Family Ties
No matter how much I might want to, I can’t hide in the guest room all day the next day. Christmas Eve is too much of an event in the Hanson household for anyone to get away with not joining in the festivities. Even if Mom hadn’t rapped cheerfully on the door to let us know that breakfast was ready, the smell of food would have woken at least me.
Breakfast is too boring and ordinary of a word to describe the first meal of Christmas Eve in the Hanson house, though. The meal gets a little forgotten in the rush to finish all the preparations for dinner, so while Mom is waiting for this or that to cook, Dad takes over and fixes the one thing he can reliably make—French toast. It’s the one time a year that he fixes it, and it’s well worth the wait. Between that, the ever present hot cocoa, and—if you’re lucky—a few warm cookies fresh out of the oven, Christmas Eve breakfast is the best meal of the year in my family, if you ask me. Even at twenty seven years old, I can think of few things that beat it.
Then Carrick walks in the door, hair sticking up at weird angles and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and I think of one thing that just might rival this meal for my favorite thing ever.
“Oh, Carrick,” Dad says, spinning around to see who has arrived, spatula still in his hand. “I completely forgot; I don’t suppose you can have any of my famous French toast.”
Carrick looks confused for a moment, then smiles easily. “Oh, no, Mr. Ha—Walker. I’m just vegetarian, not vegan. The eggs are no problem.”
Dad waves his spatula a bit dismissively, but he’s still smiling as well. “I can never keep up with all these diets. No offense, of course. Kate’s always trying all sorts of fad diets, isn’t she, Zac? I think she’s gone gluten free now. And of course, Natalie has to be careful about sugar now…”
He trails off then, seeming to realize the awkwardness in talking about my ex-wife and Taylor’s estranged one. Carrick is still smiling, though, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. I suppose it will always be like this; there will always be big, awkward elephants in the room for us to keep stepping around. Maybe someday the entire family will learn how to deal with all of these changes, but it hasn’t happened yet.
Moments later, the awkwardness is subdued by the first heaping plate of French toast, which Carrick and I divide up between us. We sit the small kitchen table, the spot that Mom cheerfully calls her “breakfast nook,” and eat said breakfast like we’re a real family. I suppose we are. It’s strange, but it feels right.
By the time we finish our breakfast and we’re rinsing off the dishes, the oven timer begins to beep loudly. Mom rushes into the room from god knows where, barely skidding to a stop before running over Carrick on her way to save whatever it is she’s already cooking from being burnt to a crisp.
“Oh, I should have known you boys were lured by the siren call of Walk’s French toast,” she teases. “But that’s enough; you’re officially banned from the kitchen until I’m done.”
“Aww, Mom,” I fake whine, causing her to laugh.
“Oh, go on,” she says, slapping me lightly with a dish towel. “If I give you boys a job to do today, will it get you out of my hair and keep you out of it?”
Rather than point out the fact that us boys are actually full grown men, one of us in his mid-thirties, I just chuckle. “Sure, Mom. What do you need? Last minute present run? Someone to drink all the eggnog?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just keep an eye on the door, alright? Greet the guests. Pretend to be a normal human being with good manners.”
“Gee, that’ll be tough… I don’t know if I can do it…”
Before she can smack me with the towel again, I’m out of the room, dragging Carrick behind me.
“I love your parents,” Carrick remarks as I drag him down the stairs and back into the guest room.
I shake my head and push him into the room, closing the door behind us. “My parents are nuts. At least they seem to like you, though.”
“Were you worried that they wouldn’t?” He asks, not really seeming all that concerned, as he digs through his suitcase for something suitable to wear for Christmas Eve.
“I guess I was,” I reply, pulling out my own suitcase. “But not really. I mean, they always have liked you. But liking you as one of my weird musician friends and liking you as my boyfriend… those are two very different things. And when Dad started talking about Kate and Natalie…”
Carrick shrugs. “He was just making small talk. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
“He probably didn’t, but it’s just all so weird… weirder than they know, really. I guess I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” he replies. A pair of boxers, dark jeans and a sweater I didn’t even know he owned folder over his arm, he leans in and gives me a quick kiss. “But I’m going to go shower and make myself presentable before we start doing our assigned duty. You should do the same. I would ask you to join me, but… well, I think we’ve defiled your parents’ home enough.”
The fact that Carrick can even joke about that shows just how far we’ve come in a month. It’s hard to believe that we’re okay now… but I think we are. I don’t really want to think about that very much, for fear of jinxing it somehow. Instead, I just pull out the notebook I packed and work on some lyrics while I wait for Carrick to finish his shower.
Once we’re both as clean and presentable as we’re going to get, we take up our posts by the door. The foyer is big enough to be considered a den by itself, although it lacks a television or any other form of entertainment. That’s alright, though; we’ve got each other for company, as well as the constant parade of relatives.
Isaac and Nikki, along with their two kids, are some of the first to arrive, their arms loaded down with presents. Ike dumps his armful of packages quickly and pulls me into his arms like he didn’t see me just the day before.
“Ike,” I gasp out, surprised and a little bit strangled by his hug. “Ike, seriously dude.”
He pulls back and chuckles softly. “Sorry, it’s just… well, sorry. Is Mom busy?”
“Of course she’s busy,” I reply, smiling at the look on Ike’s face. If I’m not mistaken… it’s pride. “But go on. We’ll carry the presents up for you.”
Once they have my permission, as it were, Ike and the boys are off like a shot, all chattering about gingerbread and chocolate chip cookies. Nikki lingers a bit longer, looking like she wants to say something to me or Carrick or both, but like she isn’t quite sure if she should.
“You don’t have to carry all of those,” she finally says, and the look on her face tells me that wasn’t the statement she was mulling over. Like everyone else, I guess, she doesn’t know how to deal with this relationship, even if she doesn’t necessarily disapprove of it.
“It’s no problem,” I reply, giving her a smile that I hope implies that I understand everything she’s trying to say.
Carrick snatches up the pile of boxes next to me. “Here, I’ll get these. You stay here and guard the door or whatever.”
That seems like a reasonable idea, even though I really want to protest. But I don’t. I let Nikki and Carrick walk off, talking softly and no doubt about me. What else could they have to talk about after all? I want to be a little upset by that, but why should I be? It’s not like I have any reason to be jealous. In fact, it’s a good thing that they seem to be bonding already. At least most of my extended family likes and accepts Carrick…
The doorbell rings again and jars me out of my thoughts. Of course it’s not going to stop ringing all day. Without looking in the peephole, I fling the door open, and find myself nearly knocked over by a miniature parade of Taylor’s children. I brace myself for the sight of him trailing behind them, but instead, I’m greeted by the much shorter, but still imposing, figure of his wife. Or whatever she is.
“Natalie.”
“Zachary,” she shoots back. “Don’t get your panties in a wad; I’m just dropping off the kids.”
“What are… I mean, why would you even…”
“What, show my face here?” She asks, then laughs. The kids are all in the house, not near enough to overhear anything they shouldn’t hear from this conversation, and I know that means Nat won’t feel any need to hold back. “Believe it or not, I’m still welcome here. Only the three of us know everything that happened, and if you have any sense, you’ll keep it that way.”
I laugh a little in spite of myself. “Now you’re threatening me to keep me quiet, rather than threatening to tell my secrets. That’s an interesting change.”
“We all have secrets, Zachary. Don’t think you’re special.”
I don’t have any sort of witty reply for that, but I’m saved from having to reply when I hear footsteps on the stairs. It’s Carrick and Nikki, back to get the rest of the gifts. Nikki barely even glances Natalie’s way, a tight smile on her lips to match the curious smirk on Natalie’s.
And Carrick… well, he’s by my side in an instant, a hand placed low on my back to keep me standing. He doesn’t even bother to fake a smile as he stares Natalie down.
“Carrick,” she says. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Neither did I,” he replies, much to her confusion. “Didn’t really expect to see you here, though.”
“As I just told your little boyfriend, I’m only dropping off the kids. And since that’s done, I’ll be on my way.” As a bit of an afterthought, her tone making it obvious that it’s only a formality that she doesn’t even mean, she adds, “Tell everyone I said hello.”
She turns and walks away then, and I quickly shut the door behind her. The three of us glance at each other, all silent. What can we really say after that? Nikki and Natalie have never been friends; that’s no secret. But of course, she doesn’t know all the other secrets that colored that conversation. Secrets that it seems Natalie is now intent on keeping, which is just fine by me.
Minutes later, all the presents are deposited under the tree and we’ve been given a brief reprieve from door duty. I collapse into a large chair and Carrick falls into it next to me; it’s thankfully large enough that he’s not actually sitting in my lap. Not that I would mind that, but I’m not sure my family is really ready for that, even if they are being pretty awesome about our relationship.
“So…” I say softly. “That was really weird.”
“What did she even say to you?” Carrick asks.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I reply. “But apparently… we’re in the clear. I guess she and Taylor have so much dirt on each other that they’re just living in fear of the floodgates being opened and all their—and my—dirty laundry being aired. It’s a shitty way to live, but it works out well for me, I guess.”
Carrick nods. “I guess it does. It could have worked out a lot worse, huh?”
“Yeah,” I reply, leaning my head against his shoulder and sighing happily.
It definitely could have worked out a lot worse.