It is a cool winter December afternoon. I’ve loved being able to wear sweaters and tights with long skirts and boots; to sit outdoors on a restaurant patio and enjoy a drink or a meal and not melt in the heat, but not actually need a coat. Winter in Orlando isn’t a wonderland by a long shot—Christmas lights wind around palm trees here, but it’s still a magical time of year, especially for JC and me. It’ll be our first Christmas together… back together that is, in almost twenty years. I’m giddy at the thought of waking up next to him on Christmas morning. I always wanted to, and never got the chance.

So many things I always wanted to do but never got the chance. I smile to myself sometimes, a look of pure stupid bliss on my face, I’m sure. We can do everything we ever wanted to do but never got the chance. Everything.

JC’s Benz slows to a stop in front of the Chasez house. As soon as he turns the key in the ignition, I unhook my seatbelt and pop the door latch. “I’m just going to check in at my folk’s place for a second. I’ll be back over in a minute.”

“Oh, I’ll go in with you.” JC unbuckles his seat belt and reaches for his door latch.

“Babe, it’s okay. I’ll be over to your parent’s place in a few minutes.”

“You don’t want me to go in with you?”

“It’s not that… it’s just that we’re attached at the hip. Every time my parents see me, I’m with you. I’d just like to see them and say hi without my boyfriend hanging out in the background.”

JC pauses before pretending to look offended. “You know they love me, right?”

“Like a son, sweetheart.” I give him a conspiratorial wink and climb out of JC’s car. “I’m sure your mom wants to hug you without your girlfriend hanging behind you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” JC grumbles. “I think they like you more than they like me.” He heads down the sidewalk to the front steps of his childhood home. The Chasez residence is a two story country charmer that has aged but served the family well through three growing— and now adult children. I have fond memories of hanging out at the light blue house, sitting on the porch with JC or playing the huge backyard with Heather and Tyler. We spent as much time at his house as he spent at mine, over the years.

I pass the house that has always been between us, the reason I could never say that my boyfriend lived next door. When we were growing up, an old lady lived there. She died when we were ten and it sat vacant for a few years before a retired couple bought it. I remember asking my parents why we didn’t buy it and tear it down so we could say we lived next door to the Chasez’s. They laughed.

Bounding up the steps to my parent’s house, I try the knob on the front door. As usual, it’s open. If my parents are home, the front door is open. If the door is open, anyone is welcome to come in. My mom locks the door before they turn in for the night. Old habit, one they’ll never break.

The house is warm with the glow of Christmas lights and the fragrance of evergreen and freshly baked cookies and breads. Mom’s annual tradition is to decide I’m too thin and send me home with batches of baked goods. I bring them to work and let the other lawyers feast.

Heheh. Not this year.

“Mom? Dad?”

“Angie?” Mom pokes her head around the corner from the kitchen. Her face is dusted with a light coating of flour, as is her hair and her apron, a red and white candy cane striped number. Her hands are covered in guck and she’s holding them away from her to make sure she doesn’t touch anything. Her smile brightens as I step into the house and close the door behind me.

“Hi, honey! I didn’t think we’d see you until tomorrow. I’m whipping up a few things for you to take home. Where’s JC?”

I unbutton the light jacket I’m wearing. Dad has to stay warm-- it’s better for his muscles, so they keep the temperature in the high 70’s. “I sent him home to say hi to his family without his girlfriend hanging around.”

“Oh.” Her face falls, which makes me chuckle. “Maybe I wanted to say hi to my son in law.”

“He’s not your son in law yet. You’ll see him tomorrow. Aren’t you happy to see me? Your daughter? Your only child?”

She rolls her eyes and turns to go back into the kitchen. I follow her, giggling. “Of course I’m happy to see you, honey. How are things going?” Her baking has taken over the kitchen. Ingredients are spread across the table and the counters are covered with dozens of cookies and loaves of banana bread, iced lemon loaf and chocolate brownies.

“Things are fine, mom. Really good. Who are all those desserts for, though? Not for us, are they?”

She turns and glances at the pile and shakes her head while going back to her KitchenAid Mixer. “Not all of them. I’m sending some things over to the dealership for the guys working tonight. They’ve decided to work till midnight. Let’s hope a lot of people want to give a car as a Christmas present. We’ll drop them off later on. Dad wants to go by and say hello.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice. How long has it been since he was over there?”

“It’s been awhile. Maybe since last year at this time. We’ll take the wheelchair. It’s just easier.”

“Let me know if you need help. I can have JC and Tyler come over.” Mom nods, watching the mixer do its thing, slowly trickling ingredients into the dough. “Where is Dad, by the way?”

“Napping. It’s late for a nap but if we’re going out, later…” She shrugs. “So, everything is okay then? With JC? You didn’t come by yourself for any other reason?”

“We didn’t break up. Stop stressing. Actually…” I grab a napkin and nab a couple of cookies, then resume my seat at the table. “It looks like we’re going to be working together soon. Did Karen tell you about the firm his uncle is opening down here?”

“She sure did. She’s real surprised Pete is coming back here, but I guess the new wife is a Florida native and wants to come home. New York can be so brutal. So much concrete and coldness.”

I munch on my cookie, conveniently filling my mouth so I don’t have to respond. My mother has never lived outside of Florida. She’s been to Ohio a few times to visit Dad’s family. She’s never been to New York.

“Anyway, Karen said that JC and Pete are opening the firm together and that JC is pretty much running the place. Which, I mean, I guess is okay. Makes sense, right?” She twists so she can see me. I nod, my mouth still full of cookie. “So, then you’ll be working for JC? Do you want to do that, honey?”

“No,” I answer, after I swallow. “I work for Pete. So does JC. All the associates and the other non attorney staff work for JC. The one who has to worry is Tyler.”

“That won’t be too bad at all then. And now you can leave Flanning and Roarke. You do want to leave them, right?”

“Yesterday.” I bite into a second cookie. “I can’t wait. I’ll probably give notice when I go back in January.”

“Good, honey. Start the new year off right.”

The mixer comes to a stop. She tilts the head of the machine upright so she can lift the bowl off of the stand, then sets it on the counter. Using a scooper, she begins plotting a large cookie sheet with dots of dough.

“These cookies are good, Mom. Like always.” I’m plotting another one, but I’m already not happy with my waistline lately. There’s some old saying that says when people get happy, they get fat. Well… let’s just say that JC and I are pretty damn happy. I’m going to have to pick a fight soon.

“You’ll get some, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. JC will whine until he gets his anyway. Hey mom… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about and since Dad is sleeping…”

“I knew there was something. Clear me a space over there, would you?” I make some room for her and her bowl and her enormous cookie sheet. She moves to the table and keeps plotting dots. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Mom. I’m just concerned about Dad. About his treatment and how he’s been getting along lately. I mean, I know Dr. Laurence said he’s fine for his stage but I’m starting to wonder what else we can do.”

“Like?”

“Like, what’s that electro-therapy treatment he was talking about awhile ago? What about new drug trials? Maybe he could try some different things. I just… I just don’t want us to limit ourselves. Or him.”

“I don’t think he’s limited at all,” she responds, dumping scoop after scoop of dough onto the cookie sheet. “He has a good quality of life right now. You’re not here with him, all day and every day. You don’t know what he can do, what he’s capable of doing—”

“I’m not trying to down your caretaking. This is absolutely not about the care he gets or the life he leads. I just think… maybe we should look at all of the options available.”

“And I’m asking you, what options are those? What magical avenues are you going to pull out of the sky to offer to your dad?” She slams a scoop of dough onto the cookie sheet, accentuating her words.

“What’s going to take away the tremors that rock his body every single minute unless he’s sleeping? Hmmm?” Slam. “And what about the cramps and the upset stomach he gets from the medications he’s on? What kind of options are out there to give him relief from that?”

Slam. She throws the scoop into the bowl, grabs the full cookie sheet and stomps across the room to the oven. She opens the door and roughly slides the sheet inside, then sets the timer.

“I’m not trying to insult you. Or Dad. I’m just asking questions. I’m sorry I brought it up.” I stand and brush crumbs from my skirt, grabbing my jacket from the back of a chair. “I should head over to the Chasez’s. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Angie.”

The gritty tone of my mother’s voice stops me in my tracks. I turn and face her. She’s short and graying. And rounding. Her eyelids droop with how weary she is as she steps forward and grips the back of a chair.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to attack you, but I’m frustrated. Your father… he wants to take the experimental drugs and undergo these risky procedures but at what cost? We just don’t know how they’ll affect him. I don’t want to take the chance that we’ll lose him earlier than we’re already going to. I…”

Her bottom lip trembles. She sucks it in and inhales a few deep breaths to steady herself.  “I love him. And I want him around, in any capacity he can be around. I don’t want to… experiment. I want tried and true. I want what works and right now, his medication level is working as best it can. His physical therapy is working. It’s working. Let’s not mess with it.”

I nod a few times, then open my coat and slide my arms into it, then open my arms to her. She steps close and lets me hug her, holding her still dough covered hands aloft. When I pull back, I’m lightly dusted in flour, but I don’t mind.

I flick some dough from her hairline and smile.   “I get it, mom. I’m gonna go. I love you. See you guys tomorrow.”

The reception at the Chasez house is warmer. I walk in the door and am immediately greeted with a chorus of “Angie!” JC’s mom, then dad, then sister take turns hugging me. Karen takes my coat and Tyler waves at me from the couch where he’s snuggled up to Jade. I give them the customary wave.

“Where’s JC?”

“He went downstairs to his old room. He said he had to find something he thinks he left down there.”

“Ohhh.” I grin. “I think I know what he’s looking for.” I head through the kitchen to the stairs to the daylight basement.

“Hey, no hanky-panky down there,” says Roy as I pass him, trying hard to maintain his ‘Dad’ voice. He’s holding a crystal bowl of full of mixed nuts. “You guys know the rules.”

“Oh yes, sir. And we’d never think to break them here in the house.”

“Wise asses,” he grumbles, then passes through to the living room to hand the bowl to Karen. I navigate the dimly lit, carpeted steps to the lower level. Down the hall and around the corner is JC’s old room.

Posters from the bands JC loved when he was in college still line the walls. Between them, the dull gray of sheetrock shows through, giving off that minimalist feeling. A full sized bed dressed in plain blue bedding and light blue pillow cases and a small bureau are the only furniture in the room. The carpet is thin and worn, the fibers crushed under years of feet in shoes, boots, sandals.

JC is on his knees, half in, half hanging out of the closet. A few old jackets hang on the rod above him but for the most part, it’s stacked with boxes of JC’s things.

“Finding anything useful?” I slide onto the edge of the bed, cringing at how soft it is. I can’t believe he slept on it for so long.

“Bunch of junk. I don’t know why I saved all this stuff. Or why my mom saved this stuff. I’m pretty sure I meant to throw most of this away.”

“You’re not looking for that jersey, are you? The one I gave you that Christmas when you gave me this locket?” I finger the thin metal hanging around my neck.

He turns to glance at me and smiles. “I just want to see if it’s in here. And if it still fits.”

“I doubt it fits, baby. You’re bigger than you used to be.”

“It was kind of big on me, though.” He grunts in frustration and moves to another box. “I’m gonna throw this shit out. There’s no reason to keep stuff like this—” He pulls out a tattered plastic three ring binder. “It’s got assignments in it from my junior year in high school. Some stuff in here from Rollins. That was a joke of a year. All this shit from law school… what the…”

“I can’t believe you’re so emotional over your mom keeping your stuff. Just put it back in the boxes. I’m sure she kept it for a reason. Did you check any of the drawers?”

“No, but take a quick look if you want. They’re probably empty.” I hop up and walk over to the five drawer bureau. The top drawer is empty, but the second drawer has a few folded items left in it.

“Here’s a couple of things.” I pull out some shirts, ones I recognize, and toss them onto the bed. In the next drawer, I hit pay dirt. “Babe. BABY! I found it!”

“You did?” JC hops up from the floor where he’s still elbow deep in his college coursework. I hand him the neatly folded Washington Redskins jersey. He unfolds it, just as slowly and reverently as he did when I gave it to him, then shakes out the wrinkles and holds it up to his chest. “What do you think? Can I still get into it?”

“I don’t know. It’s awfully small. Try it.”

“Well, I don’t want to rip it,” he says, but he’s already flipped it over his head. It drops around his shoulders and he pulls his arms through. It fits differently than it used to, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. His chest and shoulders are broader, his arms thicker. He fills it out more.

“Wow. You actually look really good in this. I mean, not really good but it doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, almost complimenting me.” He turns to check himself out in the mirror that hangs behind the bedroom door. “Man I can’t believe she kept this thing.”

“She knew it was a gift. She wouldn’t have thrown away anything I gave you. All of these shirts in here…” I sift through the pile and note that they all look familiar because I either picked them out for him, or I bought them. “She saved all of these.”

“I told you, she loves you.”

I grin as I place the shirts back in the drawer, just as neatly as I found them. “Okay, take that off, so I can fold it and put it back in here with the other stuff.”

JC looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “No, I’m wearing it.”

“You’re wearing it. Over a cashmere sweater. To dinner. On Christmas Eve.”

“Why not? You’re wearing that.” He points to my locket.

“Joshua…”

“Evangeline…” He wiggles his brows at me, then sits down on the bed. Then lays down, taking up most of the space the full sized mattress provides. “You know, we can make out in my room, now.”

“No, we can’t. Your dad told me five minutes ago that there wasn’t to be any hanky-panky down here.”

He scowls. “Aw, man.”

 I push the drawer closed, since it seems like JC isn’t going to take off the jersey. “Cock blocker.”

JC groans and sits up. “I’d really rather not think about the words cock and my dad in the same sentence.” He pats the spot next to him on the bed. “At least come sit here and let me kiss you. I want to feel like I’m breaking the rules.”

I giggle but head around the end of the bed and plop down next to him. He tosses an arm over my shoulder and leans back, dragging me with him so we’re lying next to each other. “I should have remembered that trick.”

“Works every time,” he says, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his head. “Come over here and don’t get any makeup on my awesome jersey.” I wiggle over until I’m up against him and lay my head on his chest. An arm drops down and around me. His fingers curl around my waist.

“I always wanted to do this. Just lay here with you and talk and stuff and not worry about getting caught.”

“Well, we still might get caught. We just won’t get in as much trouble.”

“True. So what happened, over at your parent’s place?”

“Nothing. Mom’s baking up a storm. I’m afraid some of that might make it to our house.” JC rubs his belly and moans appreciatively. “Dad was napping. He’s going to the dealership later. His annual visit.”

“Did you talk to her about… you know, what we talked about?”

I nod. “Mmmm. Didn’t go over well. Like I thought.”

“Really? Why’s she against him seeking other treatment?”

“She’s scared. It’s the unknown. She doesn’t want to take the risk. Doesn’t see the value in it.”

“Do you think he wants to?”

“Yeah. I think Dad would be all for it. At least, she says he is. She’s the holdout.”

“So why does he need her permission to change his treatment?”

“Because he loves her. And she loves him—”

“So she should want him to have what he wants.”

“And if something goes wrong, she’s the one that has to take care of him for the rest of his life. Her opinion matters. If she doesn’t want him to experiment…” I shrug a shoulder. “He won’t.”

“Do you want me to say something to him about it?”

“No, I think you’d better not go down that route with them. You just got back into my parent’s good graces. Let’s not mess with it.”

“But honey, I thought—”

“I thought that too. I thought I wanted something different for him. But it’s not about me. It’s not up to me. And if we get married, he can roll me down the aisle in his wheelchair. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s there.”

JC is silent for a few beats, then taps my hip with his fingertips. “Excuse me, Evangeline? What’s this if we get married, thing?”

I smile, then laugh, arching my neck so I can press my lips into his cheek. “It’s just a saying, JC. I know where we’re heading.”

“Okay. But given your dad’s condition, do we have some kind of timeline? I mean, whatever you want­--”

The thumping of feet on the steps interrupts our conversation. Tyler bounds into the room, stops, and points at the point of us. “I’m telling! Dad! They’re messin’ around down here!”

“What do you want?” JC hasn’t moved an inch. Neither have I. There are benefits to being adults.

“Dinner. Mom won’t serve unless you come up. Get your asses upstairs. I’m hungry.” We both sit up at the mention of food. I roll off of one side of the bed; JC rolls off of the other. “What the fuck are you wearing? Is that from high school?”

“Yeah,” He smooths down the fabric. “My first girlfriend gave me this for Christmas one year.”

“So you’re torturing the rest of us with it, this year?”

“Tell him, Tyler. Tell him he can’t wear that thing to dinner.”

“I can do whatever I want to do. And you two can’t stop me. So get used to seeing this, because I’m wearing it.”

JC leaves the room and hops up the steps. Tyler and I roll our eyes and follow.

###

“I do not believe you wore that thing all night.”

JC chuckles as he folds the thin polyester into thirds and then in halves and reverently lays in into a drawer. “I didn’t wear it all night,” he says, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it into the basket we use for dry clean only clothing. “I took it off, eventually.”

I follow suit, pulling off my sweater and unzipping my skirt while stepping out of my casual flats. “Oh my God. After drinks and hors d' oeuvres and dinner, where we all had to stare at you wearing it. And almost through dessert until your mom threatened to withhold pie if you didn’t take it off.”

JC was laughing, as was I. “I said I’d find it and wear it and I did.”

“You did. And I’d like to not see that again soon.”

“You are a hater.”

“I’m not. It’s just that my gifts now are so much classier.”

“You’re just trying to keep up with me. You don’t get much classier than a vintage pendant.”

I grabbed the smooth round silver pendant and rubbed it as I did a hundred times a day. “Was this the last gift you gave me?”

Clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs and socks, JC, tosses a pair of jeans into the laundry hamper and turns to me, an impish grin on his lips. “No, baby. I gave you a nice gift this morning.”

I roll my eyes and try not to laugh because it’ll only encourage him but he’s so damn proud of his joke, I can’t help it. “Answer me.”

JC lowers himself to the bed and lifts one foot and then the other, peeling off his socks, then throws them in the direction of the hamper. They don’t make it. “Uhhh…. Sort of.”

“Sort of what?”

“It’s the last gift I gave you. It wasn’t the last gift I bought you.”

“What…” In my bra and panties, I sit next to JC and tap him on the leg. “What are you talking about?”

“Well. I mean… I was working, and all. And uh…” Suddenly nervous, JC leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I had already put a down payment on it. And after we broke up, I was so sure you’d get over it and we’d be back together soon, so I kept making payments until it was paid for. Except I had it and I had no one to give it to.”

“What? You had no one to give what?”

JC sighs, then pushes himself up from the bed and shuffles to a wooden box that sits on his dresser and stores his watches, tie clips and cufflinks in crushed velvet. He pulls open the drawer underneath the main storage case and pries a small blue from the small compartment. From inside the bag, he pulls a velvet box. Without opening the box, he walks back over to the bed and offers it to me, in the palm of his hand.

Speechless, I stare up at him. This is not how I thought this would happen.

“I was eighteen, Angie. It’s not what you think it is.” He offers the box to me again. I whisper a slight sigh of relief and grab the box. Inside is a thin silver band adorned with tiny diamonds around the swirls of an infinity symbol. Half of the symbol is accented in shimmering green peridot—JC’s birthstone. The other in sparkling sapphire. Mine.

“It’s kind of cheesy now,” he says, plopping down next to me again. “I was pretty proud of myself, though. I was… well, I couldn’t propose. But I was going to let that kind of ride as a promise to propose. Until, you know, we had our own place and everything.”

I stare at the ring, never worn, never given, secreted away in a box inside a bag for so long. “You never… wanted to give it to anyone?”

“Yeah, babe… I knew tons of girls born in April that I was in love with and wanted to wear my cheap ass promise ring.”

I chuckle, spinning the thin band between two fingers. “It’s not cheesy. And it wasn’t cheap, not back then. You would have had to pay this off.” I glance up at him to find him staring at the ring in my hands, his expression wistful. “Why didn’t you sell it? Or… cancel the order? Or something?”

He shrugs, his bottom lip poking out in a pout. “I wanted to buy it for you. I didn’t want anyone else to have it. I wanted to give it to you.”

“But—“

“Even if we never got back together… which we didn’t… I wanted to buy it for you.”

I can’t think of a single word to say to measure up to that sweet declaration, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I hand him the ring and old out my right hand.

JC laughs. “You want to wear this thing? It might turn your finger green.”

“Then it’ll turn my finger green. It can be your promise to propose.”

“Angie, I…” He stops protesting, sighs and slips the band onto my finger. It’s snug, but it fits. “So. There.”

“There,” I repeat, suppressing a giggle. I wiggle the ring clad finger at him, my hand still aloft. “So romantic. Is that what you were going to say when you gave it to me?”

“No,” he protests, his cheeks turning pink. “I… was going to say stuff. Meaningful stuff. But then we had that fight at Homecoming and…”

“Forget the fight, JC.” I cup his face and turn him toward me. “Forget that fight. It’s Christmas Eve 1995. If we never broke up, what would you have said?”

“I would have said...” Suddenly, he pulls away from my grasp and stands. “I don’t want to do this right now, okay honey? You can wear the ring if you want. It’s yours. But I’m not… I don’t…”

He inhales deeply, then shakes his head, not unlike a dog shaking off water. “I’m gonna hit the showers and then the bed. I’m pretty tired and we have both families to see tomorrow. You in or out?”

“Are you… did you want to be alone?”

He looks back at me before heading into the bathroom. His normal, playful expression, his sparkling blue eyes and ready smile are all back. “Don’t ask dumb questions, Angie. Get in here.”

Happily, I strip myself of the last articles of clothing before following him into the bathroom.

I’m confused but I know it’s not the right time to push. JC always has a reason for doing something. Or not doing something. There’s a method to his madness. I just have to figure out what that is.