Zach:
Ben: It's on, I told you.
Zach:
Ben: That isn't going to help.
Zach: Who's having problems getting anything written right now. Better?
Ben: Yeah.
Zach: We wanted a story for Christmas and apparently, it's up to us to write one.
Ben: We decided to tell you about something that happened to me this year. I don't know why it has to be about me, but…
Zach: Because I didn't have any adventures.
Ben: Whatever.
Zach: And because the last Christmas story was about me.
Ben: But I was in that one, too!
Zach: Are we doing this or not?
Ben: Fine.
Zach: Ok, so here we go. I've got to get the paper…where are our notes?
Ben: Don't look at me. You had them last.
Zach: I did not, I gave them to you.
Ben: What's that under your folder?
Zach: Oh. Here we go.
The date is December 10th and the morning air feels crisp with the chill from the northern system moving across Kaiser Street. Snow is falling softly, blanketing the cold-hardened ground in white, the grass hidden four inches underneath.
On 704 Kaiser, the Talbot children are laughing as they work together to build a snowman. Mom is nearby watching them from the warmth of the house, and Dad is pulling on his gloves to go out and help them. They have a good start on the body, rolling the medium-sized ball of snow around in the yard, picking up new snow as they carve trails in the white landscape. Engrossed in their work, they don't seem to notice Dad has come out until he shoulders his weight in building their work of art.
Across the street at 707 Kaiser, the Reynolds' Chihuahua, Schnookums, barks and growls playfully with the Thompson's 120 pound Rottweiler, Tiny. The larger dog rolls over in the snow, submitting to his much smaller playmate, who was living on Kaiser Street two years before he arrived. The Laws of Territorialism dictated that Schnookums had seniority, thereby granting him dominance, in spite of his smaller stature. Schnookums cuts a trail through the snow, nipping at the ground and calling to Tiny to follow suit. Snow encrusts the tips of their noses and they munch on snow as if it were kibble.
Down the road a bit to 710 Kaiser Street, Mr. Saunders curses from high up on his ladder as the strand of lights he works to hang stays stubbornly enmeshed with itself, refusing to be untangled. Mrs. Saunders, hands on her hips, scolds him from the ground, insisting that she told him to sort the lights before trying to hang them. Mr. Saunders continues his tirade, drawing looks of disapproval from Mr. Kramer who is returning from the curbside with the day's mail. Mrs. Saunders throws up her hands, disgusted with her husband, and, fully fed up, storms into the house.
As we continue down the block, we see a black SUV maneuvering its way into the drive of 717 Kaiser Street. Its occupants look grim, despite the falling snow and Christmas in the air. It looks as if the Christmas spirit has not quite reached this couple.
Ben: We had the Christmas spirit!
Zach: Your tree was half put up and you still had a shitload of shopping to do.
Ben: That doesn't mean we weren't in the Christmas spirit! And where did you get those stupid dog names?
Zach: Give it back. I had to make up something.
Ben: It's Bowser and Snoopy.
Zach: Snoopy is a Beagle.
Ben: *Those're* their names.
Zach:
Ben: Lying about what happened.
Zach: Oh, yeah. Grim and Scroogish coming home.
The man on the passenger side shifts in his seat as the garage door opens, his glower transforming to an expression of foreboding.
Let's listen in.
"Get some bags out of the trunk as you go in," Vic said.
Ben glanced over at his partner, his hand on the door handle. "I thought you said you wanted me to go straight in," he mumbled bitterly.
"I do, but not empty-handed."
With that, Vic slipped out of the SUV and opened the back storage area to a pile of bags from various stores: Hecht's, JCPenney, Target, and Kohl's, to name a few.
Vic wordlessly picked up a few bags and held them out for Ben to take. Ben accepted the bags he was offered and went into the house, dropping them on the kitchen table. He went to the fridge and opened it just as Vic followed him into the kitchen.
"We aren't done yet," Vic said tersely.
"Can I at least get something to drink?" Ben snapped.
"After we get everything inside," Vic said, disappearing back out into the garage.
Ben followed and leaned into the SUV and took the handles of the Hecht's bags. "I told you I hated the Christmas crowd."
"Not a word, Benjamin. Not one word," Vic growled.
Ben huffed and picked up his selections and stormed back into the kitchen this time getting his drink. "Overbearing, bossy… never listens to me -"
"What did you say?" Vic asked as he dropped his bags on the table. His hands went to his hips much like Mrs. Saunders' had earlier as he waited for an answer.
"You don't listen!" Ben stormed. "If you hadn't made me go…"
"Like I said this morning," Vic said, cutting off the tirade, "I don't like to fight the Christmas crowds any more than you do, and it isn't fair that I should do it alone. The gifts are from both of us."
"But you don't want *my* input," Ben challenged.
"I know what my mother likes. I can't help it that nothing you suggested would work."
"Any of them work better than what we ended up with, which is nothing." Ben spread his empty arms as proof.
"And why is that?" Vic asked, his dark eyes turning cold.
Ben didn't blink at the unnerving calm from his partner, refusing to quell his anger. "Because you're picky and wouldn't make a decision. But that's somehow my fault."
"I did make a decision. The fact that you didn't like that decision isn't a reason for you to do what you did," Vic said.
Ben: You're making me sound horrible. I should have never told you this story.
Zach: I filled in a little, but I don't think I'm far off from what you told me.
Ben: You have me yelling, snapping!
Zach: You're snapping now.
Ben: Quit grinning at me like that. You're making me snap. Let me tell it.
Zach: Fine.
Ben tried to move the conversation back to a safer subject. "You can't tell me that not *one* thing in any of those stores we went to would work," he reasoned.
Vic glared at Ben, his silence speaking volumes. "What?" Ben asked quizzically.
"Is it a reason for you to act that way?" Vic pushed on. "We wasted thirty minutes at least on that little tantrum."
"I didn't have a tantrum," Ben said with contrition.
Ben: What are you laughing at?
Zach: There's no way in hell it happened like that. I know you better than that and so do the readers. Give me back the notes.
Ben: No.
Zach: Come on, Ben. We're never going to finish this way.
Ben: I was there. I should tell it.
Zach: You're telling a cleaned up version. I'll tell what I'm sure happened.
Ben tried to move the conversation back to a safer subject. "You can't tell me that not *one* thing in any of those stores we went to would work," he argued vehemently.
Vic glared at Ben, his silence speaking volumes. "What?!" Ben snapped.
"Is it a reason for you to act that way?" Vic pushed on. "We wasted thirty minutes at least on that little tantrum."
"I didn't have a tantrum," Ben said stubbornly.
"Oh, you SO had a tantrum, Benjamin. Tantrums don't have to be verbal."
"I just got aggravated, ok? The crowds were getting on my nerves and so were you."
"That gives you the right to storm off and get lost in the crowds?"
"I wasn't lost. I knew where I was."
"*I* didn't know where you were. I must have walked holes in the soles of my shoes, trying to find you in that sea of people."
"I thought you'd know I went to the car!" Ben said.
"How would I know that?"
"You seem to know everything else," Ben muttered.
Vic grew about 10 inches, his voice dropping to warning growl. "Benjamin, you aren't making this any better."
Ben felt the noose slip closed around his neck. "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to cause trouble."
"You meant to make a statement of some sort, and I got it."
"I said I was sorry!"
Vic crossed his arms and looked sternly at his partner. "I think we've talked enough. Go upstairs and find a corner."
"I'm sorry, I said!"
"And I said go upstairs," Vic ordered.
Ben looked into his partner's eyes, locking on them in search of some shred of understanding, some flicker of acceptance of his apology, some glimmer of hope that Vic might let this go. All he saw was the brown-black color, devoid of any warmth but full of determination. Resignedly, he turned from Vic and went upstairs.
Ah, things are looking dismal for one of the residents at 717 Kaiser Street. It seems that the partially decorated tree might stay half-adorned for another day. The boxes of decorations will have to sit in the living room until a later time.
Downstairs, Vic moves the bags from the kitchen table to join the boxes of decorations, keeping everything of Christmas in one place. He sits on the sofa, lost in thought, his facial expressions changing from perplexed to angry, then back to perplexed. He looks toward the stairs through the living room doorway until he is distracted by Maggie, pushing at his palm for a petting.
Upstairs, Benjamin waits, standing in the north corner of their bedroom, arms crossed, and back rigid with frustrated anger.
Ben: We should do a fade to black.
Zach: No way. We need to write it right. All of it.
Ben: Fine. I'm leaving for this part.
Zach: Wait! I need to know how bad it was so I'll know what adjectives to use.
Ben: It was bad enough. Figure it out.
There's a sound of feet on the stairs, ascending to the second floor of 717 Kaiser Street.
Vic's presence fills the space that is the landing, with a determined and set look to his face. He stalks down the hallway and pushes through the partially opened door.
"Ok, Benjamin. Come here," Vic instructed as he took a seat on the bed.
"I didn't do anything," Ben said, turning from the corner.
"You stormed off mad at me in an effort to get me back for making you go shopping. In my book, that's something. Come here."
Ben's stomach did a somersault as Vic stretched his hand out to him. He was in for it, and the brief bit of satisfaction he felt at having Vic scour the store for him was lost in the throes of dread washing over him. He hadn't intended for Vic to search for him; it was just an added bonus for the hell he had put up with all day among the other last minute shoppers.
With a snap of his outstretched fingers, Vic said, "Let's go, Ben. We have other things than this to get done today."
Ben managed to get within reach of his partner, and Vic leaned up enough to grab Ben's wrist and pull him forward.
"We had too much to do today to have to deal with a tantrum," Vic said sternly as he looked into Ben's downcast eyes. "Didn't we?"
Ben nodded. With a comment about getting it over with, Vic proceeded to unfasten the fly of Ben's jeans then tugged both them and Ben's boxers to mid-thigh then pulled Ben over his lap.
"Fair is fair, Benjamin, and if I have to shop for our family and friends, then so do you," Vic pronounced with a sharp, punctuating swat to Ben's left cheek. He dropped another on the right just as Ben yelped from the first one.
"I'm sorry!" Ben pleaded. "I'll go finish the rest if that will make you happy."
"Make me happy? I didn't start off in this mood, Ben. You put me there. I would have been happy as a clam if you had just supported me in getting the shopping done as quickly as possible today."
"Ah!" Ben squelched as Vic settled into a slow side-to-side rhythm on his backside. "I was *trying* to help - ow!"
"You were picking up anything," Vic said as he continued to bring his hand down, "that fit the price range, whether you thought my mom would like it or not."
"I just wanted to hurry up," Ben said, as his voice cracked, tears barely held at bay.
"I didn't question you when you picked out your mother's gift. But that's not what this is about," Vic said, pausing. "It's about you going off in a huff without telling me where you were going, and leaving me to wander the store looking for you."
Ben began to sob quietly, using the pause to try to catch his breath. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I needed some space."
"Which might have been fine had you bothered to tell me that."
Ben's body stiffened as Vic picked up the pace, briskly swatting Ben's upturned rear end. The focused, relentless smacking made Ben twist futilely and break down fully. He couldn't hear Vic's comments over the roaring in his ears and the sound of his own crying intermingled with repeated expressions of contrition.
Ben: God, Zach. That's not how it was.
Zach: I thought you left.
Ben: Thank God I came back in time to hear that load of crap you're shoveling.
Zach: What's wrong with it?
Ben: It didn't happen that way for one, and two, Vic doesn't do it that way.
Zach: You said he lectures during.
Ben: Yeah, but not like that.
Zach: Fine, why don't you tell it?
How had things gotten so out of control? One minute Ben was annoyed at Vic shopping, the next he was pulling at the tail of his turtleneck to cover his butt. Vic pulled him across his lap and proceeded to push the jeans and underwear down to Ben's knees.
Ben felt Vic's arm lying across his back, poised to lock onto his hip if he moved too much. It always seemed to be a combination of that arm tightening down and the feeling that he couldn't get away from the spanks that sent Ben over the edge.
Vic's right hand lifted and started to fall squarely on Ben's butt, one cheek at a time.
"Don't you ever go off in a snit like that again leaving me to wonder where you went," Vic lectured as he spanked. "Do you understand me?"
Ben heartily agreed, promising never to let it happen again, so Vic gathered him in his arms, consoling Ben while he hugged him tightly.
Zach: That's it? That's all you got for making him search the mall for you?
Ben: It's close enough and it wasn't the whole mall. It was JCPenney.
Zach: Nelson would have killed me.
Ben: I *did* get killed.
Zach: Define "killed". It wasn't "killed" by my definition.
Ben: I got killed.
Zach: Tell it right.
Ben: I told all I'm telling. If you want to tell more about it, tell something on yourself.
Zach: Fine.
The house is silent except for the sounds of an occasional sniffle and a softly spoken word. The scene is a touching one, Vic holding his partner and whispering accepting responses to Ben's repeated apologies. Now we can focus on brighter things. The tree is still needing to be dressed and the presents to be wrapped, garland to be hung and lights to be draped across the front hedges.
The snow is still falling, heavier now than before, and the four-inch-thick blanket has become six. The snowplow has given the street a swipe but won't be back before nightfall, making driving a dangerous prospect.
Vic kissed the top of Ben's head and hugged him. "Why don't you put something comfortable on so we can work on the tree?"
Ben groaned and huddled tighter against Vic. Vic rubbed Ben's back and said, "Come on, get some sweats on."
Ben quietly complied and Vic went to the window, lifting one mini-blind slat to see outside. "It's really picked up since we got in. It's a good thing we came home when we did."
Ben cut his eyes at Vic, letting his expression speak for him. Vic was quick to add, "It's a good thing we came home, but not *why* we came home."
Ben finished changing into his favorite grey sweats and followed Vic downstairs. He stayed close to Vic, saying little, while he and Vic finished trimming the tree, adding ornaments on the limbs to accompany the garland they had hung the night before. Maggie lay close enough to keep an eye on her men but not close enough to get stepped on.
"That's all I have," Vic said, peering into the ornament storage box. "Are you about done?"
"I'm done," Ben said, tossing some leftover hooks back into the box.
"Why don't you get comfortable on the couch and I'll put these boxes back in the basement? I think I'll change into some sweats, too."
"'kay," Ben said.
Ben curled up on the sofa and Maggie planted herself beside him, snuggling into Ben's mid-section. Vic came back down and went through to the kitchen, and Ben heard him running water and moving around the room. He came back empty-handed and switched off the lamp, and ran his fingers down the back of Ben's head, humming a Christmas carol. He sorted through the stack of CDs by the entertainment center and made his selection, then popped it into the CD player.
Bing Crosby's voice crooned through the living room speakers singing of a Silent Night, his voice soothing and smooth. By the time he was singing White Christmas, Vic had returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with mounds of creamy whipped cream. He set the cups on the coffee table in front of Ben then held his hand out for Ben's, tugging him upright so Vic could squeeze in next to him.
"Thanks," Ben said, sipping his hot chocolate, leaving a little dab of Cool Whip on his top lip. Vic smiled at him and used the tip of his tongue to remove the frosting, then finished it off with a soft kiss.
Vic hummed God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen with Bing and---
Zach: How do we end it? Drinking hot chocolate isn't all that exciting.
Ben: We sat around and finished our hot chocolate, then we watched Christmas Vacation on DVD.
Zach: There needs to be more than that. It needs a hook.
Ben: I can't help you. Nothing much happened. We went shopping, Vic got mad and we finished decorating inside. The end.
Zach: We have to wrap it up somehow. How about "they had hot passionate sex for the rest of the evening"?
Ben: I wasn't in the mood, for one thing, and for another, all we did was talk and watch a movie.
Zach: What did you talk about?
Ben: Something Vic remembered about Christmas.
"I love this CD," Vic said. "I remember we had it in album form long before they ever dreamed of cassettes, let alone CDs."
"These are classics."
"They are," Vic said. He sipped his hot chocolate then hummed some more. A chuckle arose and Vic said, "I wish you could have known my father. He loved Christmas."
"What are you laughing at?"
"The way he put a tree up, or decorated it, rather. We used to put our Bing Crosby album on and decorate while it played. My dad had specific ideas as to what should be done to make Christmas special. He was all about tradition. No presents opened before Christmas for one. We always had a real tree - I'm not even sure they had artificial ones at that time. I was really little."
"We always had artificial ones. The easier to deal with, the better, for my mom," Ben said.
"I wish I had known that. You should experience a real tree at least once in your life. Maybe we'll get one next year."
"We could."
"Anyway, we would go out and find our tree then my dad would cut it down himself. We didn't have pretty pines; they were always cedar, all bushy and stuff. I used to wish we had the prettier ones, but my dad was happy with cedar. Back then they also had these icicles -"
Ben laughed. "You say 'back then' like you're 50."
"It seems like a lifetime ago. Things sure have changed. Those icicles were little bitty strips of silver foil-like stuff. Have you seen them?"
"Yeah, I know what you're talking about."
"Well, my dad insisted that they be put on one at a time. I preferred to toss mini-handfuls on the tree."
"More anal than you? At least now I know where you get it from," Ben teased.
"That's not the worst of it. I think they cost $.50 a box but Dad made us take them all down and save them for next year. God, that was tedious! I can still see him in my mind, draping each individual icicle over his palm."
"He wouldn't let you just buy a new box?"
"No, indeed. 'There is no reason to spend money on new icicles for next year when these are perfectly fine. You missed one, son'. I can still remember biting my tongue. Well, aside from an annoyed 'DAAA-aaad!' every now and then."
Vic and Ben shared a laugh at the memory then they fell quiet listening to the Christmas music.
Vic sighed deeply and said quietly, "I miss him."
Ben looked up at Vic and saw him wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry, Vic. I wish he could be here."
"Me, too," Vic said with a smile. "He was a good man."
Ben slipped his arms around Vic and hugged him tightly, vaguely noticing the scent of Vic's cologne still lingering from the morning. He wondered what Vic's dad had smelled like, if he liked the same things Vic liked, and if he would have accepted Ben. Ben silently supported Vic with his touch, briefly kissing him on the cheek.
"He would have loved you, you know," Vic declared.
"How do you know?"
"Trust me, I know."
"I wondered if he would have."
Vic said confidently, "I have no doubt."
As Bing reached the end of the CD for the second time, Vic patted Ben's leg and said, "I'm feeling all Christmassy. How about you?"
"Yeah, it's nice."
"Why don't we watch a Christmas movie?"
"That sounds good. And a refill on the hot chocolate?"
Vic stood and picked up both mugs. "Why don't you pick something out while I do the honors?"
"What do you want to watch?"
"I'll leave that to you," Vic said as he left the room.
Ben sat on his knees in front of the media cabinet and flipped through the boxes of DVDs until he found Christmas Vacation. A story of a man intent on making Christmas special seemed to suit, given Vic's memories. Ben leaned back on his feet and took a meaningful look at their tree. Every ornament was thoughtfully hung, filling in gaps and balancing the display.
He found their Our First Christmas ornament near the top, a simple design of an angel dressed in all white, holding a banner announcing their first in gold lettering with the year beneath. It seemed like only yesterday, yet a lifetime. Ben couldn't imagine a Christmas without Vic.
"Did you find something?" Vic asked as he returned.
"Yeah, Christmas Vacation."
"I love that movie. Reminds me of my Dad in a funny way." He sat the mugs back on the coffee table and settled in beside Ben.
It's here that we leave our couple, content and warm next to the gas fireplace, flames crackling to the sounds of Christmas music playing at the start of the movie. As is said in the carol, "all is calm, all is bright" on Kaiser Street.
Icicle lights dangle from the Saunders' roof, having lost the battle with Mr. Saunders to stay in a twist. To see them now, one would ever know they had been tangled. Smoke trails heavenward from the warm fire inside, all thoughts of earlier harsh words a thing of the past.
The snow is now a clean blanket of white where Schnookums and Tiny had left trails and footprints as they frolicked earlier in the day. It will likely remain undisturbed until they meet again tomorrow morning.
A snowman stands in the yard of 704 Kaiser, adorned with a hat and a scarf to keep him as warm as possible without endangering his life. Skinny twigs form his arms and the obligatory carrot stick forms his nose. The neighbors will enjoy him until the next day's sun warms him to a puddle.
Yes, it's a silent night and all is well. The snow is tapering off to flurries as the temperature falls and the clouds move east. Christmas will soon be here and for the residents of Kaiser Street, they'll be ready.
The end
Zach: That is *so* sappy.
Ben: It's touching!
Zach: