Must Mean Something More (A Gay Christmas Novella)

CHAPTER 1

Isighed tiredly and propped my head with my muted phone. On the other end of the call, my mom rattled on about one of my aunt Kelly’s children doing something I’d already forgotten about. I was sitting in my parked car outside the office. At this point in the conversation, the gray building looked like a sanctuary.

It was a dull, chilly December day in Seattle, and the clouds hung low and thick over the city. The pavement still shone from the previous night’s rain. The weather forecast called for more precipitation later, and the sky threatened to deliver on that promise at any moment.

Eli, are you listening to me? she asked after what I just realized had been a long silence.

I swore then unmuted the phone. Yeah, I lied.

Anyway, she said. Before I got sidetracked, I wanted to ask if you still plan on coming down this weekend.

Shit. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure an adequate excuse to skip Christmas at my parents’ house… for the fifth year in a row.

Nothing came to mind. Because I didn’t have an excuse—other than the fact that going to see my family sounded about as fun as hemorrhoids. But that wasn’t something a son told his mother.

Back in college, I’d made it home every Christmas and every other holiday. But that had changed since I’d come out on Facebook senior year. Though several family members had come out of the woodwork to publicly state their love for me, more than a couple had taken it upon themselves to message me that they loved me but didn’t support my lifestyle.

To a guy whose lifestyle consisted more of killing a can of Pringles while studying for a midterm than anything salacious, it had both confused and annoyed me. And the rift that had started then had only grown in the years since.

Mom, you know I’m busy. I knew damn well that she would see through the feeble attempt at getting out of the holidays again.

Eli, you told me you’re taking next week off, she said flatly.

Why would I do something so stupid? I searched my memories for the conversation she was referring to. I had a vague recollection of telling her about it sometime over the summer. I should’ve known she would remember such a thing. Next year, I’m working through the holidays.

So, come down Saturday, and spend the week with us, she continued. You haven’t been around much since your grandpa passed away.

Here it comes. I cringed. The motherly guilt trip.

Rather than stay silent until it went into full swing, I attempted to throw out a better defense. I’ve told you that being around the family is hard. Aunt Tammy always gives me weird looks, and Uncle Sam goes on homophobic rants all the time. Last I remembered, the rants had gotten somewhat better, but I’d still heard a few drifting from rooms I wasn’t in. It didn’t help that Uncle Sam was very loud and extremely opinionated on everything.

You just have to ignore them, hon, she said. You know how they are. You can’t let it bother you.

Right, I said.

She never could understand what being the subject of familial scrutiny had done to me after I came out. And I was even being nice and leaving out the fact that she and my dad weren’t exactly innocent in the emotional toll exacted on me.

You can’t help how others make you feel, but you can control how you respond, Mom continued.

I rolled my eyes at that. It was one of her favorite catchphrases. She’d been particularly fond of it when I was a teenager in the full swing of my angst. Lately, she only brought it up when I started complaining about something. Its rough translation—Shut up and deal with it.

Listen, I didn’t want to do this, but Grandma isn’t getting any younger. You should at least come down to see her, Mom continued. It’d mean a lot to her.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Mom, she doesn’t even know me. Not really.

That’s not true, Mom said, or very fair, for that matter.

Does she even know I’m gay?

A long silence followed on the other end. Then, Is it really relevant?

It’s who I am.

What you do in the bedroom isn’t who you are, Mom said. Besides, what’s the point of bothering her with all that? It’s not like you’re dating anyone.

That’s not what— I sighed. It didn’t matter what point I was trying to make.

In the seven years since I’d come out, my mom hadn’t once asked about my relationships and had only addressed my gayness when I’d brought it up. Even then, her response usually made me feel bad for daring to mention it.

Best to cut the conversation short, then. I’ve got to go, Mom. I’m at work.

We’ll see you Saturday, Mom said firmly.

I ground my teeth. I’ll see what I can do. I’d always been terrible at flat-out rejecting my parents. I definitely needed to work on that. I vowed to add it to my list of New Year’s resolutions.

Great. Love you!

You too, I mumbled, hanging up.

As I climbed out of the car, the cool December air greeted me. My face felt tight from the chill.

I would come up with an excuse later to get out of going home, I decided as I walked up the steps to my office building. I could make up some emergency or lie about getting called in. Sure, I wasn’t sure exactly what I would say, but I had time to figure it out.

I stared at the spreadsheet in front of me. What was I doing again?

My body was at work, but my mind was far away, busy with a daydream about what I would say to my mom when I got off work. But before that, I’d been trying to find some information.

Around me, the office was empty, except for one or two people I didn’t know very well. On any other day of the year, my coworkers would be mingling and chatting instead of getting their work done. I never would’ve guessed it, but it seemed that the constant hum of other people’s energy actually helped my productivity.

That revelation did nothing to fix my current inability to focus.

I leaned back in my chair and ran my hands over my tired face. I wasn’t sure why I bothered coming into work that morning. Most of the office had used their vacation time for a few extra days off before the company went into hibernation until the new year. I should’ve done the same. But then what would I do alone at home in my apartment? Might as well come into work, get paid, and save the vacation hours for something more interesting.

I should’ve planned a trip somewhere. Then I would already have an excuse for Mom, and I wouldn’t be staring at pointless numbers as time slowly ticked by.

Someone knocked firmly on the nearby wall. I glanced back, my eyes trailing up a narrow waist to broad shoulders and chest muscles so defined it stretched the fabric over them then finally to Adam’s handsome face. My coworker’s cubicle neighbored mine, and typically, he was at my desk first thing in the morning, rattling on about his week. Since it was almost noon and it was my first time seeing him, I’d assumed he hadn’t come in. 

But there he was, distractingly handsome, cruelly straight, and holding out a box of doughnuts with a broad grin. I’d had a crush on him for years before I’d finally found some self-respect and given up on that fantasy. But sometimes, when he smiled that endearing smile, long-dormant butterflies stirred in my stomach. That and trying to control my thoughts around him made working with the guy a genuine struggle.

But, I thought as my eyes slid appreciatively over his form, it’s a struggle worth enduring. Even if it required hearing about his string of girlfriends. That part I could’ve done without.

You can’t have touched a doughnut in years. I took one anyway and set it on a napkin on my desk.

I’ll have you know I’ve already eaten three this morning. Adam took a bite of his fourth. Got ’em for everyone since I was already running late. Forgot that ’alf the office would be out.

Yep, everyone’s got plans, I muttered, clicking through tabs on my computer.

Adam was chronically late but also immensely charming, so people rarely said anything to him about it. As long as he completed his work, no one cared.

Speaking of. Adam pulled up a chair, his knee brushing my leg. What are your holiday plans?

My mother wants me to come see her and my family for the entire week. But I’d rather drive finishing nails into my eyeballs.

That bad, huh?

They’re fine. Just typical small-town republican types. Their stance on me being gay is ‘We don’t hate you, just what you do.’ As if that makes any sense or they should even have an opinion.

Adam chewed his doughnut ponderously.

"Anyway, my mom wants me to ignore all the microaggressions flung my way in the name of family. It’s stupid. But I was dumb enough to tell her I would be off next week, so…" I stopped typing with a final angry click.

I looked at Adam, who was still ridiculously handsome even with flecks of doughnut glaze around his mouth. A strand of dark hair had fallen to partially cover one of his blue-green eyes. He was clearly listening, even if I was complaining.

Sorry I’m whining, I said. "I should be grateful my conservative family didn’t disown me when they discovered who I am."

Where’d you hear that? Adam grabbed a napkin from my desk and wiped his face. Being forced to spend time with people opposed to your existence isn’t any better.

You are so wise, I said with only a touch of sarcasm. Glancing down at my doughnut, I gave in and took a bite. What about you? I asked with a full mouth. What are your holiday plans?

Adam shrugged. Don’t have any. My family is going on a cruise, but that’s not my thing. I’m not the biggest fan of deep water.

"Jaws fucked you up as a kid, too, huh?"

Sharks I can handle, Adam said. But I have a realistic fear of hitting an iceberg.

Where’s the cruise?

The Bahamas.

I blinked at him. Somehow, I think you’d be fine there.

Better to be safe than sorry. Adam nudged me with his elbow and laughed.

His infectious laugh was part of why people liked him. And for some reason, he liked hanging out with me. He was my best friend at the office, always feeding me, talking to me about movies or