A Christmas Memory (3 page)

In a flash, I thought the sooner I started, the sooner I’d be done. “Sure, that works,” I assured him. I just wanted it to be over with.

The rest of lunch passed without me having to say another word. Those around me continued discussing mundane things, such as their classes or school politics, and then there was the never-ending chatter about the holidays. Luckily enough for me, Coach left me to my own thoughts, as everyone else did, just the way I liked it, so I was able to block out the incessant talking.

The second part of the day went quickly. Everyone, students and teachers alike, was antsy, ready for the day to end and winter break begin. Of course, I was anxious for an entirely different reason. Tomorrow loomed ever closer and the sooner Saturday came and went, the happier I would be.

That evening I went through my closet trying to figure out what to wear the next day. I hadn’t planned on the necessity of ‘persona’ clothes, other than for school. This proved to be a mistake on my part. Having gone through all my jeans, I figured out I only had one pair that I felt were suitable. Most all of my other jeans were much too tight for what I wanted. A baggy t-shirt, extra-large flannel shirt, topped-off with a shapeless sweatshirt and a pair of rough-out boots, completed my ensemble. I made a mental note to pick up some more ‘persona’ appropriate, casual clothing, just in case there was another occasion for a non-work, geek look.

The next morning I parked my stuttering jalopy in front of Coach Sutton’s house. I was a bit startled looking at the small bungalow
-
style home. It was nothing I would have envisioned belonging to Coach Sutton. The first word that came to my mind was ‘cute’. It was painted a pleasant shade of blue/gray, with white shutters and a wide porch across the width of the house. The yard and shrubs were all neatly trimmed and the flower boxes on the railing of the porch were full of pansies and trailing ivies. Literally, it looked like a cover from Better Homes and Gardens.

My poor car shuddered and knocked loudly, even after I turned the engine off. Coach Sutton appeared, walking up the driveway, carrying an extension ladder. Had I not been dreading this so much, I would have smiled. Perched on top of his head, at a jaunty angle, was a fluffy Santa’s hat. He stopped his whistling, smiled his big goofy smile and then waved to me. He was wearing a college sweatshirt, ski vest, sweat pants and tennis shoes. I noticed immediately that the sweatshirt was from my Alma Mater. The next thing I noticed was that he was going commando. There was no mistaking the swinging movement of what appeared to be a well-equipped package. I could feel the color drain from my face, and my mouth went totally dry.

There was no doubt he was one of the best-looking, sexiest men I’d ever known. It was too bad the man was so damn irritating. Letting out a deep sigh, I opened the squeaky car door, hoping this wasn’t going to take too long.

Coach had set the ladder down in the yard, and was walking over towards me as I got out. “Morning there, Champ.” Then his hand clamped down on my neck, giving me a bit of a shake. “Sounds like you need a tune up. Those spark plugs definitely sound as if they need replacing.”

Oh great, he’s a mechanic too,
I thought. “Yeah, I guess I’m overdue.” I hoped that would be the end of it.

“We can take care of that while on school break,” he said, throwing his arm across my shoulders, leading—or was that pulling?—me toward the house.

“Oh, that’s okay, Coach. I’ll just take it over to the shop near my apartment,” I told him, hopefully nipping that idea in the bud.

“Nonsense,” he replied, doing that sideways hug thing again. “Why pay those guys all that money when we can do it ourselves for a fraction of what they would charge? Besides, I know what first year teachers make, and there’s no sense in spending money when you don’t have to.”

I hated to admit it, but the man was right. I’d been trying to save as much as I could to pay for the next semester of school. “I wouldn’t want to put you out; besides, I don’t know the first thing about working on cars, so I’d be no help to you at all.”

“Not a problem. I can teach you. I have all the tools we’ll need in the garage, so the cost would be minimal, you’ll see,” he said, not letting me, or himself, off the hook.

Once inside Coach’s home, it was unquestionably masculine, but extremely well done, very neat and clean. In the kitchen, he had coffee and Danish sitting out on the stone topped breakfast counter. He noticed me looking around at the modern kitchen in admiration.

“I did it all myself, except for putting the counters in, that is,” he proudly stated, and justifiably so.

“Wow, it’s…it’s incredible,” I said sincerely.

“Yep, this old place was really a shack when I got it, but I saw all the potential it had.” Coach beamed. “It’s taken me eight long years, so far, but I keep working at it.”

“It shows,” I remarked around a bit of raspberry Danish, one of my favorites.

After a cup of coffee and a couple of Danish, Coach got us started. He wasn’t kidding when he said he went all out for Christmas, and he was meticulous about it as well. A quick break for some lunch and we were back at it, and didn’t stop until almost six that evening. It was a lot of work and I was drop dead tired, but I had to admit—even though I hated to do so—I’d had a lot of fun. I’d never decorated anything for Christmas, much less an entire house, and Coach did the whole exterior of his home.

Leaning against my car, we both stood back and admired our handy work. It was just getting dark when he nudged me. He looked at his watch. “Wait for it...wait for it…” Then all the lights came on at once, thanks to a timer. “There, that’s the payoff.”

Standing there in total awe, my mouth hanging open, I was speechless. It truly was beautiful, like a Christmas card you’d find at a Hallmark store. The only thing missing was the snow. White lights outlined the whole house, and soft fading twinkle lights covered all the shrubs. We had wrapped dozens of strings of LED lights around the one tree he had in his yard. It was jaw-droppingly beautiful. All the greenery that looped over the banisters of the porch with red ribbon also had lights that had the same soft fading twinkle to them, as well as the wreath on the door. The overall effect was quite astounding, almost magical.

Nudging me again with his elbow, he looked over at me, a big grin painting his face. “So…what’cha think?

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, and that was the truth.

“I tend to like to go for the clean and classy look personally,” he pointed out. “Don’t much care for all that glitz and glitter stuff.”

“It looks…wow… Coach, it really looks great.” I stood there for a few moments, admiring it all. “While we were doing it, I couldn’t see the end-result. I had no idea.”

Grabbing me in one of his sideways bear hugs that I was starting to get used to, he pulled me toward the house. “Come on, I’m starving; pizza and beer, my treat!”

“Oh…you don’t have to do that…really.” I tried to stop and back toward my car.

“Bullshit,” he barked. Not letting me stop, he pulled me right along beside him. “It’s the least I can do for all the help today. I owe ya one.”

I was about to object, but my stomach let out a loud rumble, making him laugh. He clapped me on the back again, propelling me further forward. With that, there was nothing left to say.

The restaurant wasn’t far from Coach’s house. It only took a few minutes in his truck, which I noticed was in the school colors, crimson and white. I’d mistakenly called it burgundy, and was quickly corrected.

I was a bit apprehensive going any place, grubby as we were, but the laid-back, casual atmosphere of the neighborhood pizza parlor helped put me at ease as soon as we sat down.

The young waitress greeted Coach by name and smiled at me, as Coach Sutton ordered a pitcher of beer.

“What do you like on your pizza?” he asked me as soon as the server had left.

“I like pretty much everything,” I shrugged, answering the equally grubby man.

“Even anchovies?” He had a look on his face as if he assumed I would say no.

“Sure, I even like anchovies,” I said, not batting an eye.

“Wow, I’ve never known anyone but me to like anchovies.” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“Back in school, everyone made such a big deal over them, so I thought I’d see what the big fuss was about. I tried them, right out of the can. I found that they weren’t that bad and that I actually like them with crackers.”

“Great!” Coach Sutton leaned back, his hands behind his head, biceps bulging as he smiled. “It’ll make ordering a snap then.”

The young waitress came back with two frost-covered mugs of beer. “Have you guys decided what you’d like?”

“Sure have. We’ll have my usual, only make it the extra-large.” Coach almost seemed to be bragging, for some reason.

Looking a little surprised, she glanced towards me, as if looking for approval. “Okay, you got it, Coach, one extra-large garbage pie, with dead fish coming up.”

I raised my eyebrows at Coach, questioning her reference to the pizza. Laughing, he explained that it was slang for everything on it.

“Where do you live, Champ?” the big man asked me before taking a long drink of the cold beer, foam outlining his mustache before he licked it off. It was kinda sexy.

It was time to stop this ‘Champ’ crap. “It’s Jon or my friends call me J.J.” I took a long draw of the cold, frothy liquid from my own icy mug, letting him digest this. “Jonathan Nathaniel Jones or J.J. for short,” I added for clarification.

“Okay, I’m Adam Stewart Sutton,” he answered, grinning.

I wish he had waited until I had swallowed before he said that, as I inhaled the beer, it came out of my nose, and I spewed what was left in my mouth on the table.

“Yeah, yeah…I know,” he commented as he mopped up the beer with the paper napkins from the table dispenser. “It spells ass. Trust me, I’ve heard all the jokes.” This was the first time I’d seen the big man’s feathers ruffled.

“Sorry, it caught me by surprise is all,” I said as I wiped my chin clean.

The rest of the meal went smoothly. I actually relaxed and enjoyed myself, letting my guard down some, but not totally. The pizza was excellent, and we polished off the whole pie, which surprised the server. Two pitchers of beer gone, the huge pizza devoured, and we both were pleasantly sated.

“So…how ’bout tomorrow?” Adam asked.

“Um…what about tomorrow?”

“How about that tune up tomorrow?” he asked, reminding me of his earlier offer.

“Really…I don’t want to put you out.” I really meant it this time. “Honestly, I don’t know the first thing about cars, and I’d be more of a hindrance than any help.”

“After today, I owe you, and besides…I’d like to do it.” The look in his eyes held something more there, something I couldn’t read.

“Well…if you’re sure,” I mumbled, not at all convinced of how I felt about this.

“I’m sure. Come on over in the morning, say sometime around nine?” he suggested. “The auto parts store doesn’t open until ten, but that will give us time to see what we need.”

After agreeing, we started to leave the restaurant, but this time I made sure to walk behind Adam Stewart Sutton. Not only did I want to get another view of his muscular back and meaty butt, I also planned on giving him a little pay back.

“Thanks for the pizza, Adam,” I said, walking through the door. I then pulled his trick of clapping him on the back, hard, making him stumble a bit.

He turned, looking a little irritated at me, and then it dawned on him what I’d done.

“Yeah, you’re a big guy, and when you do that, this is what it feels like,” I answered him before he even asked.

“Damn. I’m sorry, J.J.” he apologized, actually blushing. “I guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

“Oh, and that thing you do with the neck…?”

Adam groaned, hanging his head. “Let me guess…it’s painful?”

“Yep, and equally as irritating.”

“Man, I’m really sorry,” he apologized again. “I had a coach in college that used to do that to all of us, and…well…I guess I picked it up from him.”

“And I bet he did it to all the guys who were just as big as you,” I pointed out.

I could see the light bulb go off. “Yeah, you’re right. Guess I need to rein it in a bit.”

“Rein it in a lot,” I had to laugh at the look on his face. “Not everyone is built like a Mac truck, Adam.”

“Peterbilt.”

“Huh?” I had no idea what he meant.

Seeing my confusion, he informed me, “Peterbilt is a brand of truck, with staying power,” He tried to explain. “There’s an old joke about how a trucker never dies, he just gets a new ‘Peterbilt’.”

The only thing I could think of was the log swinging around in those sweatpants he was wearing, so I just nodded as if I understood.

Adam shook his head, as if knowing that I honestly didn’t get his joke. Back at his house, I got my keys out, declining to go inside, saying I was ready to call it a day. Adam grabbed me and pulled me into a big bear hug, again thanking me for all the help. It took me by surprise but I didn’t resist, not that I think I could have pushed him away even if I had I wanted to. Feeling his big arms wrap around me, pulling me tight, my breath whooshed out. Taking a shallow breath, I could smell the tanginess of his sweat, making me slightly dizzy. As quickly as the hug began, it was over.