“So you want him to do something artistic with a vat of Jello…oh? I see…you want to be in the vat of Jello?” I exchange glances with my brother.
“No way.” He whispers it, and rolls his eyes. “Nightmares for life.”
r32;“I’ll let him know the concept. Yes, he’ll get back to you. Bye now.” I slam the phone down. “Who have you been giving your card to?”
“It must have been one of Claudio’s people,” Adam shrugs. “Hey, at least they’re calling. I have six private clients lined up for the next month, and Claudio says he’s going to spotlight my work for fall fashion week. Business is blooming El. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He kisses me on the cheek, and it gets me to smile. A month ago, when I finally started to smile again, it felt strange, but now I’m used to the feeling again. I’ve come a long way since that night. I guess you could say…I’ve come back to life. It’s been a slow process and for awhile, I never thought I’d be able to. When I first came out here I would lay in bed most days, removed from society because I was still so embarrassed about what Jules and Max had done to me. It wasn’t even just the episode on Christmas, it was everything they’d done since my dad had married Jeanine. They’d turned me into this closed off shell of a person, who feared everything and everyone. Even though I was across the country and no one knew me, I was convinced if I stepped outside someone that knew Max or Jules would see me, and make my life a living hell all over again.
Adam has helped so much. He has really awesome friends out here that have welcomed me into their circle, and Roger is always around to brighten my day in some small way, leaving fancy little boxes of cookies on my pillow, or calling me out of the blue to see how my day is going. He works on Wall Street but likes to bake on the side too. He has a little online business that specializes in gourmet gift baskets, and he does pretty well with it. On the weekends, it’s become somewhat of a ritual for him and I to bake cookies and sweets all day. It became my therapy I guess, because getting the ingredients meant going on trips to the food store with him, and little by little that branched out into trips elsewhere in the city, until I wasn’t afraid to go outside anymore. Roger is just like Adam, he doesn’t question or judge me, he likes me for who I am. I guess it’s easier for him to do that, since he’s judged his whole life because of his sexual attraction to men.
People suck.
Last week I contacted UCLA and had them transfer my credits to me. They gave me a hard time, said I had been classified as a drop out, but then I talked to Fitzburg who didn’t hesitate to help. She always liked me, and because of her, I’ll be starting classes next month at NYU. It’ll be a little hard to catch up, but I’m going to take some courses over the summer too, which will speed the process along, and I’ll be able to start fresh in the fall.
For now, I’ve made it my mission to help my brother get his fashion business off the ground. He made a name for himself during fashion week this year, and was hired shortly after by a very popular abstract photographer named Claudio Gratzeu. He does all the hair, makeup, and wardrobe for his photo shoots. So far, he’s worked with about two dozen A list celebrities, not that he cares…we grew up around half of them. It’s been very lucrative for him but the schedule is grueling, sometimes he works seven days straight, and he goes on location a lot too. There are some weeks I barely see him, but I know he loves what he does and wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Being here with my brother has been life changing to say the least, and I know I should have moved with him the first time he asked me. I was so hell bent on doing everything myself, that I couldn’t see his reason. I can’t believe I would have rather spent my summers being degraded by Max and Jules when I had two amazing people that loved me out here. I may be book smart, but I swear, I have no common sense.
I can’t see a good thing, even when it slaps me in the face.
I regret so much, but it’s done now, and I can never get him back. I wouldn’t want to try, because I know in the end, I’d just drag him down, and he’s better than that. I think about him sometimes, late at night in bed. I remember the way he kissed me, the way his eyes would close, the would pour everything he had into it. I remember the way he would smile, the way he held my hand.
The way he told me that he was in love with me.
It was three days. Three days that never should have happened, but they did. I think he was confused. We both were. Still, I’m thankful for the experience of him. I felt special for the first time in my life, and I guess…I’ll look back on it fondly as ‘that Christmas I fell for a jock’. I spied on Roger’s ESPN time enough to find out he signed with Miami. I hope he’s happy, hope he got away from his father.
I hope he found someone that likes him for the Justin inside, and not the ball player.
“I’m so excited for unChristmas.” Adam creeps toward our Christmas tree, carefully picks up one of the immaculately wrapped packages that Roger put there for him to open tomorrow night, and shakes it a little bit. “You think it’s new makeup brushes, El? Burberry gloves? You know how much I love Burberry.”
“You know he doesn’t want you doing that. Remember how angry he was yesterday?”
“He just hates it when I push his buttons,” Adam laughs. “I made it up to him later, don’t worry.”
“Please spare me,” I groan. “I love you both but I don’t need to know what goes on after hours.”
He smiles, and I see his cheeks turn a little pink as he continues to pick at the package. “By the way…we got stuck with an extra ticket for the Knicks game tomorrow. Roger wanted to know if you wanted to come with us.”
“It’s unChristmas, I thought you were skipping the game.”
I’ll be honest, when Adam initially came up with the idea I didn’t want anything to do with it. The devil had come to Christmas, just like he told me, and I didn’t want to think back on it. The thing is, Adam loves Christmas. When our mom was alive, you couldn’t have asked for a better time of year. We were close with dad then, we were a family, and Christmas was the ultimate day for us. After she was gone, Adam always tried to get me in the spirit. He would spend hours helping Jeanine decorate the house in hopes that everything would be the same.
It was never the same, and by the third Plymouth/Granby Christmas, the enthusiasm he’d once had for the holiday was non existent. When he went off to college and met Roger, I guess it came rushing back to him. Apparently, they’ve been having epic Christmases every year they’ve spent together, and they’ve made the best of things for ‘unChristmas’ even though it’s way late. The penthouse they share has been decked out with lights and cheesy festive decorations, complete with a real tree that Roger got imported from someplace in Canada. Hell, there’s even lemon liqueur cookies laid out for Santa. Roger and I baked them, and it got me to laugh, so I guess that’s good.
I’m going to eat them later. All of them.
“They’re court side seats. You know how Roger is with his sports infatuation. It’s the straightest part of him. We’ll celebrate unChristmas after the game is over.” Adam rolls his eyes, and carefully peels a piece of tape from the present and manages to lift a part of the shiny gold wrapping up without ripping it. “Shit, white box. That bastard. He knew I’d peek.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for basketball,” I drone, and focus back on the pile of paperwork I’ve been working on for my brother. “You should give the ticket to someone who cares, and have a good time. I can stay here and start making platters for the party or something.”
“Come on, I can’t sit through a basketball game with Roger. I whine too much and he gets annoyed. They company only gives him court side tickets once a month, so I have to behave. Please, El?”
He’s giving me those stupid puppy dog eyes. God, I hate it, but I can’t say no. “This isn’t the best unChristmas present.”
“I’ll make it up to you later,” he smirks. “I swear.”
r32;“Yeah, right.”
He won’t look at me, and my stomach twinges just slightly. I’m not really sure why, either. I just know how my brother gets when he has an idea. “Adam what are you up to?”
“Nothing,” he can’t suppress the nervousness in his laugh. “Honey, you’re such a worry wart.” He carefully tapes the wrapping paper back into place and tucks the package back under the tree. “I just want you there so we can make fun of the masculinity that defines sports together. Is that so bad?”
“I…I guess not.”
“So you’ll go?”
“Well…”
“Good, I’ll tell Roger.” He kisses my cheek again. “Carry on. I’m going to redesign my color palette for next weeks wardrobe. It’s all wrong. I swear, sometimes I’m such a dope.”
He walks away.
I’m nauseated, and frightened. Waves of panic rush through me, and I can’t figure out why. But I already said yes.
I’m stuck now.
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