by E. F. Mulder
“Come anyway.” Gideon put his credit card in the slot. After Priscilla’s gifts, he’d still have enough on it for coffee and a doughnut Christmas morning. “Bring your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have one.”
“It’ll still be fun. Elvis’s Sing-Along Karaoke…now with live music. Remember the name.”
“Okay. Maybe,” Kurt said smiling. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too.”
When Gideon turned around at the door, Kurt was swinging the wrapping paper tube like a sword, maybe a lightsaber, as he headed back toward the rack where it went. That made Gideon smile.
Kurt showed up at the bar around eleven, right in the middle of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Gideon had on the beard, and Eileen was doing the kissing.
Denise had brought her daughter, Maddie. She and Kurt really hit it off. They both drank ginger ale. If Kurt showed Brett his ID, Brett hadn’t bought it. It was nice to see two young people enjoying each other’s company. Maybe the possibility of new romance only existed for the young. Gideon felt a little bit like Matchmaker Santa, the Hallmark Christmas movie he’d watched just that morning. At the same time, he felt a little bit envious.
As midnight approached, he wanted to make everyone forget they were in a seedy bar instead of gathered around the tree with loved ones. He played “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” one last time before December 25th officially arrived yet again. It was almost Christmas day, for the twenty-third time since the saddest one Gideon had ever had. To him, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” wasn’t depressing, though, even if he was a thousand miles away from the place that really, truly felt like home. Like the lyrics said, sometimes dreams were the best a person could do—memories—and he had those, every one of them a precious gift better than anything he’d find under the tree or those dumb old shoes. “If only memories could hug.”
Every year, Gideon vowed it would be the last one he spent alone.
“Though I’m not really alone,” he’d said to Priscilla earlier in the evening, denying what he felt in his heart. “We have each other, my precious one, and tomorrow Curtis and Beth will come…and Mom and Dad.”
Yes, he could dream, and despite trying not to sometimes—wanting to give up hope on certain days—he couldn’t stop, stop hoping or dreaming.
“Where’d you meet Kurt again?” Denise asked Gideon as he ended the yuletide classic. Kurt and Maddie were still dancing, even once the music stopped.
“The grocery store. He just reminded me so much of my little brother. Here. Have I shown you his picture?”
He knew he had, but he wanted to look at it himself. Denise knew he had, too, but she was kind enough to say she didn’t remember.
“This is all of us on Christmas when I was seven.”
Gideon had scanned the photograph his grandmother had taken the day of Beth’s concert into the phone.
“What a beautiful family.”
“Yes.” Gideon stood so suddenly Denise flinched. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
He considered staying in there an extra couple of minutes. It was 11:57, three minutes until Christmas. His feelings were all over the place. That always happened in December.
“No,” he said to his reflection in the spotted mirror over the cracked, white porcelain sink with the dripping faucet. “We all need one another.”
The hour upon them, everyone hugged while singing “Silent Night.” With the whole crowd around the piano, altos, sopranos, tenors, and even a baritone or two—Kurt, maybe—”heavenly peace” never sounded more beautiful. The harmony gave Gideon chills. Unfortunately, most everyone’s back was to the big pink Christmas tree. Only Gideon faced it, but his view was blocked by the front of the piano and all the people. The window to the street would have made a better spot for the metallic monstrosity. “A lesson for next year,” Gideon thought. He knew he’d be there. Elvis’s Vegas Sing-Along Bar was starting to feel like home.
A quicker tempo made for a cheerier mood when Gideon kicked off the first few bars of “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” By the second verse, he was downright merry. Yes. Home.
“Hey, Giddy-up.” Brett held up a large box from under the tree during a lengthy improvisational instrumental bridge. “Santa was here.”
“What?” Gideon stood for a better look. “Aww.” He kept playing. “You guys shouldn’t have.”
“We didn’t,” Tina claimed.
“I’ll open it in a minute. We have a song to finish.”
Through a foggy, somewhat sad Christmas Eve, by the time Gideon got to the gleeful reindeer part, something hit him.
“Rudolph the—”
He suddenly stopped singing. The gang quieted, too.
“Rudolph…”
“Huh?” Corinne, Andrew’s really tall fiancé, put her hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Rudolph.” He stood and hurried right past her.
“What about him?” she asked.
Out the door, into the street, “Hey!” Gideon called to someone’s back. It was him. “Rudy! Stop!”
The man turned.
“Oh.”
It wasn’t Rudy.
“Merry Christmas, sir,” Gideon said.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Not everyone was filled with holiday spirit, apparently.
“Where’d you go?” Brett asked, handing over the box when Gideon returned.
“Is it for everyone?” He felt rather foolish.
“Just you, Giddy-Up. Merry Christmas, Gideon. That’s what the tag says.”
“Open it,” Andrew demanded, his arm around Corrine’s waist, probably because he couldn’t reach her shoulders.
“Yeah. Hurry up!” Michelle said.
Gideon slowly untied the satin gold ribbon. “The angel paper…” There were four different little blond girls on it, facing each other in pairs. The pattern repeated all over the front, down each side, and across the bottom when Gideon turned the box upside down, then looked at Kurt.
“It’s not from me.”
The box was big enough for a Blue Ray player, or maybe a nice jacket of some kind. Could it be a pair of leather boots, perhaps? “Hurry up!” Michelle was growing increasingly impatient.
Still taking his time, being really careful with the paper, Gideon gasped when he finally saw what was inside. “The shoes. How?”
“Shoes?” Brett asked.
“The ones you bid on and bought?” Denise wrinkled her nose. “They’re ugly.”
“No…I mean…they kind of are, but…” Gideon held one to his chest. “I…I lied, because you all wanted me to have them so much.” He sniffled. “I came up short. I couldn’t buy them. You knew that, though, huh?” Gideon looked at everyone one of them, one at a time. “They are from you, right? Tell the truth. They have to be.”
Brett shook his head.
“They have to be.”
“I wish they were.” Tina wiped her eyes on her red, ruffled apron.
“I kind of feel bad they’re not,” Jacob said.
“It was him, then.”
“Who?” Rex asked.
“Rudy. I knew it was.”
“That guy from that night?” Brigitte motioned toward the handcuffs.
“Yes. I heard him. There are what, thirty people in here, all singing at once? And I knew his voice.”
“I didn’t see him, Giddy-Up.”
“That’s how he wanted it, Brett. I wonder why.”
“Maybe he’s afraid of you.” Eileen chuckled, but what if it was true?
Gideon checked the BuyBay site. Sure enough, the proof was there.
“Look.” He held up his phone. “90sFandemonium won the bid, paying a whopping $211! 90sFandemonium is Rudy.”
“Wow. So, the guy’s not a great big jerk after all,” Denise said.
“Who’d have thunk it?” Dot asked.
“Me,” Gideon said. “Deep down, I knew.”
When the bar closed a little after t
wo, Gideon headed up to his apartment. “Merry Christmas, Priscilla. Look what Daddy got.” He showed her the box with the shoes. “I hope I get to thank Santa…or did they come from some sort of angel, delivered through Rudy? And look at the beautiful paper.”
He smoothed it out on the kitchen counter beside the tree he’d just plugged in. Though the giftwrap was a little wrinkled, it was still in pretty good shape.
“I can use it for Beth and Curtis’s presents. I was going to make my own out of grocery bags, but this will be…It’ll be pretty special, don’t you think? We’ll wrap them first thing in the morning.”
Gideon went to the fridge for the second to last piece of cranberry pie. He set it on the arm of the couch, and then went back for the box with the shoes and Priscilla. Sinking back into the cushion behind him, he turned on the TV.
“Let’s see if we can find…There it is.”
Channel 11 had the yule log on.
“And now we’ll try on Daddy’s shoes on Christmas morning, just like Skippy Funn. I wish it was snowing.” He looked at the icicles on the tiny tree across the room. “I think I like snow again. Curtis and Beth still do, I bet.”
Gideon took each shoe out of the box and set them one at a time on the floor at his feet. He straightened both of his red socks, slipped in one foot, and then the other. There was plenty of room to wiggle his toes.
“Way too big.” Gideon smiled.
He sang several carols along with the television, sang himself to sleep, actually, but awoke with a hearty snort after just a few minutes.
After downing the pie he hadn’t touched, then licking the paper plate clean, he stood and stretched. “Bedtime.”
With Priscilla once again in his arms, Gideon stepped out of the shoes on the rubber mat. That was where they would go, not on one of his shoe shelves.
“Perfect, I’d say.”
He took a while to look at them there, at the entire line that now looked exactly like it should.
“Just right.”
Remembering some cookies in his duffel bag that Dot had brought in, Gideon grabbed them before heading for the bed.
“Everyone bakes for the holiday, even those who never bake any other time of year. Dot’s candy canes kind of look like red snakes, huh, Priscilla?” Gideon smiled. “And you know, the only good thing about sleeping alone?”
Gideon’s underwear hit the floor just outside the bedroom door.
“I can get crumbs in the sheets and no one will yell at me.”
It was a pretty short night, but Gideon awoke feeling jolly. There was something special about starting Christmas with the first hint of daylight. He put on Frank Funn’s oxfords, and immediately got to work finishing his craft project. Two plain teddy bears soon became the spitting image of Elvis. Everything Gideon needed he’d gotten at the same thrift store they’d come from. A ratty old witch’s wig for trick-or-treat was perfect for their hair once combed out and slicked back with thinned down glue days earlier. A sequined scarf from the dollar bin made two collars and two pairs of shirt cuffs. The jumpsuits Gideon attached them to were made from infant onesies, one red, one green, because they were Christmassy.
“Not bad.”
Gideon was a pretty good sewer, thanks to Gramma Star.
“I can’t wait to show Curtis and Beth the shoes—the bears and the shoes.”
Within half an hour, Priscilla was balanced against the snowman on Gideon’s Christmas sweater. A small container with the last slice of cranberry pie and the pair of Elvis bears wrapped in angel paper were in a grocery bag that hung from Gideon’s wrist. He was showered and shaved, and ready for a visit from his family.
“l bet everyone will have a ton of questions about what I do now. Mom always said, back when we were all really little, ‘With a name like Star, you all have to be one in some way.’ At least I pretend I am. That’s close, right?”
Stepping from the top rung of the fire escape ladder onto the roof, Gideon nearly dropped the bag.
“Oops.”
He set everything down, “Merry Christmas,” and called out to the sky. “I brought you something, Mom and Dad.” After scalloping a rope of cranberry garland he’d made around a large square vent cap, he set the two bears under it. “I figure you can enjoy the garland through the holidays, and then the birds can eat it.” Gideon rubbed a plump, red berry between his thumb and index finger. “You still like Christmas decorations, right, Mom…Dad…?”
Sitting with his back to the vent, Gideon had a perfect view of the blue and pink sunrise in the east.
“Thanks for coming all the way from Oregon. It’s a little warmer than the Christmases we had together there, but I felt like I needed a change after all these years.”
Gideon popped the lid off the bowl with the pie.
“Shh. You can open your present pretty soon, Curtis. Let Beth finish her song first.”
Gideon clapped when it was over.
“I love that song so much. I sing now…every night. Pretty cool, huh, little sis?”
Gideon waited for an answer.
“And I built some shelves in my new apartment, just like you would Curtis…you and Dad. I learned to play the piano too, Mom, but you already know that. I’ve played for a while now. I figure it’s up to me to carry on with the Star family skills. Oh. I better help you two with the paper.”
Gideon unwrapped both bears.
“They kind of look like me, huh? Considering my lack of grocery money some weeks, I sure do eat.” Gideon held up the wedge of pie as proof. “My belly’s as big as Santa’s almost, isn’t it?”
It nearly was, at least when he pushed it out purposely.
“Maybe not, but soon. Do you like them…the bears?”
The morning was quiet, but Gideon heard happy sounds.
“I wonder sometimes if you’re still little. Are you, or have you both grown up now, like me?” Gideon sighed. “I don’t really know how it works,” he admitted. “It would be kind of cool if you were still young…and if I got little again when I joined you there, so we could grow up together, like we would have if…”
The sun was warm on Gideon’s wet cheek, even though the temperature was quite cool.
“I love you, too, Mom.”
He touched the other one.
“And Dad. I miss you…all of you…a lot, no matter how much time passes.”
Gideon turned so his back was up against the façade of the next building over, allowing the sun to shine over his whole body.
“I feel a whole lot less lonely most nights than I did this time last year…and maybe for quite a few Christmases before that.” He stretched out his feet. “Hey. Check out my shoes. A couple of weeks ago, this guy came into Elvis’s Vegas Sing-Along Bar. That’s where I sing. I made a lot of great friends there. They were so funny back when this whole shoe thing started. Let me go back to the beginning. See, I wanted these shoes from BuyBay, this pair right here.” Gideon lifted one up off the floor of the roof. “But someone else wanted them, too, this guy named…Hold up.”
Gideon listened.
“Yes, I think you’re right. I hear it too…singing, Beth, and not you this time.”
He stood and peered over the edge of the roof. Last time he’d been mistaken, but now, it was definitely him.
“Hey!” Gideon called down to the street.
“Gideon?”
“No. Santa Claus. I got stuck up here last night.”
Rudy laughed. “Good one.” He had shown up for Christmas.
Chapter 6
“What are you doing…? Come join me,” Gideon shouted loud enough to hurt his throat.
“You sure?” Rudy shielded his eyes. “We didn’t leave things on the best of terms.”
“The shoes.”
“What?”
“You mean because of the shoes?”
“Yeah. I was kind of a jerk, so…sorry.”
“Well, I chained you to a bar, so…I’m sorry, too.”
A loud bird interrup
ted the back and forth, perhaps telling the two annoying men to stop screeching at each other.
“We good?” Gideon asked.
“Yeah.” Rudy’s untucked shirttail flapped in a sudden breeze. He, on the other hand, was still.
“You coming up then?”
Rudy didn’t respond.
“Rudy?”
“It’s pretty high.” He moved his foot back and forth in the gravel below.
“Not really. It just looks high from down there.”
“I have a feeling it’ll look high from up there, too.”
“I could come down.”
“No. Don’t do that.” Still, Rudy made no move to step up onto the ladder.
“I have pie,” Gideon said.
“What kind of pie?”
Gideon smiled. “Cranberry.”
“I like pie.”
Gideon crouched down and offered a hand. “Then come get some.”
It took another moment or two, but Rudy finally put one foot up on the ladder. His shoes were more casual than the ones he’d worn into the bar a couple weeks earlier. These were suede, hiking boots, sort of, with thick, black soles.
“There you go.”
He started up.
“One step at a time.”
“It still seems pretty high.” Rudy smiled. Only his face was visible, his feet still several rungs down.
“You don’t like heights?”
“Not a lot.”
“Don’t look down. You only have four more steps. I’ll hold your hand.” Gideon reached for it.
“Did I startle you?” Rudy’s grip was pretty tight.
“No. I heard the tires on the gravel and then the car door.”
“You heard that all the way up here?”
“All before the singing.”
The grunt that came out of Rudy when he made the last step from the ladder to the roof was kind of sexy. “Whoa.”
“You’re okay. Look at me.”
“That I don’t mind.”
Gideon felt the heat rise up his neck. “Sound from below…or up above…sometimes you can hear it, sometimes not.”
“Up above?” Rudy looked up. “Shit. Looking up is as bad as looking down.”
“Come here. We’ll sit.” Gideon led him by the hand over toward the vent.