Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

19. Nichol

Chapter 19

Nichol

Mr. Hunkly Dory

“ I can get Katie to pick me up… or Anthony, he’s probably closing up the practice now.” Nichol attempts to refuse Teddy insisting on giving him a ride home as he locks the shop door.

“I’m heading to the gym, I’ll take you home.” Teddy slugs his duffle bag up on his shoulder and nods for Nichol to follow him into the alley, around the corner.

Teddy’s jeans hug his glutes as he struts toward the little truck, still piled with snow. He sweeps his arm over the hood and then the windshield to push a good portion away.

“Hop in, I’ll clean it off while it warms up.” The sweet baker hauls his squawking door open, tossing his bag behind the driver’s seat and collecting the brush-scraper tool.

“I can help,” Nichol offers.

“There’s only one of these, and it’s freezing, just get in.” Teddy chuckles.

Nichol gratefully obliges, watching comfortably—though not warmly—from inside the cab, as Teddy works at clearing the windshield in front of him, and then presses his whole chest against the window at Nichol’s side, stretching to reach the crusty piles on the roof.

A visual of auburn-haired mounds, with pink nipples, crushed against glass, enters Nichol’s mind. He drops his eyes to the floor and shifts his thighs to cut off the blood supply rushing toward inconvenient places.

By the time Teddy finishes, a hint of warmth is just starting to blast through the vents. He rubs his cold-reddened hands together, huffing breath into his palms and waving them in front of the heater, until they’re pale again, before shifting the truck into gear.

When they reach their destination, Nichol sighs at the sight of his parent's car parked behind Anthony’s 4Runner and Katie’s mini-van in the driveway.

A collection of shadowy figures appears in the picture window of the living room on the upper level, looking down as he exits the truck and makes his way toward the house.

The little truck backs out of the driveway and grumbles on, down the road, with a quick double-toot of the horn.

Nichol takes a deep winter inhale as he pushes the door open and enters the split stair foyer.

“There he is.” Rebecca is standing at the top step grinning down her nose.

“Hey.” Nichol slowly trudges up each rise but meets his mother with a hug. “Katie says you’re working at Buttercup… with Theodore Monroe?” Her face is lit with hopeful anticipation.

“I’m helping him out until I get back to Seattle.” He squashes that joyful interpretation quickly.

Her hope dims slightly. “And you didn’t come home last night?” Her eyes spark back up.

“Mom.” Katie calls abruptly from the kitchen. “Dinner is ready.”

“We got drinks at a bar, and I crashed on his futon.” Nichol deflects, without lying.

“C’mon,” Carl wraps Nichol in one arm for a quick hug. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Nichol protests.

“You’re too thin, get in here,” Rebecca demands.

Nichol flares his nostrils but follows into the kitchen where Anthony and Max are already sitting in front of their plates. Stuart is circling table-legs and around their feet, wagging his curly tail.

Rebecca and Carl claim seats.

Katie passes Nichol a plate of steak, mashed potatoes and charred asparagus soaking in melting blobs of butter.

He claims a chair across from Max, who’s staring at him accusingly.

Nichol pokes his tongue out at the child, whose furrowed brow relaxes with the edge of his mouth, curling into a slight grin.

Nichol barely stabs his steak with his fork and slides the knife between prongs when his mother starts in.

“Nichol, do you remember Brett Hinkley?” She shoves a heap of mashed potatoes into her mouth and stares in his direction. Covering her lips with her fingers, she adds, “He was a year ahead of Katie in school.”

He avoids meeting her eyes. “Nope,” he says shortly and taps Max’s shin with his toe, under the table.

The boy grimaces, aiming a piece of asparagus off the tip of his fork, drawn back like a catapult, ready to launch, and smiles.

Nichol flashes a warning smirk and a threatening nod toward Katie at Max’s side.

The boy backs down, gritting teeth on the asparagus with a snarled lip.

“He’s Max’s teacher now.” Rebecca carries on.

“Yeah?” Nichol swigs cola from the yellow acrylic cup that’s lived in the house as far back as his childhood.

“He’s single.” She hints pointedly.

“Are you going to ask him out?” Nichol gibes.

The other adults at the table chuckle.

“I ran into him at the Shop-n-Stop tonight, and was telling him that you’re here in town for a bit . . .” she pauses.

“Mom.” Katie butts in.

Rebecca waves away the interjection. “I got his number, and told him you’d be calling.”

“What?” Nichol’s jaw hangs, with his mouth full of mush.

“Rebecca!” Carl barks.

“What?” She shrugs, obliviously.

“Mr. Hinkly really is very cute…” Katie teases. “We all call him Mr. Hunkly,” she adds, with a wink.

“I’m seeing someone.” Nichol blurts.

The entire table freezes with all eyes on him.

“That’s all I’m going to say at this time,” His face burns and he dumps cola down his throat. “Phew, I’m stuffed.” He leans over to pet Stuart and passes the goofy pug a chunk of steak.

“That’s great Nick.” Carl cheers.

“Who? Since when?” Rebecca pleads for more information.

“It’s new, and I’m not going to jinx it.” Nichol declares.

Rebecca opens her mouth to speak . . .

“Dessert?” Anthony interrupts.

Nichol would kiss the man, if he weren’t his brother-in-law.

“I made a cherry cobbler.” Katie says, adding, “And there’s still some cookies in the jar that Teddy sent home with Nichol the other day.” She eyes Nichol with a piercing suspicion.

“I’ve got to do some laundry tonight.” He comments, trying to escape the interrogation. “Then I’m going to bed early… Back at the bakery by 6,” he chimes, gathering his plate and rising off his chair.

“Your mother and I need to stop into the bakery and order some goodies for the holiday party.” Carl contributes to the conversation.

“You can let me know what you need, and I will relay the message to Teddy.” Nichol scrapes his plate into the garbage disposal, flicking it on, to drown out any more chatter aimed his way. Especially from his mother, twisting in her chair, appearing full of questions. “Leave a list here and I’ll take it with me tomorrow.”

“Max and I can give you a ride in the morning, we’re going into the school early. He has a field trip to the Natural History Museum and I’m chaperoning.” Katie rolls her eyes.

“Great,” Nichol responds, hurrying to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

“Get back here,” Rebecca demands.

Giving up on escaping, he trudges back, through the archway, and meets her as she’s rising from her chair spreading her arms for a hug.

“Goodnight.” She kisses his cheek.

“Night,” Carl adds, patting Nichol’s shoulder.

Nichol ruffles his father’s hair and makes his escape to the basement, shutting himself away in the childhood bedroom that’s no longer his own.