leave early and take me to Brooklyn for part of this year. Please, Andy? Pretty please? I’ve got to get out of here!”

He was about to say yes, unequivocally yes, please God come use our guest room yes, but at that moment the family juggernaut entered the kitchen from the mudroom, and his chance to hear a thing his sisters had to say was gone.

“ Andy ! Oh my baby, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Andy shoved one more fortifying bite of pie into his mouth and swallowed it hastily before he stood up to greet the enemy.

“Mom! I thought you two were going to freeze out there—become ’rentcicles. Glad you came inside!”

Cindy Chambers was a midsized, slender woman in her mid-fifties, one of those balls of energy that everybody assumed was much younger. She volunteered with her church and with her women’s group and knitted for charity and baked cookies for charity and was basically exhausting on every level. Her hair was tinted blond and artfully tousled, and her eyes were Andy’s shade of sky blue—but her nose was tiny and pert, and bless her, she’d managed to pass it on to Mary Beth, although Charlie had a slightly more aquiline nose, inherited from her father.

It wasn’t that his mother was a bad person, Andy thought grimly as he gave his mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek; it was that she was a strong-willed person, but she hadn’t had a really good place to wield that will. She could have been a congresswoman or a world leader or run a nonprofit in a third-world country, but she’d been born and raised in a small town, and her children were her small country, and she was having trouble deciding whether or not to be a dictator or a diplomat.

She was, in fact, both, which was frustrating as hell.

“Your father and I were just mulling a few things over,” Cindy said, laughing merrily. Andy caught his father’s expression over Cindy’s head and grimaced.

“Divorce?” he mouthed, and the way Matt Chambers shook his head, Andy was pretty sure that no, maybe not a divorce in their future, but it was probably a near thing.

“Well,” Andy said firmly, wanting to get his two cents in about this, “while you’re mulling, the next time you tell me I absolutely have to be home by a time, and then you send Porter out to get me, is going to be the next time I don’t come home but turn around and catch the next train back to Brooklyn.”

“Oh, honey,” his mother said, looking indulgently dismayed. “That’s no way to be about your old boyfriend—”

“He’s my friend, Mom, and you threw me at him like I was a steak and he was a dog. It demeaned us both. I’m serious about this. Next time, it’s you or Dad or one of the girls, but Porter is working two jobs and taking care of his mother, and it wasn’t fair to do that to his time.”

His mother swallowed and looked down, then smiled briefly again, a conciliatory smile. “I wasn’t trying to—”

Andy’s temper—which had cooled off a little when he was talking to Mary Beth and Charlie—tried to flare up again. “Sure you were,” he said with a sigh. “Mom, I’m living with someone I love very much. Someone I’ve tried to convince will have my family as his family when we marry. You don’t make a very good case for that when you’re trying to set me up with my old boyfriend just to get me to move back to Foxglove.”

She flushed. “That was never my intention,” she said stiffly. “I was just trying to point out that you have friends here too.”

“I have a friend, Mom. And he’s like my brother, but I’m not moving back here for him.” Andy didn’t do temper well, and he found his burst of it fading. “But sit down. Talk to me. Tell me about choir practice. How’s the Christmas pageant doing?”

The Christmas pageant was one of two town events that people poured their hearts into in Foxglove. The other was the Fourth of July pageant, which Andy had managed to be a part of every year even after he left home, but that paled in comparison to the fervor over the Christmas pageant.

Every mother tried to bake the most cookies, and every father tried to put up the most lights. Every young homemaker worked to create their first quilt or their first afghan to give to the city charity stores, and prizes were given for the best homemade item and the church that raised the most for the disadvantaged. It was an orgy of giving, and much of it was for a good cause. The choir crawl literally lasted all of Christmas Eve—each of the three churches had a fifteen-minute presentation at a different part of the hour for twelve hours straight. Practically every man, woman, and child was showcased in the town, talented or not, and Andy sort of missed the days when he got to solo. He’d loved choir so much more than football, truth be told, but choir wasn’t going to get him the scholarship or the help through school, which he’d always thought of as a damned shame.

But what mattered for the Christmas pageant was the involvement. The entire town came together, quite literally, during the tree-lighting ceremony the week before Christmas. They all but held hands and sang the Whoville song from The Grinch , and the only reason they didn’t was because they needed the rights to that song, and there wasn’t room in it for a solo.

Part of Andy’s mom’s insistence that he come home for Christmas was wanting his participation and wanting the family together. Part of that he got. If the girls were leaving home, this could be one of the last times in a while all the kids did get together in one group.

But that didn’t mean Andy welcomed his mother’s meddling.

So the question about the Christmas pageant was something of a peace offering; it was a way to tell his mother he was happy to help while he was there.

What he got in return was a barrage of places, dates, times, and Christmas obligations that left his head swimming and had him yawning as he sat, chin resting on his palm, as he tried to stay upright at the table.

Like he had when Andy was a kid, his father came to his rescue.

“Cindy, give the boy a break. He’s asleep where he’s sitting. It’s been a long day for him—the train, the car trip here. How were the roads, Andy?”

Andy struggled to sit up. “Rough,” he mumbled. “Good thing Porter’s truck is indestructible. I still feel bad that he had to drive all the way down to get me.”

“Well, your mother promised him help with his mother over the holiday,” his father said. “Here, son, let me guide you to your room.”

“We should be helping with his mom anyway,” Andy grumbled. “He gave up his entire future to come here. He should get days off to go to the city and get laid!”

His father chuckled sadly. “You’re right there, son, but I’m not sure how to arrange that. Slim pickings up here for guys like you and Porter.”

Andy wanted to grump, but his father’s hand at the middle of his back, guiding him down the hallway, kept him from getting snippy. Nothing but love and acceptance from his parents from the moment he came out onward, and even for Porter, too, when they realized that what they’d thought of as two guys bonding was really, well, two guys bonding . So no, being gay had never been a problem for his family, and he was grateful. He’d seen what those prejudices had done to Eli as a teenager, and it had made him cherish his family even more.

But by the same token, all that love they had for him made them want him home, and it was such a pervasive heartbeat of a tune that it was starting to drive him away as much as urge him back to the nest on the odd holiday.

All of which he put out of his mind as he curled up in bed to text Eli. A part of him wished Eli was here , to help him laugh at his family a little, to assure him Mary Beth was not going to get pregnant at a meth rave, and to remind him that he was loved, he’d been provided for, and he had too many blessings to count.

But most of him—the adult part of him—wanted to be there , to celebrate another successful Christmas tree, to talk about Lola and Josie, and to look across the river to the Manhattan skyline from Marsha P. Johnson Park. His childhood bed was too small, and his family loved him, but they were the family from his childhood as well. He was a better adult with Eli, and in a way, he was almost afraid of Eli seeing him with his parents.

Eli might find out he wasn’t a superhero after all.

Back Then

“HEY, ELI, come over here and sign this,” Andy muttered, doing paperwork on the dinner table. They’d moved in together in August, and while they waited for a desk to put in the tiny “den” off the guest room, paperwork, office work, all of it was done at the little table off the counter.

“More lease stuff?” Eli complained from the other room. He was exhausted, Andy knew, because he’d fallen asleep while Andy had been loading the dishwasher. They’d gotten a sudden influx of residents in September. Eli told him that it happened after school started and the kid who’d been alone in his or her or their head all summer, questioning their sexuality and identity, suddenly came into contact with peers and the whole situation crystalized.

And then the parents got into the act and everything went to shit.

“No, just some health insurance stuff.” Andy made sure everything had printed out, and the scanner—which currently sat on the kitchen counter—was ready to scan Eli’s signed paper. He wasn’t really paying attention to Eli’s reaction until Eli was suddenly standing at the table, looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t have insurance,” he murmured. “I mean, the basic stuff, but you know. Don’t bring me in even if I’m dying, and even then, don’t call an ambulance because you’ll be paying for my rotting corpse forever.”

“Yes, Eli, I know that,” Andy said with grim humor. “That’s why we’re doing this—so you don’t have to give up a limb to save another one.”

Eli had sprained his wrist when they’d been moving in. Andy had danced around him, freaking out about maybe it was a break and shouldn’t they see the doctor, and Eli had snapped, “And pay the hundred-dollar copay, are you kidding me?” Then he’d wrapped a tube sock—a TUBE SOCK—around his wrist and tied it tight using his teeth and had proceeded to pick up the kitchen stool he’d been moving and finish the job.

The first thing Andy had done when he’d gone back to work that Monday had been to go to HR and ask for the paperwork to put his life partner on his health insurance, and God bless New York and his progressive company for not making that a pain in the ass.

“But what does it say?” Eli muttered. “Wait, I’m on your health insurance? How’s that work?”

“You’re a member of my household now,” Andy replied patiently. “See. The box checked there for Partner? Yes. You. Eli. My partner. It’s almost romantic, except when it’s romantic I get to check Husband, which I would like to do someday.”

Eli’s eyes grew humongous. “But… Andy. This is permanent!”

“Well, yes. So’s moving in.”

“But I could always move out!” Eli protested, and if Andy hadn’t known—at least a little—where this was coming from, that sentence alone would have broken his heart.

“Yes, but I could also drop dead tomorrow. Bad ticker.” He clutched his chest and grinned. “But odds are good that I won’t. And if I do—” He held up another sheaf of papers that he’d just finished signing. “—I’ve got insurance and a trust.” He gave Eli a mock suspicious look. “You’re not thinking of, you know, offing me for the apartment now, are you? I mean, we just moved here. Let me at least get my desk and chair and stuff.”

Eli stared at him, his lower lip wobbling. “Don’t even joke about that,” he rasped.

Oh God. Could Andy ever do this right? “Then don’t joke about moving out,” Andy replied, letting his hurt show. “I just got you here. I like you.” He turned his kitchen stool enough to pull Eli close, his hands on Eli’s hips. “I like sex on tap.” He offered a big, toothy grin to make Eli laugh—and it worked, thank God.

“I’m just worried. What if you, you know, regret putting me on your insurance. I mean, life and death decisions and stuff.”

“So you’re saying you’ll pull the plug?” Andy asked, keeping his face straight.

“You’re being obnoxious,” Eli told him, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you’re making this way too complicated. Is it too much to ask that the next time you sprain something, we can get a nurse to wrap it up in a bandage instead of rubbing some dirt on it and using a tube sock?”

Eli’s lips twitched. “The tube sock really bothered you?”

“It offended me to my toes,” Andy reassured him. “Now sign the paper, because you were falling asleep, and now that I mentioned sex on tap, I want some.”

And that got an actual laugh out of him. Andy felt like it was a win. He especially felt like it was a win when Eli signed the damned papers and then kissed him, wide-awake and wanting.

It was funny how some of the least romantic moments of a relationship could mean so very much. Andy was pretty sure he’d be celebrating the signing of insurance papers for the rest of his life.

And Now

“ANDY! ANDY darling, are you up yet?”

Andy kicked futilely at the baseboard of the bed he’d slept in until he’d left for college. A full-sized pedestal bed that used to hold his clothes but now seemed to hold as much yarn as Porter’s mother’s house, the bed was a little too short for full-grown Andy, and the blankets? Forgetaboutit. He’d needed to grab two more from the closet to cover him from toes to nose, which was absolutely imperative because his parents didn’t believe in turning on the heater until the temperature dipped below fifty-five degrees in the house.

“Andy!” His mother poked her head into Andy’s room and gave a chirpy little smile. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Sure I am.”

“Don’t be grumpy. Now, I called Porter’s mother, and she said you were planning to go over and visit, which is great, because I need you and Porter to make cookies for the Christmas pageant today so we can provide them for our family’s little moment in the sun. Then you need to get home tonight in time for dinner so we can practice our Christmas carols. Did I forget anything?”

“That this is my vacation?” he grumbled.

“There’s no vacation over Christmas,” she contradicted gaily. “Now the girls and I are going to Lewiston for pageant costumes—”

“Please God, no.”

“Don’t be snippy. They’ve got some of those adorable novelty Christmas sweaters on sale.”

“Mom, why don’t we just wear what you’ve made us? I mean, we get a new sweater every year. I brought a couple, and I wear them to the office all winter.”

Suddenly his mother stopped, a look of such simple joy on her face that he cursed himself for being an insensitive boob.

“You do?” she asked, as eager as a child.

“Yeah. I do. Everyone at work is jealous, I swear.” It was true. When he was a kid, Mom’s hand-knit sweaters were a cross to be borne, but as an adult? Each one was an individualized creation that would have sold for an obscene amount of money at a local boutique but that Andy just threw on. He’d been dying— dying —for her to make Eli one, and he thought this might be the moment.

“Oh,” she said, her voice small. “That’s so sweet.”

He opened his mouth to ask her about Eli’s sweater, thinking that this moment of quiet might last, but no, not with Cindy Chambers. His mom fanned her face and said, “Well, as sweet as that is, I’m afraid I didn’t knit for the whole family to match, and we need costumes. It won’t cost much, and we’ll be home in time to bring takeout.”

Andy grimaced. Compared to New York, takeout choices were very limited. “Panda Express?” he asked, remembering when the franchise had arrived in the neighboring town when he was in eighth grade and the entire family had celebrated small victories with takeout from Panda Express.

She bobbed her head excitedly.

“Your favorite!” she chirped. “Now hurry up and get dressed. Porter’s mother is expecting you just after breakfast!”

He nodded and tried to pull on his big boy jammies. “Sure, but Mom, before you go, I need to talk to you about Eli.”

The look on his mother’s face was… what? Dismayed? A little frightened? Sad?

“Honey, he can miss you for ten days—”

“Yes, but it would be great if you guys could meet him!” Andy said, but the last part was called to her retreating back.

“Sorry, we’ll talk about this at dinner,” she promised, pretty much as she ran across the house and out the door.

Well, shit. Apparently he was baking cookies today and adulting when he could pin his mother by her tailfeathers some way she couldn’t escape.

But thinking about Eli—and remembering moments from their past—had him pulling his phone up from the charger where he’d plugged it the night before.

Good morning, sunshine, he texted, after grabbing a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of moccasins to ward off the chill. Sleep well?

Oh I wish came the irritated answer. There was a pause while the little bubbles danced on the text screen, and then a picture came through.

Oh no! Andy stared at the picture in dismay, wondering how on earth he was going to help Eli through this when he was a more than four hundred miles away.