Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

His lips quirked. “I’m all right. Do you need anything?”

  I was afraid to say it. He spared me the discomfort. “May I borrow your pen?”

  I held it out to him and he took my hand again, jotting a number on my palm. “You can reach me here if you want to talk, but I’d prefer we keep it to the daylight hours. Police aren’t a welcome sight with my crowd and you’ve got a pretty familiar face.” He smiled. “Just let me know when, okay?”

  I swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

  He gave me a good-natured salute and disappeared into the shadows. I punched his number into my phone before it disappeared too.

  37

  May

  “YOU GONNA plant any flowers?”

  I laid my shovel on the grass, crouching to take a closer look at a bush that hadn’t made a return this spring. Paddy watched me from the steps, a beer in his hand. I prodded the bush’s roots. “Can you pass me the hand saw?”

  He did. I wedged my boot under the bush and cut through the roots one at a time. I heaved the whole thing out of the ground, kicking at it with satisfaction. I dropped down on the steps next to Paddy and opened my own beer, draining half of it in one gulp. I wiped my mouth. “It’s still too early for flowers, but yeah. For Max. His mom was a florist and he always liked them.”

  “I remember. Before your wedding he had me running all over town like I was the maid of honor or some shit, looking at all these flower arrangements. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about when he said he wanted sprigs. I had to search it online. Felt like an idiot.”

  “You thought best man duties were limited to speeches and strip clubs?”

  “Hey, a strip club I coulda done, but he wouldn’t go for it. Said all he wanted was you.”

  I sipped my beer. “What a sap.”

  “Your sap.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’d be proud of you,” Paddy said. I glanced up but he was looking off into the distance, his mouth drawn down. “You went off the rails for a bit but you found your way back. He’d be real proud of you, Mordecai.”

  I lowered my gaze. “That’s why I do it. Every day is for Max. Every case I work, every pill I take, everything. So he’d be proud.”

  “You holding up okay with the news on the trial?”

  “I guess so. A delay’s not unexpected. The defense always finds a reason to stall when their client’s looking at the death penalty. July’s not so far off, and this way…” I emptied my beer, setting it down on the stoop. I rested my elbows on my knees. “This way I can mark the anniversary separately. I want the garden planted by then. The flowers won’t be close to full bloom, but he’d appreciate them anyway. But first I have to pull all this crap out.”

  “You still got three weeks.”

  I nodded. I’d have to find out if I had the right conditions for lilies. Lilies were his favorite.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to check the text. Paddy shifted his weight. “That your friend?”

  I put the phone away. “Telemarketer.”

  “Bullshit. I told you I wanna meet this guy.”

  I smiled. “Does he need your approval?”

  “Hell yes he needs my approval. You’ve been better since you went on the meds, but your judgement’s not always up to snuff. I just wanna be sure you’re, y’know, making good choices.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Don’t be a smartass.”

  I set my empty beer bottle on its side and rolled it down the walk, watching it drop off the curb. “Did it occur to you that maybe he’s the reason I’m doing better?”

  “If this is because I won’t go in the damn church—”

  “It’s not, Paddy. I don’t hold that against you. But sometimes I need to be around someone who didn’t know Max the way you did, or the way Josie or Whale or Dixon did. I need to be around someone who isn’t grieving for him, and my friend… he gives me distance.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  “I think it’s what I need.”

  “I still want to meet him.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  I got up and stretched, then picked up my shovel again, eyeing the next bush.

  “You want a hand?” Paddy asked.

  I buried the shovel in the dirt. “You think I invited you over just to drink all my beer?”

  “Sure. A token of your appreciation.”

  “I’d appreciate if you ran the chainsaw.”

  “Suppose I could do that.”

  He got off the steps, pausing beside me. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna make it.”

  I kicked the blade deeper. “I’m going to try. Now hurry up with that chainsaw, would you? These junipers are a real bitch.”

  “HE’S GOING to kill me, you know,” Presley said. “He thinks I’m a creep.”

  I set a sack of groceries on the kitchen counter and Presley did the same. “He doesn’t know you,” I said. “He might not even recognize you without the blue hair. You look kind of distinguished now.”

  Presley made a face. “I doubt he’ll be impressed by my haircut. But if it’s important to you we can make a date. Somewhere public, with lots of witnesses.”

  “Would you feel better if I brought my gun?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  He rummaged through the cupboards for a frying pan and set it on the stove, then began unpacking vegetables from the grocery bags. He arranged them on the cutting block and glanced around the kitchen. “Remind me where you keep your knives.”

  “In the spice cabinet.” He got out a chef’s knife, and I watched him slice open some kind of squash and scoop out the insides. “Remind me what you’re making?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  He peeled and diced garlic before pounding it with the flat of the knife. He moved on to a handful of small onions and some hot peppers, tossing the whole works into the frying pan. He added the squash seeds, drizzled everything with oil, and turned on the burner. Then he was back in the spice cabinet, throwing in pinches and dashes of God knows what.

  “What am I supposed to be doing?” I asked.

  Presley smiled. “Start on the wine.”

  “I can help—”

  “My gift to you. You paid, I cook.”

  “I don’t mind paying.”

  “And I don’t mind cooking. Let me look after this, Mordecai. Have a glass of wine.”

  I opened the bottle, pouring for both of us. If I didn’t think about it I could pretend we were celebrating. If I got drunk enough maybe I’d forget. No one said anything, but it hung unspoken in every conversation, blanketing me like a shroud. One week from today would mark a year without Max.

  My first year.

  I poured myself more wine.

  By the time Presley served up dinner I was on the south side of tipsy and ravenously hungry. I buried my fork eagerly into the mound of food and shoveled it into my mouth. Presley stopped me before I could do it again.

  “Wait,” he said. “We’re in a cathedral. Shouldn’t we say grace?”

  “Not a cathedral,” I mumbled, swallowing. “I think it was Presbyterian.”

  “Cathedral sounds better. You should call it a cathedral.”

  “Why do you want to say grace?”

  “It seems appropriate.”

  I set down my fork. “Fine. Say grace.”

  Presley bowed his head so I did too, and he offered thanks to some indeterminate higher power. When he’d finished I said, “Feel better?”

  He gestured grandly to my plate. “You may partake.”

  “Good. This is fucking delicious.”

  “Glad you enjoy it.”

  “It’s fantastic, Presley. Seriously. How’d you learn to do this?”

  “My mother taught me,” he said. “She had a jar in the kitchen we’d both put money into. She wanted to get formal training, but instead… well, instead she got sick.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “I never thou
ght she needed lessons. She had a gift.”

  “I could say the same for you. You ever thought about culinary school?”

  Presley shrugged, twirling noodles around his fork. “Maybe someday.”

  I studied his face. “If there’s something I could do to help…”

  “Thank you, but it’s not the right time.”

  “Well, my kitchen is yours. You can cook for me anytime.”

  He smiled. “How generous of you.”

  I took a long sip of wine and decided to go for it. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome to more than my kitchen, you know. I mean, you’re over here a lot and I’ve got space…”

  He regarded me evenly. I drank more wine. “I guess what I’m saying is you should move in. If you want to. I want you to. I like having you around.”

  “And?”

  I felt the flush in my cheeks and knew it wasn’t the alcohol. “And I worry about you, okay? You’re in a dangerous line of work and half the time I don’t know where you are or if you’re okay, and I’d feel better knowing you had someplace safe to go home to and I’d like it to be with me.”

  Presley wiped his mouth delicately with a paper napkin. I pushed away from the table to get more wine. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to guilt you into—”

  “Mordecai.”

  “Really, just forget I said—”

  “I’d be honored.”

  I dropped my wine glass. Presley stood. “Don’t move. I’ll get a broom.”

  He swept up the shards from around my socked feet, my eyes glued to him the entire time. Even when he’d set the dustpan on the counter and given me the okay I still didn’t move. His lips quirked.

  “If you’re going to stand there all night you should at least turn to face the television. I know I’m strikingly attractive, but if you look at me too long you’ll notice my right eye is slightly higher than my left.”

  “You mean it?” I whispered.

  “Of course. See how this eye—”

  “Presley.”

  He lost the teasing edge but not his smile. “I mean it, Mordecai. I would love to be your roommate. Or cathedral-mate, as the case may be.” He stepped closer. “I’m going to hug you now, if that’s okay. Is it okay?”

  A smile spread across my face as I put my arms around him. “You don’t need permission anymore, kid.”

  “Good. That was getting tedious.”

  “Do you want to stay tonight? I could help you move tomorrow, if you want. Or whenever.”

  “I don’t think that’s a wise idea. You shouldn’t come around the place I’ve been staying. That familiar face and all.”

  “You can use my car.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Will you stay tonight?”

  He let me go. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

  We took our time cleaning up the kitchen, then found a bad TV movie to watch until it was late enough to sleep. We went up into the loft together. I hovered awkwardly as Presley unfolded the futon and draped it with a blanket.

  “I’ll get you a bed,” I blurted. “And a dresser. Anything you need. Just ask.”

  “I’ve always been partial to wardrobes,” he said. “I keep hoping I’ll find a magical land.”

  “I’ll build you one.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, and I blinked fast so I wouldn’t cry. He crossed the room and hugged me again. I pressed my face against his neck.

  “I’m just really glad you’re here,” I whispered. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

  “This is special for me too,” he murmured. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

  “I just want you to be safe.”

  “I know.”

  “Good night,” I said, the words sounding foreign.

  He placed a kiss against my temple. “Good night.”

  “You’ll be here in the morning?”

  “I promise.”

  I SNAPPED awake and was on my feet in an instant, panic surging in my veins. I scrambled for the door without knowing why, tripping, falling, catching the knob and managing to right myself. It came again, the sound that woke me. Someone screaming my name.

  I threw open my door and ran straight into Presley. I seized him by the shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he said. “It’s—”

  “MORDECAI! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!”

  Paddy. I put a hand to my heaving chest like a society lady. “Jesus Christ. What’s he doing?”

  Presley shrugged, looking amused. I hurried past him into the foyer. Paddy hulked in the doorway, his face beet red and his hands curled into fists. He glared at me, pulsating with rage. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  I stared at him, confused. Presley said, “If we’d known you were coming we would have gotten dressed.”

  He was shirtless, I realized, wearing only his boxers, and I wasn’t wearing much more. Presley caught my eye and winked. I bit back a smile. I extended my hand to Presley and he took it, moving behind me, folding his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. I gazed innocently at Paddy. “What’s wrong? You don’t approve?”

  Paddy worked his jaw soundlessly, too angry to speak. Presley turned to face me, clasping my hands in despair. “I told you they wouldn’t like it, darling. You’re a career woman and I’m just a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. How could I ever deserve the likes of you?”

  “Oh, don’t say that, please!” I cried. “They just don’t understand how we feel about each other! But we’ll show them! We’ll show everyone!”

  I threw my arms around Presley’s neck and he dipped me back as if to kiss me. Paddy let out a roar, jerking forward violently but never crossing the threshold of the church. I couldn’t do it. I collapsed to the floor and howled with laughter.

  “Your face,” I gasped. “Oh God, Paddy, you should see—”

  Presley snickered, and that set me off all over again. I couldn’t breathe and my stomach hurt and I was crying, but it felt so good I couldn’t stop.

  Finally I managed to stand up without doubling over again. Very deliberately, Paddy stepped back from the doorway, and I gestured for Presley to follow me outside. Paddy gave us a wide berth as we passed.

  “Sorry, Paddy,” I said. “That was rude.”

  “No goddamn shit.”

  “I’m sorry. Really. But Jesus, you should’ve seen your face.”

  He glared at me from the top of the steps. I smiled back. “So you remember him.”

  “The hooker from that goddamn motel.”

  “His name’s Presley.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Presley said.

  Paddy glowered. “Shut up.” He sat down on the steps, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Fuck, Mordecai. What the hell are you doing?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I said. “We were just messing with you. We’re friends is all. Roommates now, actually.”

  “Fuck.”

  “We don’t do any of that, if that’s what concerns you,” Presley said. “Mordecai’s not my type.”

  “Like that’ll matter when you’re—”

  “He’s gay,” I interrupted. “And he’s kind and fun and he’s a great cook and he’s my friend. That’s all you need to know.”

  Paddy’s eyes raked over Presley, top to bottom. He stood and loomed menacingly over him. “Then here’s what you need to know. You hurt her and I hurt you. We understand each other?”

  “Perfectly,” Presley said. “Though I don’t anticipate giving you cause to follow through.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to show you. Would you like to stay for breakfast?”

  “Breakfast with you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You gonna cook?”

  “How do you feel about steak and eggs?”

  “He loves them,�
�� I said. I stepped between them, pushing Presley toward the front door and Paddy toward the gate. “We’ll eat on the deck. We’ve even got pineapple.”

  “If you think breakfast’s gonna win me over—”

  “It’s a place to start,” Presley said.

  Paddy’s eyes narrowed dangerously but he headed for the backyard.

  “I’ll make coffee!” I called as he disappeared. I followed Presley back inside the church.

  “He takes his black, doesn’t he?” Presley said.

  I smiled. “Two sugars. Still dark, but a lot sweeter than you’d think.”

  “Is that a metaphor?”

  “Go make your eggs.”

  June

  RAIN TRICKLED down lilies three days in the ground, leaving glossy trails on the pure cashmere white. Deep red snapdragons bowed and flexed in the breeze, tapered grasses fluttering behind them. The front row was a mixture of orange and yellow begonias, their waxy leaves pooling in the gentle shower.

  My eyes pooled like the begonia leaves, filling up and spilling over, only to do it all again. The rainwater would cultivate the flowers. With every tear that fell I wilted a little more.

  Paddy stood next to me, my friends one after the other in a silent, solemn line. There wasn’t anything to say. There was just an empty place beside me that throbbed with every breath, and lilies in a garden.

  38

  October

  “CAN YOU tell me what happened?” Tish asked gently. “I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”

  “No one understands,” I muttered.

  “You know what I mean, honey. What set you off?”

  I looked at my fingers, flexed them, thought about how Paulo Rivera would never straighten his again. I curled mine into a fist. “He said Max was an idiot. That he deserved to die.”

  “So you punched him in the face and broke his hand with a beer pitcher.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were on duty, Mordecai.”

  “He was drunk and disorderly and I used necessary force to subdue him. You can ask Paddy.”

  “I did. We both know he’s covering for you.”