Read Remembering Christmas Online
Authors: Drew Ferguson
Remembering Christmas (28 page)
The attempt to do an inverted backward dive or whatever Rob called it had failed. Teddy had no idea if Rob's foot had slipped or if he couldn't get enough bounce from the board or if the darkness caused him to miscalculate the distance between the board and a safe landing; he had been staring at Rob's backside.
When Rob emerged from the water, however, Teddy was waiting for him, and from the way that Rob reached out to grab onto Teddy's arm, he knew that Rob had expected him to be there. That simple movement born from instinct and not thought made the fire in Teddy's belly expand to consume his whole body, extend beyond his fingertips and toes, filling him, the pool, and his entire world with beauty, joy, hope, every good thing possible even as the blood started to gush down Rob's chin.
Knowing that the warmth was not being created by the pool water, Rob touched his chin and looked at his red fingers. “Guess I'm no Greg Louganis.”
Teddy held Rob with a tighter grip and smiled. “Who needs an Olympic gold medal anyway?”
Unexpectedly, Rob descended under the water to rinse away the blood, but didn't let go of Teddy; in fact, his hand pressed into Teddy's shoulder harder, making the connection between them even stronger. Slowly treading water, Teddy's toes brushed against Rob's knee, gliding all the way down to his calf. He was grateful that Rob was under the water so he didn't hear him sigh. He knew it was a weird sound no matter how good it felt.
For a brief moment after Rob was back above the water he looked perfect, he reached out with his other hand to grab Teddy's other shoulder, and they held on to one another, floating in the pool, swathed by the moon glow and the light from the few stars that were strong enough to break through the harsh blackness of the New Jersey sky, and they were just two boys, naked literally and figuratively, in a moment of innocence. A moment that was broken by the insistent presence of reality.
“You're bleeding again,” Teddy declared, trying not to sound scared, more like an adult, in charge. “Tilt your head back.”
Rob did as he was told and gazed up, through the top part of the glass doors and into the night sky. He kept staring at the immensity that hung above him as he felt himself floating forward, his legs dangling in the water. He felt Teddy's hands on his body; one was pressing into the center of his back while the other was holding his own hand against his chin to stop the flow of blood. He didn't resist; he allowed Teddy to take charge. He couldn't define how he felt, except that it was nice to have his friend, his friend who always made him laugh, who always made him feel good about himself, take care of him in a way that only another adult had ever done. He felt protected.
When they got to the ladder, Rob only climbed out of the water because he knew that Teddy was right behind him. He kept his head tilted back, his hand still pressed against his chin, and shuddered a bit when the cool air wrapped itself around his wet, naked body; he was cold, but he felt alive.
A step below him Teddy felt the same way except he never felt the cold. When the water dripped off of Rob's arched body and landed on Teddy, he felt like he was being engulfed by flames; he felt as if the water was being sprinkled down from heaven to anoint and scald his skin, to burrow underneath the surface to make him feel what he had never known existed. His body was practically aglow with the burn, and he felt himself grow, but this time he wasn't ashamed. How did that old song go that his mother loved? “It can't be wrong when it feels so right, 'cause you, you light up . . .” Amazing, even thinking about his mother couldn't make him feel bad; he didn't think anything could make him feel bad ever again.
The feeling of invulnerability only deepened as the night lingered on. Sitting next to Rob on the cold cement next to the glass doors, Teddy held a towel against Rob's chin. The bleeding had slowed down considerably, but neither boy wanted the connection to end, and so they sat there, silently, towels wrapped around their shoulders, listening to the sounds of the night, maybe thinking about what they would get for Christmas this year, or maybe just thinking about each other. In a move that stunned them both, Rob turned and slowly positioned himself so his head was resting in Teddy's lap. He kept the towel pressed against his chin even though they both were pretty sure the bleeding had stopped, and he looked up and saw that Teddy was looking down, and suddenly the only thing they could see was each other's eyes and that was enough, but quickly it became too much and neither boy knew what to do next. So they stood still.
Teddy's body finally shivered, not because of the temperature, but because of the flurry of his own unanticipated emotions: His mind was racing; just when he thought he understood everything about himself, Rob, the world around him, everything changed. Tentatively he touched Rob's forehead and caressed the side of his head, his fingers shaking slightly as they felt his damp hair. Rob closed his eyes; gone was the beautiful blue and in its place long, black lashes, intertwining, like an intricate lock, and Teddy felt an irrational fear that he would never see those eyes again, that this moment, this series of unexplainable, yet inevitable moments would be gone forever. When he spoke he heard the fear in his voice, “Look at me.”
Rob unlocked his lashes and opened his eyes as if the sound of Teddy's voice was the key that opened them. They were still beautiful and blue, and Teddy was thankful that it was dark and he was wet so Rob wouldn't know that tears were starting to fill up his eyes. He blinked and the tears didn't betray him; they didn't fall down his face, but he felt as if they were. He tried not to think about them and concentrated on his friend, his best, sweetest friend whose head was resting in his lap, who was looking up at him, smiling, not confused at all, but content. Teddy tried to mimic that expression and clouded by the darkness he thought he was successful, even though he was just as bewildered as he had always been. Nothing made sense and yet everything did, as long as Rob would stay where he was right now, nestled in his lap, looking up at him like a baby, like a boy, like someone who would one day grow up to be a man. Like the man Theo was staring at right now.
“Your scar never fully disappeared,” Theo said.
Tracing his chin with his thumb, Rob smiled. Theo couldn't tell what the smile meant though. Had Rob retreated back to the same memory; did he remain silent as he tried to remember how the scar got there in the first place? “Guess I'm like Michelle Kwan and was never meant to win Olympic gold either,” Rob said.
He did remember! Theo hadn't made it up; there was a pool and a moon and spilt blood and Rob willingly lying in his lap, it all happened. Theo felt like the Grinch when his heart grows three times too big, and he wished there was a Who-ville nearby so he could join in a festive celebration because he was so excited. It was silly, he knew it, it was silly to feel so ecstatic simply because someone else shared a fond memory, and yet he was thrilled to know that Rob meant what he said, he wasn't ashamed of what they had had, what they had once shared. If that were true maybe, just maybe . . . Theo felt his chest tighten again and his neck grow warm; he was filled with a profound sense of wisdom, and he realized if this conversation was going to continue he would need more courage. “Refill?”
Â
Waiting for another round of drinks at the bar, Theo looked over at Rob. How weird was it that he felt like this was where he belonged, here with Rob, a man he hadn't seen in over a decade, and he felt that Neil was the one who seemed like a distant memory. Was the time he had spent with Neil all a waste? Was it all a colossal mistake? He knew the relationship wasn't perfect; he knew he should have confronted Neil more about certain things, but he hadn't wanted to rock the boat. He stayed silent, and so he got tossed overboard. He had been crushed, devastated, but more so because the relationship had ended and not that Neil was out of his life. Wow, that was a major confession. Clearly, Scotch is good for the soul.
So are ex-boyfriends, or old friends, or whatever the hell he should call Rob. Love of his life? That would probably fit. Oh God, what was he doing? Theo glanced at the clock on the wall, just five o'clock, he still had another hour with Rob, another full hour, who knows what could happen in that time.
He looked over at him and was surprised to find that
he
wasn't checking his watch or his BlackBerry; he wasn't making a phone call or doing something to fill up the silence or worse, something to end the silence and plan his escape. He was waiting, just waiting for Theo to return. Maybe he was hoping something magical would happen too?
he
wasn't checking his watch or his BlackBerry; he wasn't making a phone call or doing something to fill up the silence or worse, something to end the silence and plan his escape. He was waiting, just waiting for Theo to return. Maybe he was hoping something magical would happen too?
Theo felt his head swirl and knew that he was beginning to feel the real effects of the Scotch, and a voice in the back of his head reminded him of why he only drank beer when he went out. But it was Christmas Eve and Rob was here; it was a special night so to hell with the voice in his head. The voice continued to sermonize, but he ignored it; instead he stared at Rob.
He was leaning back in his chair, making the two front legs become airborne, his fingers lightly touching the edge of the table, more for balance than security, just like he used to do in Mr. Hesterfer's Spanish II class sophomore year. Theo had sat right behind Rob, and when he leaned back like he was doing now, Theo always felt it hard to concentrate on Mr. Hesterfer's lecture; he was more interested in how Rob's hair fell, straight down and then with a little curve to the right.
Once when Teddy was imagining what it would be like if Rob was a giant and he could slide down his soft, brown hair, Mr. Hesterfer surprised him by asking him a question. The teacher had a knack of knowing which student was daydreaming, not paying attention while he was talking, and always asked that wayward pupil a question. On this occasion they were conjugating action verbs in the conditional verb tense, and Mr. Hesterfer wanted to know how you would ask someone “Would you like to go ice skating with me if the lake turns to ice?” Since Theo hadn't been paying attention but was, in fact, wondering how wonderful it would be to glide down Rob's hair as if it were a huge, soft, brown-haired sliding pond, he had no idea, so he did what he always did when he was unsure of an answer: He made a joke. And since he was in Spanish class he made what would become his standard Spanish joke.
“Comé me pantalones, señor.”
It roughly translated to “Eat my shorts, man” which was Bart Simpson's extremely popular catchphrase at the time. In this instance, it really didn't make sense as a logical reply, but Theo was desperate to say something, and so he said the first thing that popped into his head. Rob found it so hilarious in its absurdity that after a moment of shocked silence, he laughed so hard and so heartily that soon the entire class, including a reluctant Mr. Hesterfer, was laughing along with him. For the rest of the year whenever Teddy didn't know an answer to one of Mr. Hesterfer's questions, he would reply with the Spanish version of Bart's bon mot, rousing laughter would ensue, and Teddy was guaranteed an A for classroom participation.
As Theo handed Rob his drink and sat down across from him, he wished he was back in Spanish class and could spend all day listening to his classmate's approving laughter as he gazed into Rob's hair imagining what it would be like to live there, to hide from reality instead of have to face it head on. Then he realized adults could hide too. “Remember when I was the breakout star of Mr. Hesterfer's class?”
Rob laughed and almost choked on his Scotch, but managed to swallow without spitting any into Theo's face. “It's the main reason why you didn't get beaten up sophomore year.”
It was Theo's turn to almost choke. “What?!”
Nodding furiously, Rob replied, “Yeah, no one ever wanted to beat you up because you made everybody laugh. We had meetings about it.”
“Meetings?!” An image flashed into Theo's mind: Rob and his buddies sitting around a conference table underneath the bleachers at the football field discussing the pros and cons of beating him up. “You had meetings to decide whether or not you should beat me up?”
Head nodding was replaced by head shaking. “No, of course not.”
Well that's better! Theo heard his familiar nervous laughter and hoped Rob didn't think he was crazy for taking his comment literally. As it turned out he had nothing to worry about, he had interpreted the comment correctly.
“Not just you,” Rob corrected. “A bunch of guys.”
Theo knew that he had the beginnings of a Scotch buzz, but he also knew he was far from drunk and was capable of following a conversation even if it involved traipsing down the twisted, complicated path that led back to high school. But this he was having difficulty comprehending: clandestine meetings of the popular set to discuss organized attacks on those who populated the more undesirable factions of high school society. It was absurd, and yet Rob looked completely serious. “Are you serious?” Theo asked.
“First Wednesday of every month, give or take,” Rob explained. “Me and the guys would get together during free period in the library and figure out who should get beaten up or, you know, just shoved around a bit.”
It was like finding out that Santa Claus didn't exist, sad, disturbing, but not that much of a surprise. “I can't believe this was something that was debated.”
“Vigorously,” Rob declared. “Phil Kleiber usually got a lot of votes, mostly because of the book thing.”
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