Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

10. Teddy

Chapter 10

Teddy

About Last Night...

A jingling bell and the familiar sweep of the front door over the “ Have a butterful day” welcome mat, jars Teddy from his sleep. He peels his cheek, and then his belly, off the futon mattress, pushing up with both arms. His head spins and throbs furiously as his guts churn.

“Hello… Theodore?” Principal Butler calls out.

Shit, the door is unlocked!

Teddy’s elbow brushes against Nichol’s bare back, reminding him of last night’s company, but the evening's events are a blurry haze. He carefully stands, clutching his temples and notices GiGi, poking her head out of her hidey den, with a beast glare.

“Sorry girl, I’ll feed you in a minute,” he whispers, scurrying to collect a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the metal locker, tucked behind the office door, frantically pulling them onto his body, while trying to keep the sour contents of his belly down.

He closes the door behind himself, enters the kitchen, and steps up to the counter. “Hi, Mr. Butler.” He attempts a warm smile but doesn't think he's managed to hide the throbbing pain in his head and gurgling sickness in his stomach.

“Good morning…” The principal pauses. “Just the usual today,” he furrows his brow with worry.

Teddy stomps barefoot to the coffee pot, collects the plastic pitcher, and shuffles back to the sink. “I didn’t get donuts made for today, can I interest you in some cookies or cupcakes instead?” He twists the faucet to full blast and floods the container, then moves back to the coffee pot and begins the brew.

“It looks like you’ve been busy.” Mr. Butler’s wide eyes scan the scattered array of plastic film-covered treats. “I’ll take some of both, actually. The staff might like a change,” he says, smiling. “Have you got a big order to fulfill?”

“No, I just went overboard yesterday.” Teddy squints against the bright golden sunlight pulsing through the storefront window. “What flavors would you like?”

“Surprise me. I’ll take a dozen cupcakes and two dozen cookies,” he cheers, grinning and propping his glasses up to the ridge of his nose with an index finger. “Late night?” His eyes are fixed on the counter.

Teddy’s face boils, and he swipes up the empty booze bottles and pair of tumblers, tucking them under the counter, out of sight. “Forgot to set my alarm for this morning,” he mutters, avoiding eye contact.

Principal Butler chuckles.

Teddy stumbles around the kitchen, lifting plastic wrap edges to collect various sweets from random trays, compiling them into pastry boxes, then wraps the boxes in pink ribbons, secured with bows just like Gram always did.

He returns to the coffee pot and fills a large to-go cup with fresh brew. “Fifteen dollars today Mr. Butler,” he says, smiling with grit teeth as he steps up to the cash register.

“For all of this? Nonsense.” Principal Butler protests.

The aluminum gate behind the office door rattles before it swings open and the beautifully frazzled Nichol stumbles out to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm and stuffing crumpled-up socks in his pocket. His t-shirt is inside out, and the fly of his jeans is still unzipped.

Principal Butler’s jaw hangs for a moment before a soft grin spreads across his face. “Good morning, Nicholas Anderson.”

Nichol halts, crinkling his forehead with big blinks, to reset his eyes. “Morning… Mr. Butler?” he says with a groggy tone.

Teddy freezes with his mouth agape, before his eyes dart, back and forth, between the principal and the overnight guest.

“Visiting your family for the holidays?” Principal Butler asks Nichol, handing Teddy a fifty-dollar bill. “Will that cover it?”

Teddy nods slowly and swallows hard.

Principal Butler returns his attention to Nichol—zipping his fly—and waits for a reply.

“Yep.” Nichol winks with an impish smirk.

“They must be excited?” Principal Butler collects his boxes and cup.

“Sure.” Nichol shrugs.

“Good to see you.” The principal turns toward the door.

Teddy hurries around the counter and pulls the entry open for Mr. Butler’s exit.

“Have a good day, Theodore.” The principal winks, passing by, as he strolls out the door.

The bell jingles as Teddy swiftly closes it again.

“That’s a blast from the past.” Nichol chuckles.

Teddy’s face is a bright red ember, averting his eyes, he rushes to the washroom, shutting the door with a swift sweep of his arm, and folds over the toilet. Everything in his stomach empties in two retching heaves.

He hovers over the sink before splashing his face with cool water, breathing deep, and shaking off the stars plaguing his vision.

When he opens the door, Nichol is standing there, offering up a glass of water. “Here,” he says.

“Thank you.” Teddy accepts and swigs the cool liquid.

“You good?” Nichol quirks a brow.

“Yeah,” Teddy breaks for air.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Nichol folds his arms across his chest, flagging a limp wrist, pointing a finger at the front door.

“Umm . . .” Teddy pauses to reflect.

“I’m happy to corroborate whatever story you want to tell… if he happens to gossip.” Nichol shifts his weight onto one hip and kicks a foot out.

Teddy stares blankly.

“If you’re straight , it’s cool… Secret’s safe with me.” Nichol spins on his heel and marches to the stools, collecting his coat, draped over one, and jingling the rental key fob from its pocket.

“Wait, what?” Teddy smooths down his beard with the swipe of his palm. “That’s not the case at all . I’m gay, everyone knows, “ he chuffs.

“Okay… good,” Nichol says, relieved. “I’m going to use the bathroom and I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, moving toward the door.

“Do you want some coffee?” Teddy says, as his bare feet slap on the tile floor, trotting toward the coffee pot.

“Sure,” Nichol calls from the bathroom.

Teddy pours two medium cups, setting them on the counter and gathering oat milk from the fridge. He adds it to each cup with two packets of sweetener for his own, and takes a sip, returning the milk to the fridge.

Nichol emerges from the washroom with his hair dampened and sculpted into place and his t-shirt flipped right-side-out.

“Thank you.” He collects the steaming cup from the counter, blowing over the rippling surface, and sips with a satisfied moan.

“Hungry?” Teddy isn’t ready for him to leave.

Nichol grimaces at first, but then shrugs and nods. “Sure.”

“I can make us some eggs… bacon… toast?” He lists off options while browsing the contents of the fridge.

“Eggs and toast sound good.” Nichol lifts a leg over a stool and settles down, draping his coat over the next, taking another sip of coffee.

Teddy goes to work, firing up the stove—after moving a tray of cookies—plops four eggs into a cast-iron frying pan and four slices of bread into the toaster oven. He peers back at Nichol with a soft smile. All of last night’s aftermath has left his temples and his stomach is settled.