The Santa Project

by Elinor Gray

  “So do you spend Christmas alone?” David asked.

  Adam realized how it sounded. “I mean,” he said, defensive again. He took another sip of his mocha. “Pretty much. Sometimes I get together with my friend Kevin and his girlfriend for their Jewish take-out night. It could be worse.”

  David was nodding, his mouth squished into an understanding frown. Then he was shaking his head. “I wish I was staying here for Christmas. I bet I could help you enjoy it.”

  Adam felt his eyebrows practically climb up into his hair. “Bold statement,” he said, and then, feeling cheeky, added, “for a first date.”

  David grinned. “I’m sure I could get some of my personal cheer to rub off on you.” He wasn’t denying it was a first date. That made Adam smile, despite the fact that he was airing his family grievances to this almost-complete-stranger. “Really,” David went on, “there’s so much to do in Whitesprings in December, all of it incredibly festive.”

  “Almost painfully so,” Adam interjected.

  “If you take that attitude, it will be,” David promised.

  “But you’re leaving,” Adam said, “so you won’t be here for Christmas.”

  David shook his head. “I’m flying to my folks’ in Philadelphia on the twenty-third,” he said, “as soon as school lets out. So we have until then.”

  “Hm,” Adam said, sitting back and crossing his arms. “But the twenty-fifth is Christmas. Without it I’m not sure how you’re going to finish convincing me Christmas can be any fun.”

  David sighed and finished his drink. “You’re right. I’ll have to let you find the true meaning of Christmas yourself.”

  Adam made a face. He was pretty sure this scheme of David’s wasn’t going to work.

  “They’re lighting the lights in Howard Square on Friday night,” David said. “Would you like to come see it with me?”

  Adam didn’t hate lights. He wasn’t immune to their sparkly charm. And he was free on Friday.

  “Okay,” he said. “Yes. I would like to.”

  David grinned and pulled out his phone. “Can I pick you up?”

  “You can.” Adam took the phone when David offered it and entered his number in a new contact. “And I’m holding you to this.”

  “I’m considering it a serious challenge,” David said. “And I don’t back down on challenges.”

  DAVID WALKED with Adam down the street to the Craft Emporium. Adam had to go through the steps of opening up, but he let David wander around inside until he had turned on all the lights, set up a few of the more obnoxious displays, made sure the glitter glue was stocked, and activated a register. By then, David had done a few laps and picked up a basket-full of paper goods and streamers, as well as a few balls of yarn.

  “Is this a good place to start, if I want to learn to knit?” David asked, putting the basket on the counter and pulling the yarn out.

  “It’s fine,” Adam said. “Since you’re just starting out, you won’t want to spend a fortune on your materials, but these are decent.”

  “You shop somewhere else?”

  “I get my yarn at the Frayed Knot up on Salmon Street. Or online.”

  “Okay, when I get good, you can take me there. For now, set me up with the basics.”

  Adam came out from behind the counter and walked David back to the Fiber Arts section of the store. He picked out some straight wooden needles that were the right size for the yarn and said, “Now, who’s going to teach you?”

  “You are, obviously,” David said with a sly look. “In exchange for me helping you learn the meaning of Christmas.”

  Adam laughed. “Wait a minute!”

  “Listen,” David said, “you’re clearly an expert, and you need something to do with your evenings besides moping at home.”

  “I thought that’s what the nights out looking at lights were for.”

  “No, this is in exchange for that.”

  “Seems like you benefit both ways.”

  “So do you,” David said, giving Adam a gentle poke in the sternum. “Acts of service are a service to one’s self.”

  “Oh, you are an elementary school teacher,” Adam said, remembering the news segment in which David had extolled the virtues of community activism. “Fine, you’re on. Knitting lessons and Christmas spirit.”

  “That’s more like it,” David said.

  DAVID HAD been running out of excuses to go to the Whitesprings Craft Emporium. His third-grade classroom was already decked to the hilt. David had even gone out of his way to incorporate the more obscure winter holidays, telling himself it was in order to share the beauty of multiculturalism with his students; really it was just a reason to go buy more craft supplies. His budget for November and December had gone out the window, and he was probably going to have to have a meeting with the Resources Manager to explain why he needed so much glitter glue.

  But Adam was so cute. He wore a rainbow button on his apron at the Craft Emporium, above a “he/him/his” laminated badge and an enamel pin of a unicorn jumping through a cloud. He had curly brown hair and hazel eyes and freckles that David would consider risking his life for. He wore sweaters he made himself, for heaven’s sake. And he hated Christmas.

  David couldn’t relate to that, but he found it oddly endearing, especially with the birthday in the mix. His own family was very into the holidays, and he’d brought a little of that enthusiasm to Whitesprings with him. He’d decorated the front door of his apartment and rimmed the doorframe with lights. He’d set up a fake tree that wouldn’t die while he was out of town and put on it all the ornaments his students had made for him over the years. He had snowflake decals on his windows, more lights around the perimeter of the living room, and a single cinnamon candle that he burned every evening when he got home from school. It made grading homework more festive.

  David’s parents had come to America in the early ’70s to attend university; an American Christmas had been important to them. David’s oldest brother, Jem, had memories of the family’s earliest Christmases, before the Okoyes had had all that much money and gifts were one-apiece; David’s sister Esther, the middle child, had been around for the tail end of that, but then David’s dad had become a partner at the law firm, and a third kid had made sense. As the youngest, David’s memories of Christmas were always extravagant, brightly lit affairs that started on Christmas Eve and lasted through Boxing Day.

  On the surface David knew his version of Christmas was just another trapping of capitalism. Still, he loved shopping for his family. Picking out the perfect new sweater for Jem brought him joy, and researching art supplies for Esther’s latest projects made him appreciate his sister’s creativity. Now that his parents were retired, they wanted less “stuff,” but that just meant David spent his time looking up cheap flights to interesting places and putting together travel packages for their kids to all chip in on. Jem’s wife and kids were now in the picture too, so David got to buy nice hiking socks for Sharon and board books and wooden blocks for Mikey and Harriet. Harriet was turning four this year, and David had started indulging himself in shopping for little girls’ dress-up costumes.

  Christmas brought out the best in people, David believed. Most people. Most of the time. Sure, some people were jerks about Christmas, but they were jerks the rest of the year too. Christmas was an excuse to slow down, appreciate life, celebrate his family, drink Kahlúa in his cocoa, and wear stupid holiday sweaters.

  Having a birthday on Christmas clearly had corrupted Adam’s opinion of what could be a truly excellent holiday. David was determined to help him enjoy it this year. It felt like the least he could do in the spirit of Christmas.

  FRIDAY NIGHT, David arranged to arrive at Adam’s house half an hour before the sun set. The lighting ceremony wasn’t until six o’clock, so this would give them time to get over to Howard Square, browse the shops that stayed open late for the occasion, get a bite to eat, and get a good position in the crowd for the countdown.

  The lights
in the front windows of Adam’s house were on, and as he approached, David could see Adam’s form moving back and forth behind the blinds. David swallowed down the lump of nervousness that had risen in his throat. Why was he so determined to make Christmas fun for this guy? Just because he was cute? He could wait until January and save himself the trouble, if he had any sense.

  But he didn’t have a lot of sense. That was what his mom had always said, fondly. If David couldn’t help Adam enjoy Christmas, he wasn’t a lost cause. He would just take a little more work. But David felt compelled to start somewhere.

  When he answered the door, Adam was wearing another hand-knit sweater: this one was a heathered gray and had big cables running up the body and over the shoulders to snake back down the arms.

  “Hey,” Adam said, “I’m almost ready. Come on in.”

  Adam’s living room was warm and welcoming: he had a big leather couch in the middle of the room facing a television over a fireplace and a pair of ottoman footstools in front of it, one of which served as a coffee table. A bookshelf across the room held an array of gray fabric boxes that David realized were full of yarn.

  Adam was sitting on the other ottoman and tying his boots. “How’s the temperature out there?”

  “Cold.” David pulled his gloves off and tucked them into his pockets. “But we’ll get warm moving around, and the food and cider will be hot.”

  “You a cider man, over hot chocolate?” Adam asked, looking up with a grin.

  David grinned back. “I don’t discriminate. Both are good with liquor in them.”

  “Good point.” Adam stood up and reached for his coat. “All right, lead me to your terrible Christmas tradition. I promise not to enjoy it.”

  David tugged his hat down over his ears. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  They walked the few blocks side by side. The sidewalk had been shoveled and salted, and it hadn’t snowed in a few days, so the going was easy and David didn’t have to watch his feet the whole time. Instead, they could talk.

  Adam’s bachelor’s degree, which he’d gotten at a local university, was in journalism. “I was on the school paper from the time I was in third grade. Actually, I had to start the elementary school paper so I’d have something to write news for.”

  David laughed. “Maybe you should come teach my kids the value of a good newspaper.”

  “Maybe I should,” Adam said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets and his shoulders hunched. “I’m not really cut out for retail. I’d rather write articles.”

  “What kind?”

  “DIY projects and crafts,” Adam said. “Handiwork. Design. I’ve done some pieces for blogs, but they don’t buy more than a week or two of groceries.”

  He was drowned out by the noise as they approached the crowd gathering in Howard Square to experience the annual holiday lighting. The square was draped with strings of lights, and the shops and restaurants that surrounded the square had decked themselves out with all the festivity their windows could hold. The restaurants were supplemented by food carts and outdoor bars, all of the servers bundled up against the icy air. It felt like it would snow again soon; David could taste it.

  Rather than risk losing Adam in the crowd, David hooked his hand through Adam’s bent elbow. Adam looked over at him, surprised, and David gave him a wink. “Cider or cocoa?”

  “Cider,” Adam said with a smile. “Cocoa for dessert.”

  They did a lap of the food carts, stopping for hot cider, and then returned to a truck serving loaded burritos. Elbow-to-elbow, cradling their burritos, they made their way toward the tree in the middle of the square. It was a hundred years old and forty feet tall, and the city had spent a week decorating it. Children from local schools, David’s included, had made ornaments for the tree, and David was almost certain he could spot a few of his kids’ art projects. He pointed them out.

  “You can tell them apart from here?” Adam asked.

  “What can I say?” David responded. “They’re my kids.”

  As the crowd of people increased, Adam half turned so he was facing David’s side, their hips almost pressed against one another. David was sure he could feel heat between them.

  As it grew darker, David could feel the excitement in the air, and he let himself touch Adam more, as if trying to pass the festive energy to Adam through the fabric of his coat. Adam was smiling, clearly going back on his promise to hate the whole experience.

  Finally the mayor got up on the stage and said a few words, welcoming people to the holiday season and listing half a dozen holidays they might be celebrating. David doubted the population of Whitesprings really celebrated all of those holidays, but he appreciated the shout-out to diversity.

  Then there was a countdown, given with the same enthusiasm as the countdown to the New Year. David called out numbers along with everyone else, and he nudged Adam enough times that Adam finally joined in for the final “Three! Two! One!”

  Then the tree, the square, and the restaurants and storefronts surrounding it all blazed with light at once. White and colored lights zigzagged up the tree, surrounding the ornaments made by the kids and running all the way to the top where an enormous star lit up the sky. Lights were strung from the branches twenty feet up to the old-fashioned street lamps that ringed the square, creating a glittering tent.

  Adam was gazing up at the bright lights that twinkled and shone in the cold night air.

  “Okay,” he said with a breathless little laugh that made David’s heart skip, “that was pretty cool.”

  Two Weeks Before Christmas

  TUESDAY NIGHT, David had his first knitting lesson. Adam came over after work at seven, which gave David enough time to get home, do his grading, start dinner, and take care of some of his preparations for the next day.

  Adam was still dressed for work in a button-down and slacks, and when he stepped into David’s apartment he gave a groan of satisfaction and relief.

  “It smells amazing in here,” he said, letting his coat slide off his arms. David took it and hung it up.

  “Thanks,” he said. “It’s pork loin and swiss chard with polenta. It’ll be done in a few minutes. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Whatever you’re drinking.” Adam headed for the couch and sank down into its pillows. “Thanks for feeding me.”

  “Of course,” David said, giving the polenta another vigorous churn in the pot.

  After they’d eaten, Adam offered to clean up, but David waved him off.

  “You have another job.” He crossed the room to pick up the Craft Emporium bag. Inside lay the balls of rustic green wool and wooden needles Adam had picked.

  “Right,” Adam said, smiling and joining him in the living room. They sat down on the sofa, Adam turned toward David, their knees bumping. Adam took the ball and unwound it a few turns, and then made a slip knot. He opened the needle packaging and put the slip knot onto one of the needles. “Okay. I’m going to show you how to cast on first, which is how you start any project. Then I’ll show you the knit stitch.”

  With Adam’s guidance, David poked and prodded, wrapped and pulled, and managed to get thirty lumpy stitches onto the needle. Adam was a gentle instructor, patient and sharp-eyed, catching David’s mistakes almost before he’d made them and steering him back in the right direction. Every time he reached out to make a correction, David found himself leaning into Adam’s touch. He liked being guided by Adam’s deft fingers and was eager to make his teacher proud.

  He had always been a teacher’s pet.

  Once the cast-on was completed, Adam took the project back and showed David how to make the knit stitch. David understood it on a superficial level, but as soon as he tried to make it, he felt like he was all thumbs. This made Adam laugh and give David more of that hands-on guidance he really wanted.

  It took them the better part of an hour to get David through a few rows; by nine o’clock he had a respectable wiggle of knitting stuffed onto the needles. The rows were a little
wonky, and he could pick out a place or two that had an extra stitch, but Adam had helped him catch most of the mistakes.

  Better than that, he’d been sitting within a few inches of the other man, their heads close together, the smell of Adam’s shampoo mingling with David’s cologne. It was a heady fragrance, and David blamed his fumbling fingers on it each time. Adam’s voice had dropped lower, and the music David was playing in the background seemed to fade so that they were surrounded by a softness and warmth that made David’s skin tingle.

  David’s phone pinged with an alert, and Adam glanced over at it. “Oh, man. I forgot it was a weeknight.”

  “It’s okay,” David said quickly. “That’s just a guideline.”

  Adam grinned. “I’m sure it is,” he said, teasingly. “But you have school in the morning.”

  David smiled back, feeling his face heat. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  At the door, Adam zipped up his coat and hesitated. David paused, his hand on the doorknob. He gave Adam a look. “Everything okay?”

  “Can I—can I get a kiss before I go?”

  David grinned. “Sure.” He let go of the doorknob and stood up straight. Adam was a little taller than he was, and he had to tip his chin up. Adam had a shadow of stubble on his face, and his lips looked plump and firm. David licked his own, suddenly conscious, and Adam cracked a smile. He reached up and put his crooked knuckle under David’s chin, creating what felt like a warm current of electricity, and then pressed their mouths together softly.

  David felt himself relaxing and put a hand on Adam’s chest. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he could feel Adam’s heart pounding through his coat. Adam’s lips were soft, his stubble prickly against David’s chin. After a moment, Adam drew back a fraction, giving David a chance to take a breath, and then they were kissing again, pressing more firmly together. Another moment, another breath, and their lips parted against one another, deepening the kiss just enough for Adam’s tongue to touch David’s once, twice.