The Problem With Mistletoe

by Kyle Baxter

  The boy held up a bundle of tinsel garland for Alex’s approval. “What do you think of this?”

  Alex regarded it. “That’s fun, but for the party we should go more old-fashioned. Look for holly garland.”

  “What’s holly?” Eric asked, and Alex pointed at a strand. The boy eyed it. “It looks like mistletoe.”

  Alex grabbed a sprig of plastic mistletoe and held it up. “It does, but mistletoe has white berries, whereas holly has red, see?”

  “Cool.” Eric gleefully tossed several packages of garland in the cart. “Should we get mistletoe too?”

  “No, I hate missile toe,” he said sharply.

  The boy’s eyes went wide. “Why?”

  “‘Mistletoe is deadly if you eat it . . .’” But a kiss is deadlier if you mean it. At a look from the boy, he said, “It’s another movie quote.”

  Eric eyed him carefully. “Should we be getting all this now? You’re changing the space.”

  “Well, we know approximately how many people are attending—or at least invited.” Reaching across the aisle, Alex snagged several boxes of twinkly lights. “So, the space will have to be a certain size to accommodate everyone, but at the same time not too large that it looks empty. That gives us an idea of how much decorating we have to do. And we can get a lot of things out of the way. I mean, some things we know we need, like garland and lights.”

  “Like a tree?”

  “Exactly,” Alex agreed.

  “If you want a real tree, there’s a Christmas tree lot near my house.”

  Alex gave him a wink. “I love real trees.”

  Glancing around, the boy tugged on Alex’s sleeve. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Can you hold it until your dad gets back?” he asked. The boy shook his head and looked a little panicked. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Alex took his hand, and they walked toward the back of the store with their cart.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be any trouble.” Eric’s shoulders drooped.

  “Buddy, you are not trouble.” Alex squeezed his hand. The boy stared up at him intently. Why would Eric think that?

  As they passed the food court, he noticed a group of young boys. Close to Eric’s age, they whispered and pointed at Eric and at him.

  “You know them?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah . . .” Eric held his hand tighter.

  He felt the boy trembling, and behind him he heard sniggering laughter. Bullies.

  When their business was completed, they pushed the cart to the electronics department.

  “Aren’t we going back to the Christmas supplies?” Eric took his hand again.

  He gave the boy a conspiratorial look. “Later. I want to check out some video games now.”

  Eric punched the air. “Yes!”

  They spent a good half an hour playing games, testing consoles, and comparing notes on what they liked and which games all the kids were playing. They were deep in co-op mode on a game when Alex looked, checking to make sure no one was near them.

  “Those boys, they seem to cause you consternation.” When Mini Coop stared at him blankly, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

  Eric mumbled, “Sometimes.”

  “Do you tell anyone?” He saw the tension in his face.

  The boy looked at him in fear. “Please, don’t say anything.”

  Alex understood that reaction. He could never tell his father, either. Emil Capili would only yell at him. It wasn’t an easy thing; standing up for yourself could be hard. “Eric, he’s your dad. I can’t—”

  “Please, my dad worries about me enough,” Eric begged, his eyes watering.

  It pulled at his heart. “Okay . . . but that is his job.” Recognizing the boy wanted nothing more than to please his father and not be a burden cut him to the core. Eric needed help. Could he not help him? He took out his wallet, retrieved a business card and handed it to him. “Here, this is my number. You can call me anytime.”

  Staring at the card, the boy finally slid it into his back pocket.

  When they finished the demo of the game, they returned to the Christmas section. David and Bonnie waited for them, munching on popcorn.

  “Hey, where’d you two run off to?” David handed his bag to Eric.

  “Bathroom.” The boy shared the popcorn with Alex.

  “Everything come out all right?”

  Alex nudged Eric. “That’s a dad joke.”

  “Thank you.” The elder Cooper grinned, his eyes twinkling.

  Disliking the smug tone in his friend’s voice, he took to picking through David’s cart. He’d examine an item, then toss it back haphazardly.

  Reaching over, David batted him away. “Hey, hands off, nosy.”

  Alex snagged a twelve-pack of boxer shorts, and held it up. “The David Cooper I knew in high school would never debase himself by wearing an off-brand.”

  “Age and being a father’s mellowed me.” A flush rose in David’s cheeks and he snagged the package back. “You’ve gone in the opposite direction. That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing, and a nice scarf.”

  He adjusted the pashmina. “Thank you.”

  “Both expensive and both black. Did you have that shirt fitted? It’s very New York City.” David raised his eyebrows.

  “Was that a remark?” His smile faded.

  David grabbed a handful of popcorn from his son and munched on it. “It’s an observation.” With a smirk, he pushed his cart toward the checkout stands. Eric stared at his father, then narrowed his eyes at Alex before following.

  While in the queue for the exit, his smartphone beeped with another text. Alex frowned as he read it.

  “I know that face.”

  “What face?” His fingers danced over the screen as he fired off a text and opened the mail app.

  “It’s your worried face. Is everything okay in NYC?” David overenunciated the initials.

  He rubbed his eyes. “There may be problems with a client. I forwarded the emails to Enrico.”

  “I hear his name a lot.”

  “He’s a good guy.” Alex felt a little defensive and wasn’t sure why. “I’d be lost without him.” David’s own phone rang, and Alex smirked.

  “Don’t,” the elder Cooper warned as he pulled out the offending device.

  “Aren’t you on vacation?” He mocked David’s earlier comment. “Is everything okay at EMC?” Like his friend, he overenunciated the initials.

  “Smart Alec,” David jibed with the old nickname.

  Leaning over, Alex whispered to Eric, but loud enough for his father’s ears, “I bet you it’s Zooey.”

  That made both Eric and Bonnie titter.

  David answered the call in a frosty tone. “Hey, Zooey.” He stiffened at the peal of laughter that generated. “No, not a good time. Yes, I’ll call you later.”

  “She likes dad,” Eric said.

  “Poor Coop, the girls always liked him. Some of the boys, too,” he finished in a deep voice.

  “She does not like me. You’re being ridiculous,” David protested, though his voice sounded far from certain.

  “‘You want the truth?’” Alex’s face contorted in mock rage. “‘You can’t handle the truth.’”

  David gave him a dirty look. “That’s not the correct quote and you know it.”

  “I hope we got everything.” Bonnie stared at her overflowing cart.

  Peering over her shoulder, David said, “‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat.’”

  She groaned. “I forgot how tiresome you two were.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Smalltown Boy

  Leaving the checkout area, Alex spied an older worker checking receipts and examining the baskets at the exit. Cheerful and playful, the man spent a moment talking with each customer.

  “Is that Mr. Perkins, our English teacher?” he asked. “Why is he here?”

  “His pension isn’t enough to make ends meet. He works here part-time,” Bonnie said. They watched as
the man teased a little girl who giggled. “The kids love him.”

  “We always did,” David agreed.

  Alex pulled on his peacoat, took a deep breath, and readied himself as they approached. Bonnie was the first to reach him.

  “Hello, my dear.” The older man gave her a peck on the cheek.

  She responded with a hug. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  Turning to see Alex, David, and Eric, Mr. Perkins stepped back. “My word.”

  Alex held out his hand to shake. “Hello, sir.”

  Mr. Perkins pulled him into a hug. Then, pushing him to arm’s length, he inspected him. “Still so handsome,” he said, making him turn beet red. “And it’s David and little Eric.”

  The boy groaned. “I’m not little.”

  He booped Eric’s nose. “No, you’re certainly not.” Turning to Alex and David, he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “My dynamic duo, still together, I see.”

  “We’re not—”

  “How is your writing?” The older man tapped his shoulder.

  Alex looked away. “It’s going. I’ve produced several of my plays, off-Broadway. Well, off-off-way-off-Broadway . . .”

  “That is grand.” Mr. Perkins puffed out his chest.

  David leaned in. “He wrote a gender-flipped update of Much Ado About Nothing. Made Beatrice and Benedict, two men.”

  Alex turned to him. “How did you know that?”

  Mr. Perkins put his hand to his chin. “That is perfect, isn’t it? That works.” He bent back down to Eric. “I have something for you, big man. Here’s a lollipop.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!”

  The edge of the older man’s mouth curved into a smile. “He has your eyes.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Thank you, sir.” Grabbing his arm, David led him away, saying, “See you next week!”

  Once they were out of earshot, Alex leaned close to Bonnie. “Is he okay?”

  “He has his good days and bad.” She avoided his gaze. “His wife passed away a few years ago. The medical bills wiped them out.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Mr. Perkins’ situation hung heavy on his mind. Losing someone you loved was tough, he remembered, thinking of his own mother.

  He helped Bonnie load up her car while David and Eric loaded theirs.

  “Later!” David said as he helped settle Eric in.

  “Bye, Alex.” The boy waved.

  “Have a good afternoon.” He waved as they drove off. After he set the last box in Bonnie’s trunk, he closed it. “I’ll meet you at your place and help you unload.”

  Her face hardened. “I’m fine. You get the Christmas supplies over to the restaurant. You can store them upstairs in the empty dining room. I’ll bring the rest when I come to work.”

  “But—”

  “I can manage.” She walked to the driver’s side. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Sorry . . .”

  Taking a deep breath, Bonnie looked at him over the top of her car. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so sharply.”

  Alex held his hands out. “What did I do wrong?”

  She stared at him like he was insane. “Everything.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up.”

  “It is everything, all this.” She waved her hands. “It’s just like it was back in the day.”

  He leaned against his truck. “And that’s bad?”

  “You left. We went on with our lives.” Bonnie jabbed a finger at him. “You can’t come back and act like it’s all good, running around the restaurant like you never left. And now you’re laughing and quoting movies with David Cooper?”

  Bouncing off the truck, he pointed toward town. “What am I supposed to do, mope around and wear a hair shirt?”

  She came back around her car. “You could act like you’re sorry you left. You were my friend, and you ran out on me.”

  “I had to leave.” He looked at the ground. “You know what it was like living with my father.”

  “I do.” She deflated. “I get it. More than probably anyone else in town, more than even David. I get it. Is that why you ran away?”

  He kicked at the slush on the pavement. “That’s part of it.”

  Bonnie stood in front of him, arms folded. “Then what else? We were friends. You owe me an explanation.”

  With a grumble, he turned around in place. “The last Christmas I was here . . . I made a pass at David.” With a wince, he ran a hand through his mop of unruly hair.

  “What?” She was wide-eyed. “I haven’t heard this. What happened?”

  He turned back to her, holding his arms out wide. “We aren’t together. What do you think happened? He pushed me away and told me he didn’t like me like that.”

  She put her hand to her forehead. “So what, you ran away, because a boy didn’t like you?”

  “No, it wasn’t just David. It was everything: him, my dad, my mom, everything. David was going to college out of town. You were following the next year and I was going nowhere.”

  Pulling out her key ring, she played with it absently. “That’s not how it was.”

  He snorted “That’s exactly how it was.” An elderly couple walked by and ogled them. He waved and waited until they were out of earshot. “I didn’t want to become my dad, all alone and the town drunk. If Mama and Papa hadn’t looked out for him he’d have lost everything.”

  Taking a deep breath, her head bowed. “So why did you leave like that? Without a word to anyone?”

  His face scrunched up and he blushed. “Spur of the moment?”

  “You’re such a drama queen.” She gave him a lopsided smirk.

  “Guilty as charged. But if I hadn’t left like that, you all would’ve tried to talk me out of it.”

  She nodded. “Especially, Mama and Papa, and David.”

  Alex looked at the ground. “No, David didn’t care.”

  “How can you say that?” She gave him a dirty look. “He was your best friend.”

  “Then how come he never reached out to me?” He felt heat rise behind his eyes. “Neither did you. I wasn’t in hiding.”

  Bonnie recoiled. He half-expected her to leave, but after a moment she looked up at him. “I thought about it, for a long time. I was worried . . . scared for you, but Mama told me where you’d turned up. And I thought, ‘Good, he’ll be happy there.’ You always wanted to move to the big city.”

  He grunted and looked around. A couple with their two children walked by, smiled, and waved. He returned the wave and asked Bonnie, “Who were they?”

  “Bitsy Carmichael and Jack Ryan. They were in my year.”

  “They got married? Huh.” He shook his head. “Does everyone come here?”

  “Pert near.” Bonnie kicked one of the tires of her car.

  Alex laughed. “There’s that West Virginia hillbilly gal.” He took a long breath and exhaled. “I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Are you happy in New York?”

  He considered that for a moment. It was a loaded question. “I was.” He stuffed his hands in his peacoat. “Are we okay?”

  Bonnie waggled her hand. “Eh, we’re getting there. It hurt when you left, and you’ve been gone a long time . . .” She walked around the car. “It’s fucking cold out here. I’ll see you at the restaurant later?”

  “I do live there—at the moment.” He hugged himself.

  She looked at him over the top of the car. “You know, Mama’s not going to stand for that long.”

  “I do.” He was a little surprised she hadn’t thrown him out yet. He owned a house here. Staying in the attic at the restaurant was unnecessary.

  “See you later.” She slid into her car.

  Teeth chattering, he gave her a little wave, watching as she drove off. He climbed into his truck and turned the heat and the radio up. As he drove back through town, his mind raced with everything they discussed. He needed to talk to David.

  H
e parked in front of his dad’s house and climbed out. He grabbed the big package of paper towels from the back and plodded up the walk to the front door.

  Fumbling for the keys, he readied himself. Just do it, he repeated over and over as he turned the key and the door swung open.

  Cold wind blew in, making the sheets that covered the living room furniture rustle. He dropped the package of towels at the door and made a quick inspection of the ground floor. It needed work.

  Back in the living room, he halted. Alex could almost see his father drunk on the couch, angry and yelling at him.

  Let’s have no more of that, he thought. Instead, he focused on a happy memory: his mother’s laughter. He missed that sound. Standing there, he thought of her baking and the smells that drifted through the house, apple and cinnamon especially.

  It didn’t last long. Images of her drawn face lying on her sickbed intruded. Alex backed out of the building and locked the door. Standing on the stoop, he took deep breaths to calm himself.

  Lame, he chided himself.

  When he was back in the cab of the truck, his fingers flew over his smartphone, making notes on repairs the house needed. Ruminating on the old salt “you can’t go home again,” he wondered if it ought to be “you shouldn’t.”

  The talk with Bonnie went as well as could be expected, but he felt like a bull in a china shop, charging through people’s lives and leaving wreckage in his wake. Just like my father.

  His shoulders slumped with the guilt. It hung heavy over him for years and now it was coming home to roost. He did what he had to do when he left. It wasn’t easy, but at the time, he thought he had no choice. No, you’re an asshole—just like dad.

  He sat for a long minute on the verge of tears. Finally, he put his phone in its cradle on the dashboard and drove toward the dog shelter.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Time After Time

  Surveying each building as they drove home, David hoped something would jump out at him, that some building would call to him, saying, Yes, this is it! This is the place!

  Finding the perfect venue might be a pipe dream, but the morning’s outing at the SuperStore with his friends left him optimistic. It had been years since they were all together.