The Problem With Mistletoe

by Kyle Baxter

  “Yeah, I hate to ask, but can you pick up the Mini Coop again?”

  “Not a problem. I’m only a few blocks away and the work here can go on without me.” This earned Alex a thumbs-up from one of the contractors. “I’ve got errands to run. I’ll take him with me.”

  “Good. Eric wants to see you anyway. He misses you.” David’s voice was soft.

  Alex wasn’t sure he was talking about Eric or only about Eric.

  “Okay.” David shook it off. “Thank you. I’ll be home in a bit.”

  “See you soon,” Alex said.

  He arrived at the school to find no sign of Eric. Alex checked his watch. He was half an hour early. Ugh. He eyed the stone benches the kids sat on, cold and uninviting. He’d rather stand.

  Mr. Bowers, the administrator, came outside and gave him a hearty handshake. “You’re early.” The man towered over him. He must be an awe-inspiring sight to the kids. “Do you want to come inside?” He pointed to the wooden double doors.

  “Yes, thank you.” Alex brushed the snow off his cap before stuffing it in a pocket and followed him in.

  He paced back and forth for a bit, then finally sat on a bench. What am I doing? He was getting attached and there was a job and a life waiting for him back in NYC.

  And what kind of life is that? Lately, all he did was work. Things were always busy at Five Points, and when his father died, he just buried himself in his work. He hadn’t gone on a vacation in over a year and a half! And after he broke up with Todd, he dug himself in deeper.

  He’d quit acting classes. He hadn’t produced or written anything in years. When was the last time you wrote something other than a BEO? Hell, when was the last time I did anything but work?

  Only since I came back home.

  Mama was right; it was time to stop moping and time to do something. Moving into his house was a good start. The CYA felt like one too.

  The school bell rang and children streamed out of the building to the line of waiting cars. Eric sprinted up, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

  “Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you.” Alex hugged him back. Yeah, I’m already attached.

  Children swarmed past and into cars and busses. Some regarded him with interest. He assumed they knew Eric somehow. He kept an eye out for the kids from last week. The bullies.

  Brandi Wu arrived with her pink backpack, pink boots, and pink jacket. After searching around, she sat on a bench by herself. She pulled out her cellphone and started playing a game.

  Alex tugged Eric’s hand. “Let’s go sit over there. You two are friends, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Brandi raised an eyebrow as they joined her on the bench. “What are you doing?”

  “Chilling out with you,” Alex said. “Get it? Chilling?” Oh my god, I sound like David.

  Brandi only rolled her eyes. “My dad is on the way. You don’t have to hang out with me.” She held up her phone to show him a text. “See?”

  “I have no doubt you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself.” He grinned. “How come you don’t have a phone?” he asked Eric.

  “His dad doesn’t want him spending too much time on the Internet,” Brandi volunteered. “It’s like a thing with parents. They’re all worried we’ll rot our brains or something.”

  “Is that true?” Alex turned to Eric.

  “Pretty much.” Eric pulled a book out of his backpack.

  He noticed that most of the kids carried phones. In one more way it made Eric the odd one out, and that wasn’t easy. Alex decided to do something about that. If I’m getting involved, let’s get involved.

  They were soon the only ones left at school. Glancing around, he noticed Mr. Bowers keeping an eye on them from the office. He waved. Good man.

  Brandi peered over Eric’s shoulder at his book. “Dinosaurs . . . again.” Her father’s car drove up and she picked up her pink backpack. “I like dinosaurs too. Stegosaurus is my favorite.”

  Eric’s eyes went wide. “Triceratops is mine.” Both children turned to Alex.

  Suddenly he couldn’t think of a single dinosaur. “Uh . . . velociraptor, I guess?”

  “Really?” she sneered before skipping off to the waiting car. Her father waved at them as she climbed in and buckled up.

  As they drove off, he nudged the boy. “I have errands to run, but after that I think we should make Christmas cookies. You up for that?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Telephone

  Alex was unpacking the shopping bags when the house phone rang. Eric sat at the counter, working on his homework, and glanced up as he grabbed the cordless off the wall.

  “Hey,” David said.

  “Checking on us already?”

  “Hardly. I forgot to tell you something.”

  Alex cradled the phone between his face and shoulder. “Hit me.”

  “Today is my night to man the CYA help line.” There was that telltale wince in David’s voice. “Obviously I can’t do it from here. We don’t get many overnight calls, but there has to be someone to transfer it to.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “There’s about fifteen of us, so we only have to do it twice a month. Most of it is referring people to local resources or national groups like the TREVOR Project,” David said. “Can you answer the phone tonight? It’s only until I get home.”

  “The TREVOR project.” Alex recognized the name. It was a national group that helped LGBTQ+ youth. He was impressed, and though Tandi provided him with a CYA FAQ sheet, he’d only given it a cursory glance.

  David paused. “This is too much, isn’t it?”

  “It’s fine,” he snapped. “Sorry, it’s fine, honestly.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have them transfer the calls there. There’s a script in the computer desk in the living room. Follow what it says, and you’ll be fine—if you even get a call.”

  “Will do.” Alex gave a thumbs-up and Eric grinned.

  “What are you boys up to?”

  Alex leaned against the back counter. “Mini Coop is finishing his homework and then we’re going to make cookies. He said he wants to be a baker. I figured we should bake some Christmas cookies.”

  Eric applauded, jumping in his seat at the table.

  “I’ll look forward to eating some.” The smile in David’s voice was sunshine in his ear.

  “Okay, we’ll talk to you later.” Hanging up, Alex walked to the desk in the living room. He pulled the telephone script out of the drawer and set it on the desktop. Staring at the phone, he half-expected it to ring. He was a little let down when it didn’t.

  Back in the kitchen, Alex took tonight’s dinner container out of the freezer and placed it in the microwave to defrost. He thumbed open his phone, pulled up a file, and handed it to Eric.

  A line formed on the boy’s forehead. “What do you want me to do?”

  “That’s Mama’s sugar cookie recipe. You read off the ingredients and I’ll get them out.”

  Eric climbed onto his favorite barstool and slowly recited the recipe. They went to work, and in a short time, the dough was mixed.

  After they put it in the refrigerator to chill, Eric asked, “Why do you walk dogs?”

  He stared at the boy. “What?” Alex cleared the countertop and started washing their dishes.

  “The other day, in the park my dad said he remembered why you walk dogs.”

  “Oh, yeah. You have a good memory, nugget.” Alex turned to face him. “After my mom died, my dad started drinking too much. He was mean. I used to go walk dogs when it got too much for me.”

  Eric’s face clouded. “My mom drank too much. That’s why I live with my dad now.”

  “I know.” Alex kissed the top of the boy’s head. After a moment, Eric gave him a wan smile and shook it off. Alex was grateful that the serious turn in their conversation didn’t dampen his mood too much. Once the dough was ready to go, he helped him roll it out.

  “This is work.” Eric huffed and puffed.


  “Yes, it is.” He put a hand on the boy’s back. “Some bakers go to cooking school. There’s chemistry and even biology involved.”

  Eric’s eyes went wide. “In baking?”

  “Absolutely, now let’s get out the cookie cutters.”

  With glee Eric ran to the table and came back with the package of cookie-cutter shapes. They pressed the shapes into the dough and placed each piece on a cookie sheet. They put the pan in the oven, set the timer, and finished cleaning the kitchen.

  When the phone rang, they both jumped.

  #

  Alex stumbled as he raced to the computer. David told him they rarely had calls on the landline, so this had to be a CYA call.

  “Cooper Youth Association helpline. How may I assist you?” That opening left a terrible taste in his mouth. He sounded like a robot. No one responded, but he heard breathing on the other end.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” a kid replied between sniffles.

  He read from the script. “My name is Alex. Would you mind sharing yours with me?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “No, of course not.” He tried to sound nonchalant. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you gay?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He picked up the script and scanned over it. He didn’t like some of the lines. Best not to improv too much though.

  “When . . . When did you know?”

  Alex looked heavenward. “That’s hard to say. I always knew I was different. Maybe ten?” That wasn’t the half of it. He still felt different. “How old are you?”

  “I’m eleven—twelve next month.”

  Alex looked at the list of questions. They branched off after the age, but he’d jumped ahead. He backtracked up the tree. “Are you safe right now?”

  “Are you reading that?” The voice was wary.

  “Yeah, sorry, I have a list to get through. I mean, are you okay with that?” Alex heard the groan of exasperation that only a child made. “Duly noted. Okay, why don’t you tell me what’s going on. Why’d you call?”

  “I’m scared, I guess.”

  “What’s making you scared?” Pulling open a drawer, he found a notepad and pen. Probably a good idea to take notes.

  “My dad hates queers,” the kid whispered. There was a sound in the background of the call, like a chair squeaking. “I’m scared he’ll find out.”

  “I went through the same thing.” Remembering the many times he heard his dad rant about “fags,” Alex felt queasy.

  “Does it ever get better?”

  Alex stood, turning in a circle at the desk. “It does.”

  The kid groaned. “That wasn’t very convincing.”

  Already off-script, he decided to go for it. “It still sucks sometimes, y’know? It’s life. But yeah, it does get better. I had lots of bad times, but if I got through it, you can too.”

  “But what do I do?” The kid’s voice was lighter, and that gave Alex some hope.

  Sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Alex took a deep breath. “Hang on as hard as you can. Find someone to talk to, and if you can’t, then call here. Call me. Do you know Capili’s Restaurant?”

  “Is that in the Old Quarter?”

  “Call there and they can get a hold of me. Tell them you’re a friend of mine.” He’d leave a note at the restaurant. Papa and Mama wouldn’t question it. He wished Aunt Claire was here. She’d know what to say.

  “Do I have to tell them my name?” The kid didn’t sound as scared as they did before. Alex took that as a win.

  “Not unless you want to.” Alex sat and began to make notes.

  “I have to go . . .”

  “Promise me one thing?” The youngster didn’t reply, but, from the sounds of it, was still on the line. “Call again, even if you don’t talk to me. Call this number and check in every now and then, okay? Can you do that?” Please. Please. Please.

  “Okay . . .”

  After the line went dead, he dropped the receiver. His hands were shaking. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The kid sounded so alone, so scared. He remembered that feeling. He didn’t like any kid having to go through what he did.

  In a flurry, he jotted down everything that happened, details David could pass along to anyone that manned the help line. If—when—the kid called again, he wanted them to know who it was.

  After a few minutes, Eric came into the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “Was it a tough phone call?”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “You know about those?”

  “Yeah, sometimes they upset my dad too.” Eric put an arm over his shoulder.

  “Do you understand why he does it?” He felt his eyes mist up.

  The boy clung to him. “Because the people who call need help and they don’t always have someone to talk to.”

  “Yeah.” He wiped his cheeks and stood. “Come on, let’s decorate those cookies.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Were the World Mine

  Alex was working on his tablet in the living room when David came home. He and Eric had only just finished one of their sparring sessions. The self-defense drills went well. Eric practiced on his own and the proof was in the pudding. He only needed a little correcting.

  “You’re home soon.” Alex looked back over the couch as David hung up his coat in the foyer.

  “I didn’t have to work the whole shift, just cover until someone came in.” David sat on the bench and pulled off his duck boots. “Where’s the nugget?”

  “Cleaning up for dinner.”

  “I’m going to check on him.” David’s hand trailed on Alex’s shoulder as he trotted upstairs to check on his son.

  I need to tell him. While Alex was determined to talk to David about their little fight club, he didn’t want to betray the boy’s confidence. He pondered ways he could direct David in that direction without explicitly doing so. The boy was having a tough time of it, and he’d do anything he could to help him.

  David came down the stairs, holding a cellphone. “What is this?” he asked in a strained voice.

  Alex’s jaw tightened. Uh oh. “That’s my old phone. It was time for an upgrade, so I picked up a new one and gave that one to Eric . . . I mean, all the kids have one.”

  “All the kids have one.” David sat on the stairs. “I don’t want him to have one—yet.”

  “Coop, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t.” David rubbed the back of his neck. “You can’t parachute in and do whatever you want with him.”

  Alex looked down, nodding. “You’re right.”

  David’s eyes went wide. “I am?”

  “Yes, you are. I apologize. I should’ve asked first.”

  Standing up, the big guy came all the way into the living room. He turned the phone over in his hand. “So, how much is the service?”

  “There’s no cell service on it,” Alex said. “It’s Wi-Fi only. I even put in the same time limits, like you did on his tablet.”

  “You even got him a purple case to match the tablet?”

  “. . .”

  David shook his head and grimaced. “I can’t exactly take it away now, but please don’t do anything like this again, okay? Talk to me first.”

  “You’re absolutely correct. I will.” Maybe this wasn’t the right moment to talk about their self-defense lessons. Better to let things settle down.

  “Tea?” David headed to the kitchen, laying the phone on a shelf on the bookcase as he did.

  Minutes later, they sat near each other on the couch in front of the fire. The living room was warm and toasty.

  “I can’t get over that you have a teapot.” Alex felt the edge of his mouth twitch. This was not the kid he went to high school with, and yet somehow it was even more him.

  David lifted his cup with a proud smile. “Hey, I have a favorite teapot.”

  He clinked his cup with his friend’s in a mock toast. “I understand. I have a favorite spatula.”

/>   “We’re getting old.” David chuckled.

  “You need to get a Christmas tree.” He put his cup own.

  “Yeah, it keeps getting put off,” David said softly, his inscrutable blue eyes darting away. The blank space where the Christmas tree should be had a gravitational pull. A constant reminder of what happened between them years ago.

  Alex ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll need one for the Orpheum as well. Maybe we can get them at the same time.”

  Turning to him, David put an arm up on the back of the sofa. “Eric would love that.”

  “I had a call tonight on the CYA line.” Taking a deep breath, he related the events.

  Listening patiently, David didn’t criticize him for giving out personal information. “I’m sorry it was tough on you, but I appreciate you doing it.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “I was happy to do it. You should eat. There’s a plate waiting for you in the oven.”

  David cocked an eyebrow. “You actually cooked?”

  “No, I just warmed up another of your casseroles.”

  “Remember your shrimp pesto linguini?” Leaning forward, David put a hand on Alex’s leg. “It was the first dinner you ever cooked for me.”

  “Aunt Claire taught me the recipe.” Alex smiled. “How is she doing today?”

  “Grumpy, ready to get out. You know how she is.”

  “Do you know what’s going on with her?” Alex stared directly into David’s eyes. “Could you tell me if you did?”

  David looked down and picked at a fingernail. “It’s not my place to share a patient’s medical information.”

  It was the expected response. Alex leaned forward, his voice rising. “I’m her nephew. Isn’t that immediate family?”

  David’s head bobbed from side to side. “That term is flexible. In lieu of an emergency, hospital policy is to leave disclosure to the patient.”

  He scowled. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Fine, I should go.” He stood up.

  David put a hand on his arm. “Hey, don’t go all drama queen and leave in a huff.”

  “I’m not.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not. I mean, I actually do have things to do at the restaurant.”

  “Like what?” David asked skeptically as he picked up their cups and walked into the kitchen.