The stress of making the right call was sure to give me an aneurysm by the time Christmas Eve came.
“Good, good,” my father praised. “A Claus’ work is never done. Enjoy it my boy, this will be a week you will never forget. Your first Christmas will always be your most special.”
A small scoff came from the other side of the table and all our eyes landed on Kris, leaning back, one arm slung casually over the chair and pushing peas back and forth around his plate. His still damp hair hanging over his face in messy onyx curls just like his mother’s.
Although unlike his mother’s long curly locks, Kris kept his hair cropped shorter at the sides, keeping the top longer so the curls nestled across his forehead in haphazard waves that made him look like he had either just climbed out of bed or spent hours styling them to lie in just the right spot.
“Something to add, Kris?” My father’s eyes turn hard, eyebrows raising. The soft, playful nature that had surrounded him as Santa Claus seemed lost on Kris.
They had a knack for butting heads, and it seemed like they couldn’t agree on anything, no matter the topic.
“No, sir.” He waves his finger in mock salute, not even bothering to look up from his food.
My father straightens in his chair, his whole body stiffening as he took in Kris.
His band tee with the sleeves cut off covered most of the muscles I had stared at for far too long before, only a sliver of skin showing on each side of his ribs and his chiseled arms.
Just by looking at Kris you could tell he spent all day working with his hands. His forearms had a definition to them that I could only dream of. Sculpted with deep veins noticeable as he grips his fork tighter, fully aware of the scrutiny that he’s now under.
“Since you’re so eager to join the conversation, Kris, how is the sleigh going?” My father’s grip turns white against the wide bottom of his brandy glass, waiting for Kris’ response.
“It’s going.”
“That is not what I have been hearing.” My father huffs into his glass as he takes a deep pull of the amber liquid.
“Oh.” Kris drops his fork and stares up at my father, a challenge radiating in his eyes, “And what have you been hearing, Klaus?”
“That you have been fucking half of the elf population and too busy to actually get the one job we trusted you to complete on time?” Spit flies from my father’s mouth, his jarring words startling Carol enough to drop her own fork as she covers her mouth.
“Jeez. I’m surprised old Theodore could even get those words out, since he practically cried when I said the word fuck this afternoon.” His casual words fell in stark contrast to his body language, poised ready to fight my father.
“I can’t believe I even trusted you with such an important job. You’d think at twenty-nine you would have gotten your shit together enough to actually show some responsibility around here.” Kris’ fists clench on the table before he pulls them out of sight, dropping them to his lap.
“I had higher hopes for you, but I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the useless tree.” Carol gasps at the jab of Kris’ biological father.
The way Kris' dad left Carol and him to fend for themselves was not something we ever discussed. It was a low blow, even for him.
Carol’s eyes flick over to Kris, tears brimming her lashes as she inhales a small shuddering breath before attempting to excuse herself from the table.
My father, realizing his mistake, places a hand over his wife’s before she could stand. Rubbing his thumb in circles as he speaks to her, hushed whispers of apology, soothing the burn of his careless words.
My attention drifts back to Kris, who sits silent, glaring a hole through the table, his knife and fork gripped tightly in his hands.
Although it wasn’t the right time for indulging in fantasies, I couldn’t help but imagine his large, rough hands firmly holding onto my pulsing dick, his forearms displaying the sculpted muscles he had developed through the daily use of his tools.
His gaze slowly drifts up, looking between my father and Carol and dropping to their joined hands, lip curling as Carol nods something in agreement with my father.
Slamming back his chair, the legs scrape across the hardwood floors in an ear splitting squeak, the glassware shuddering under his movement.
“Fuck this.” He spits, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. Drawing in a lung full before blowing it dramatically over the table.
“Kris?” my father stammers, his eyes pleading.
Kris, threw one hurt look back at his mom before flipping off the table over his head as he made his exit.
“Merry FUCKING Christmas,” he barks back before slamming the front door so hard the windowpanes rattle.
Chapter threeNick
December 20th
After Kris’ dramatic exit, Carol continued to cry silently next to me. I place a soothing hand on her back before standing and gathering everyone’s dishes as my father coos his apologies in her ear.
Normally, the sight would make me feel jealous, wishing for a love like theirs. Now I felt a burning anger and the need to protect Kris.
I understood the pressure to ensure that everything ran smoothly this week, but calling Kris out implying he was useless, like his deadbeat father, was a low blow.
I clean the dishes in silence, staring out the window at the snow covered paradise that was my village. My father and Carol continue to speak in hushed voices in the other room. My anger simmers with every passing minute.
After what felt like nearly an hour had passed, Carol joins me in the kitchen, eyes now red and blotchy.
“Thank you Nick. I appreciate your help tonight.” She gives me a weak smile as she takes the snowflake covered tea towel from my hands and picks up the last platter from the sink.
“I just don’t know what to do for him. Haven’t we given him everything?” Her voice breaking as she pauses, leaning onto the counter, closing her eyes as her shoulders drop.
“I have been hearing great things about him too, Carol.” She looks back at me with a glimpse of fractured hope. “All reports that have come to me say he is one of the best mechanics we have. If he says the sleigh will be ready on time, I trust him.” That was the truth. I would trust Kris with my entire world if only I had the guts to give it to him.
She quickly gathered me up in the same warm embrace she had given me since I was fifteen. Still grieving for a mother while trying to welcome a new family.
