“Oh, this silly thing?” Denver blushed right back at me. “It’s just stupid. A silly tradition. We do it every year. Not a big deal.”
“Yeah, but, almost everyone else has one,” I pointed, pronouncing my out of placeness.
“Huh! Yeah! I can see that. Well, no problem, Dexx. Your name also starts with a D. So . . . I’ll go dig up another one in Declan’s room. He doesn’t mind if you borrow his clothes. Like I told you, he would give you the shirt off his back, or in this case, the sweater off his back.”
“Right! I’ve seen that. I’d rather he stay clothed right now. No need to run around bare- chested in front of the family. But, if he has a spare, I’ll take it.”
“Okay, sure. Be right back!”
Denver zipped off to locate me a D sweater. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to fit in with the Davies so badly. That wasn’t like me. I never cared about fitting in. I was the ‘individual’ type. The ‘do my own thing, and not care what others thought’ person. I was the ‘non-judgmental acceptor of all walks of life’ guy.
But, I did want to fit in with them, desperately, accepted and loved by them. Poppy got the memo, being an honorary part of the family. I slinked into the hall to divert any attention I might attract by standing out.
“There you are, Dexx. Here you go.”
Denver handed me a cream-colored wool sweater with a large black D. I pulled it over my head, and smiled. I was like them. I was like a part of the family.
The sweater had a faint cologne smell, but nothing offensive. Kind of fresh and sweet, unlike the scent coming from the teeny bop store. This had more of a mature, and expensive note.
“Shall we?” I said to Denver.
She nodded.
I held out my hands politely for her to go first. Feeling good about fitting in, I could now enjoy my breakfast.
Chapter 24
Denver
Dexx didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who felt concerned about fitting in. As nice as he’d been to me lately at school, I was shocked he had accepted my invitation to join us for Christmas in the first place. Shocked, but extremely happy.
The year of Denver. This is the year of Denver. This is my year! I repeated to myself as I went to look for one of Declan’s D sweaters.
Perhaps my dreamful wishes were coming true. I had a boy downstairs, waiting for me. This was finally my Christmas to remember. And with all my insecurities road-blocking my confidence, it was about time to shove them out of the way, and enjoy my guest. A boy. One who asked to spend time with me, in a sweater, a stupid Christmas sweater, on Christmas. Finally. This holiday was turning out better than I expected, even after I confronted him about my past. About Declan.
Even after I faced Dexx, and told him the truth. He took it so well. He still wanted to hang out with me. Me! In my room!
I giggled uncontrollably. I bashed open Declan’s door. I launched myself onto his carefully made bed, and bounced up and down for joy! Wrinkling his careful creases, and foiling his folds, the pillows collapsed under my frantic feet.
“He likes me!” I sang in between jumps.
I bounced off Declan’s bed, leaving him a Christmas mess to get mad at me for later. I ripped open a drawer. I tossed several sweaters into the air. They landed in strewn balls on the floor. I searched until I located an old creamy knit sweater.
“Gotcha!” I squealed and ran back down stairs to find Dexx.
I looked around the family room. People sat in comfortably clusters. Munching and chatting. Several relatives approached me with hugs, and kisses, wishing me a Merry Christmas. I didn’t mean to brush them off, but my wishes probably sounded disingenuous. I searched the crowd. My morning high crashed, my stomach plummeted to the floor. Where could Dexx have gone? Why did he ask me for a sweater then run away from me? I tossed my hands in the air, miffed.
I retreated into the hallway only to find Dexx hiding in the dark shadows. My heart burst with excitement, exploding out of my chest. Now why did I think he’d have me fetch him a sweater only to abandon me? I pushed such silly notions down in the recesses of my stupidness.
“There you are, Dexx,” I chuckled at my overactive imagination. “Here you go.” I handed him the sweater.
Dexx took the sweater from my hands, and pulled it over his head. His face shone so handsome. Dark hair flopped to one side of his face. He shot me that adorable sneer he gave all of the girls at school. The one that said I know how hot I am, and I know you agree. Chills shot down my spine to my toes. He wore Christmas well.
“Shall we?” he asked.
I near fainted with excitement. Declan wasn’t the only one with an adorable guest to snuggle up to on Christmas morning.
Dexx held out his hands, ushering me in front of him. We both grabbed plates. I plucked a couple strips of bacon off the tray, and plopped a waffle on top. I slathered on a heap of butter, and drown the food in hot syrup. Before I could make my way to a seat, I scooped a ginormous lump into my mouth. Under the buttery syrup, I detected a slight hint of orange zest in the waffle. My parents did breakfast awesome.
“Mmm, dewishiousness!” I garbled through my chomp. “Oops.” A bit of food flew out of my lips. “Sowwy,” I apologized, and held my mouth closed with my hand to finish chewing.
Dexx just laughed, and did the same. He took a bite, and nodded.
“You’re right. This is good. How do your parents do it?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Simply perfect, I guess.”
My statement saddened me. Simply perfect, I guess. Something I could hardly measure up to, and never achieve. Even Declan, with his endless list of disabilities, out-perfected me. I dug into my breakfast, a lost cause.
Poppy and Declan sat outside on the deck near the fire pit. Poppy waved us over. Dexx’s face lit up, and jumped at the chance to join them.
“Come on,” he said, “looks fun.”
We climbed outside into the prickly chill. Declan and Poppy had wrapped a large flannel blanket around their shoulders. They sat close, cuddling together. Poppy gulped down a mountain of food topped with gravy. Declan pushed fruit around his plate with a fork, all the while keeping his head turned toward his girlfriend, drooling like a dumb baby.
I opened up the wooden supply box, and tossed out a couple blankets for Dexx and me. We hunkered down on a couch opposite of the two ‘love crows.’ I sat cross-legged on the cushion. Dexx slid in next to me. I wrapped myself in the blanket to keep warm. He copied me. He smiled as he breathed out of his nose. Smoke poured from his nostrils, my DJ dragon. It was supes endearing.
“So, hey, guys, Merry Christmas to you,” Dexx addressed the smote couple.
“M-M-M-e-e-e-rry C-C-C-C-Christmas b-b-b-a-a-a-ck,” Declan managed. He grinned. With his free hand he snatched Poppy by the back of her head, and placed his forehead on hers. He rubbed her nose with his red honker.
M-m-m shut up! I thought, and slunk further back on the couch. What a show off!
“Guys. Hey guys!” my little cousin, Peter, Dancer by his side, stuck his face outside the door. “It’s almost time! Come on!”
Peter jumped up and down, all sugared up, and ready to rip into his pile of presents. He ran back inside, but doubled back once he realized no one was following him. Dancer ran in dizzying circles, unsure which direction his new friend meant to go. He played ring-around-the-rosy, allowing his frantic tail to point the way.
“Declan, come on! Get up! It’s time,” Peter yelled back at his best buddy.
It was almost adorable how taken Peter was with Declan. I imagined it was because they shared the same IQ. Wait, nope, Peter’s was higher. They shared the same maturity level. I grinned to myself at the thought.
“O-O-O-kay, P-P-P-e-e-e-ter, I-I-I’m g-g-g-e-e-e-tting u-u-u-p,” Declan chuckled back at our cousin. His hands
shook from the excitement of receiving gifts.
I snorted.
“W-W-W-What a-a-a-r-r-re ya-ya-ou l-l-l-o-o-o-king a-a-a-t?” Declan growled at me.
“Nothing,” I groaned.
Declan stood up, and rubbed his hands together. As he was about to take off, Poppy pulled him back down, and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and whispered something back. Then, he trotted off to find little Peter.
No fair, I thought, bitter, no secrets allowed!
I took a couple more bites of my breakfast.
Turning to Dexx I said, “We should probably go back in. What’s Christmas without presents? You can take your food with you, but save some room for lunch.”
“There’s more?” Dexx asked, flabbergasted.
“It’s the Davies family tradition. There is always more!”
We all sat around, kids on the floor near the tree, adults seated on the couches and chairs. I scooted myself into the circle of children. Declan already found a spot near the tree with Peter nestled in his lap, Dancer next them, sitting up proud next to his dearest buddies. Poppy climbed over a couple kids to accompany him. Dexx joined the young crowd. He sat next to me. His body pressed into my side. Chills ran through my back. I shivered with anticipation, perhaps for the opening of the presents, perhaps from the opening of a relationship. I hoped for the latter. But as much as I wanted to remain cool and composed, I loved presents. I wondered if Dexx got me anything.
My parents moved toward the front of the room. They stood in front of the mantel to address their guests.
“Merry Christmas!” my dad started. “Yes, I do have an eager group of children who want to tear into the gifts, so, I’ll make this brief.”
About fifteen or so of my little cousins squirmed around on the floor, unable to control their eager bodies.
“Tomorrow,” my dad continued, “the Davies family will be spending some time delivering food to the local food bank. All are welcome to join us. But, during the season of giving, I understand there is also joy in receiving. With that being said, let’s share in the festivities of opening gifts. Ho! Ho! Ho! Presents, here we go!”
With his last words, the insane wrapping-ripping extravaganza exploded into a full force of feral children hunting for that mythical happiness in a box. They found it! Screams of happiness blasted around the room like unpredictable geysers shooting out spurts of “Thank you so muches” and “I love you, Moms and Dads” or even “Davies family, you are the bests!”
I tapped Dexx on the shoulder. He turned, and faced me with a bright smile plastered over his face from observing the energetic children in all of their gift getting glory.
“Here,” I said shyly. “I got you a little something.”
I handed him a small black bag with a skull wearing headphones. When I spotted the bag at the mall, I found it so fitting. White tissue paper with black musical notes filled the inside of the bag. Dexx grinned.
“I’m sorry, Denver, I didn’t buy you anything,” he said.
“That’s okay.” A wave of disappointment crashed over me.
“But . . . I made you something.”
“Really?” Then the wave receded back into the sea.
“Yep. I planned on giving it to you later, in private.”
My heart beat crazy dreamful in my chest. Dexx made me something? I couldn’t believe it! For me? This was the best Christmas ever!
Dexx stuffed his hand down the bag, and pulled out a couple gift cards. He inspected them carefully.
“They are for the coffee kiosk, and the grill, where we had our first da-a- . . . um . . . m-meet up, uh . . . that time we ate together, at the mall. Remember? I thought it would be kinda symbolic, um, special.”
“It was . . . is . . . special . . . thanks so much, Denver.” Dexx patted me awkwardly on the shoulder.
A grimace slowly formed on my face, disappointed. I had expected a more thankful response, like a hug. But, maybe he wanted to do that in private when he revealed his surprise. So, I decided to opt for, “I can’t wait to see what you made me, later!”
Clenching my fists, I opened my mouth with a wide, excited expression plastered across my face.
My parents carefully stepped around the room. They handed out packages, big and small, to our guests. They reserved our gifts for last, explaining that we must tend to our guests first before we opened our own presents.
They reached Poppy first, and handed her a box the size of a microwave. She shredded the paper, and pulled out a fresh, new lip-gloss and lipstick set. Tubes of every color lined up and down a sparkly, frilly makeup box. She stood up, and danced to a tune inside her head, and hugged my parents. After all of these years, they knew her so well I could practically vomit.
Next, they handed Declan a box equal in size to Poppy’s. He ripped it open with his strong fingers. He pulled out some 75th year anniversary Batman paraphernalia. His hands flapped. His fingers wiggled. Declan stammered something, and continued to search his box. DVD sets. Action figures. Signed comic books tenderly wrapped in plastic. He ogled his endless supply of gifts.
Even Dancer got a gift box. Peter helped pull out a green plastic football, and bag of gourmet bones wrapped in cellophane, and a knit sweater with a large D fit for a growing puppy.
I sat patiently in a pile of discarded paper and ribbons. Litter piled up around me, lost in a mountain of garbage, and junk. My parents seemed to have forgotten me, again. They walked the other way toward Peter and his sister who played ball with Dancer, and fed him his new treats. I wasn’t even best for last. I wasn’t even last. I just wasn’t. With my nerves rattled and on edge, they doubled back and handed me a box.
“Merry Christmas,” my parents chanted in unison.
I smiled politely, and took the package. I ripped off the paper gingerly until I finally revealed a picture of an expensive camera on the box with a note taped to it. It said, “With an eye like yours, you belong behind the camera instead of in front of it. Love Mom & Dad.”
Tears dripped out of my eyes. I couldn’t believe it! My own parents felt I wasn’t beautiful enough to be in front of the camera. I knew it! I knew I could never measure up to Declan, and all of his aesthetic glory. And now, this gift proved it! He was the swan, and I . . . well, I was the ugly duckling, never to transform into anything more than a cooked goose, stewing in its juices, ignored and alone.
Tears rained down my cheeks, an avalanche of water. Crashing, non-stop, down my neck, sludge gathered at my collarbone.
“Excuse me,” I wailed, and ran away.
Tears burned my vision. I choked, and gasped. My chest shook as my sorrow built into a full-fledged tearful meltdown. Snot poured from my nose, and combined with my tears. The salty goo slid down my throat. I stumbled into the wall, and collapsed on the stairs. I laid my head into the crook of my arm and cried.
I cried because Declan was my brother. I cried because my parents loved me the least. I cried because people weren’t nice to me. I cried because people taunted me, or flat out ignored me. I cried because I was me, and I couldn’t get away from myself. At that moment, I disliked myself. Denver, the underdog.
The floor creaked. Light footsteps pounded under the person who pursued me out of the room. Dare I guess who cared enough to check in on me? Or was I about to receive a scolding for lashing out and ruining Christmas?
“Denver! Denver! Denver?” Mom called.
I curled up my body into a fetal position in the corner of the steps, in the darkness, hiding.
“Oh, Denver, where did you go?” she cried.
I slumped my limp body against the wall, humiliated.
“Denver!” She found me. “Denver, what’s wrong? Why did you leave?”
She caught a glimpse of my teary eyes.
“Denver?” she asked more w
orrisome than usual. “What’s wrong? Are you crying? What happened in there?”
“You think I’m ugly!” I blurted out. Hot saliva dropped from my lips. Fresh tears fell down my cheeks. At the moment, I looked ugly, but I could care less.
“Oh, baby, my baby. Is that what you think?”
“Why else would you give me that camera? Write me that note?”
“Baby, my beautiful baby,” Mom sobbed. “Come here.”
She collected me in her arms, and held me tight. She rocked me back and forth the way she did when I was a small child. I sighed. The soothing motion helped calm me down.
“There, there,” Mom comforted me. “I didn’t buy you that camera because you are ugly. I bought it for you because you are extraordinarily beautiful, inside and out. I bought it for you because your talents expand beyond a cute face, or a pretty girl in a photograph.”
“But, Declan belongs in front of a camera.”
“You are not Declan. And, you should never compare yourself to him. You are both so special, and so unique. But, you don’t need to try to compete, or be like him. You are beautiful, Denver. So, so beautiful. I think you could look in a mirror, and figure that out for yourself. But, you sell yourself short. You see Declan’s successful career, and you stop there. You stop thinking beyond that path. You hold yourself back from your true potential.”
I coughed, and snorted up some dripping snot.
“You have an eye.” My mom smoothed out the hair on top of my head. “A beautiful eye for detail. You have a unique perspective. You understand how the world works. Don’t you think it’s time to stop trying to be Declan and start trying to be Denver? Huh?”
I gave her a half nod.
“There is an entire world out there waiting to see what Denver can do. See how talented Denver is. I thought it was time to try something new. I trust you. I trust your judgment. Try it. Just see what happens when you try to be Denver. Take a few pictures. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll return the camera. But, Denver, I think it fits. It fits you. You have an eye, an eye for beautiful detail, because you are beautiful, and I love you.”
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