Wyatt and Graham from PERFECT DAY
It started to fall apart right
before Christmas.
Everything had been fine up until
then. Better than fine. Graham and I were seeing each other a few times a week,
talking almost every day – talking about moving in together, in fact. It was
relaxed and easy and I started to believe in it, trust in it, count on it.
And I know Graham did too.
Ten months. Almost a year. But then
along came Christmas.
Not an easy time of the year to be
alone. Not an easy time of the year to be in a relationship, either, at least
not a new relationship. Not with all that potential for disappointment and
comparisons and miscommunication.
But I really did think –
Part of learning to be a couple is
figuring out the way through all those different, sometimes conflicting,
holiday traditions.
“Do you go home for Christmas?” I
asked Graham.
It was a Sunday morning and we were
having brunch at Metropol Bakery.
“I haven’t seen my parents in
eighteen years,” Graham replied, calmly picking the cranberries out of his
smoked turkey breast sandwich. “Not since I told them I was gay and they told
me to get out.”
I was shocked and I don’t think I
hid it very well. Graham had mentioned his parents a few times and I’d never
had any hint that he wasn’t on polite if distant terms with them. It underscored
how much we still didn’t know about each other.
“Did you want to go to your
parent’s for Christmas?” he asked.
“If you do.”
“If Bill and Dana don’t mind, sure.
I’d like that.”
“Mind? They’ll be thrilled.” My
parents loved Graham. They absolutely believed he was my Mr. Right. He talked
sports and gardening with my dad and cooking and politics with my mom. He was clean, polite, and employed. You bet
they loved him.
Graham grinned and that was that.
“What did you want for Christmas?”
he asked a couple of evenings later.
“Me?”
He laughed. “Yeah you. Can you give
me a few ideas of something you might like?”
“You mean a list?”
That was apparently even more
amusing. “If you want to make a list.”
I didn’t want to make a list. I
wanted him to surprise me with something he’d chosen particularly. Having to
come up with ideas seemed too much like handing over a grocery list and asking
him to remember to pick up a bottle of milk. I didn’t want him to give me a
list either – and, in fairness, he didn’t offer one.
“I don’t mind surprises,” I told
him, hoping he’d see what I was getting at.
“I don’t want to get you something
you already have.”
A reminder that for all the time we
spent together, and the discussions about moving in together, we didn’t live
together, didn’t really share a life.
“What did you do these last couple
of Christmases?” I asked later that night. “Did you spend the day on your own?”
We were at Graham’s, in bed. We’d
finished making love and we were lying there, quietly. Not talking, just
holding hands. Looking at the stars through the skylight.
I can’t say that Graham tensed, but
I could feel something changed. He said, “I spend Christmas with friends.”
“Oh.” I knew a lot of his friends
by now. He knew a lot of mine. I was wondering which friends he’d spent the
holiday with.
He said abruptly, “I usually spend
Christmas with Jase’s parents.”
“Oh.”
Until that moment I had never given
a thought to Jase’s parents, or to the fact that Graham might still be close to
them, that they might – probably did – regard him as another son. That Graham
probably loved them too. That he might prefer to spend Christmas with Jase’s
family over mine.
And even if he didn’t prefer Jase’s
parents to mine, I couldn’t help feel guilty – awful, in fact – that I was
taking Graham away from these people who had already endured the worst thing
that could happen to parents.
Graham turned his head my way. I
knew it was too dark for him to read my expression, just as it was too dark for
me to read his.
I said hesitantly, “Did you want to—?”
“No.” He said it with finality. So
much so that I didn’t feel I could question it. But I did question it, and
although he probably meant to reassure me, I didn’t feel reassured.
It all came to a head over the
Christmas tree.
I usually got my tree the first
weekend in December. That’s what we did when I was growing up and I continued
the tradition when I had a place of my own. I like Christmas. I like it all.
The music, the decorations, the presents, the special feeling in the air – the
fact that most people are a little
nicer, a little kinder, a little more generous this time of year.
This year I kept putting it off getting
the tree until the weekend before Christmas. Graham went with me to the tree
farm. We were tying the tree onto the roof rack of my car when he said, “You’re
going to a lot of trouble when you spend most of the time at my place anyway.”
“Maybe we should set it up at your
place?” I was partly kidding. Partly not.
Graham barely hesitated. “Okay.
Sure.”
“Do you have a tree stand?
Decorations?”
“I’ve got everything.”
That was the truth. He had
everything from tree skirt to tree stand to boxes of ornaments – all neatly
organized and labeled. Labeled in handwriting that wasn’t Graham’s.
When I saw that square, legible
writing I knew I had made a mistake. But it was too late by then. So we
dragged out the boxes and set up the tree. We strung the lights through the
fragrant needles. And then we began taking the ornaments out, one by one. There
were a lot of very old bulbs and beautiful handmade ornaments. Someone had
taken their tree trimming as seriously as I did. Graham, who had said very
little from the time we set up the tree, stopped talking altogether.
After hearing my too cheerful, too loud voice
break the silence a couple of times, I had nothing to say either.
Graham finally, mercifully went to
turn the stereo on. When he came back I was holding two clay ornaments, one red, one green. They were
imprints of small hands, a child’s hands. I turned them over and read JASON
KANE, age 5.
I looked up, saw Graham’s face, and
looked down again.
He said in a muffled voice, “Why
don’t I get take out for dinner?”
I nodded.
A second later the front door shut.
Graham didn’t come back. He didn’t
phone. It got later and later. I decorated the tree, put the boxes away, and
went home.
He didn’t call the next day either.
Or the next.
I could have called him, I guess.
I didn’t.
I drove up alone to my parents on
Christmas Eve.
“Where’s Graham?” they both asked.
“Not coming.” I couldn’t leave it
like that though. “I don’t think things are going to work out with Graham.”
“Oh no!” my mom exclaimed. “What
happened?”
My dad came to the rescue.
“Wyatt’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
But no. I didn’t think I’d be able
to talk about it. Not that trip anyway. I lay awake that night wondering what
Graham was doing. Wondering if he was lying there in that big empty bed staring
up at the stars and grieving for Jase.
My heart felt like a lump of coal.
It was still a good Christmas, though, and
if I did occasionally think about Graham, who was probably once again spending the
day with Jase’s parents, I didn’t let my preoccupation spoil the day for my own
folks.
We had reached the turkey
sandwiches and coffee part of the evening when the doorbell rang.
“It can’t be the mailman today,” my
mother said cheerfully as I went to answer it.
Graham stood on the doorstep, hands
shoved in the pocket of his navy parka, snowflakes in his dark hair.
“Hi!” I know I looked and sounded dumfounded.
I was.
“Wyatt.” Graham’s eyes were somber,
his expression a mix of pain and embarrassment. He was wondering what the hell
he was doing there. Which made two of us.
“You’re…” I didn’t finish because
yes, he was obviously there and yes he obviously hadn’t come for dinner. “Come
in.”
“No. I don’t—that is, I wanted to
see you. To talk to you.”
And whatever he had to say wasn’t
going to work in front of an audience. That I understood perfectly. “Hold on.”
I half closed the door, grabbed my coat off the hook on the wall rack, and
yelled, “I’ll be right back.”
I closed the door on the inquiries
of where I was going. Graham turned and we walked by silent agreement away from
the house toward where his jeep was parked.
“I don’t know what to say to you,”
he said. “I only know I couldn’t let another day go by, this day go by, without
trying to talk to you.”
“You could have called. You didn’t
have to drive all this way.”
He didn’t answer.
I stopped walking. “Graham.”
He stopped walking too. “Why did
you leave that night?”
“Why did I--? Huh? So you could
come home!”
“What are you talking about?”
I was already sorry for that flash
of bitterness. “Look, we both know you didn’t want me there.”
“You’re wrong, Wyatt.”
I laughed shortly. “No. I don’t
think so. The last person you wanted or needed to deal with that night was me.”
He put his hands on my shoulders,
gazed intently into my eyes. “Wyatt, you’re wrong. I did want you there. I always want you there.”
Why did he have to say that? I
pulled away and wiped my eyes on my coat sleeve. “I know you care about me.”
Exasperatingly, my voice shook. I steadied it. Took a deep breath. “But the
fact is, you still love Jase. You were right. You’re not ready to move on. I’ve
been pushing you the whole way.”
“You’re wrong.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not. I
saw your face that day. Not just that day either. It’s exactly what you said at
the start. You miss him all the time.”
“Yes, I miss Jase. But that doesn’t
change the fact that I love you and
want to spend my life with you.” Graham’s
hand was a warm weight on my shoulder. He turned me to face him once more. “I wanted you there that night. When you left
like that, without a word…I figured you were angry or hurt or both. I thought
maybe I should give you some time. And I was…embarrassed, I guess.”
“Embarrassed?”
His face twisted. “I feel like I’m
always breaking down in front of you. It’s not fair to keep putting you through
that. It’s a strain on our relationship. I know that. But sometimes…something
will get to me. That night…was tough. But having you there helped.”
“You didn’t come back. You didn’t
call. It didn’t feel like I was helping.” I was still trying to wrap my head
around the idea that Graham believed he was always breaking down in front of
me. He was one of the least demonstrative guys I’d ever known. Not cold, but
not effusive. Not by a long stretch.
“All I can tell you is when I got
home and saw you were gone…” The pain in his eyes surprised me. “I thought I’d
better give you a little space. I hoped you’d call. I thought you would.” He
glanced automatically toward the house.
Seeing the situation from Graham’s
standpoint, I felt a stab of remorse. It had never occurred to me he would feel
anything but relief at being let out of spending Christmas day with my family.
“I was waiting for you to call. I
felt like it was your move.”
“Why would it be my move? Aren’t we
in this together?” He was frowning.
I wanted to believe him. I did
believe him up to a point. But if he was wrong? I wasn’t sure I could take it.
Something inside me seemed to snap. I blurted, “I feel like I can’t live up to
Jase, to what you had with Jase.”
Graham looked stunned. I rushed on,
afraid if I didn’t get out now I never would. “I feel like I can’t compare.
Like you’ve already had the best there is and anything I can offer is just
going to be second best.”
“Sweetheart. Wyatt. Stop.”
I stopped. That had been way more
than I had ever meant to say. And Graham thought he was always falling apart?
Graham pulled his glove off and rested his
warm hand against my face. “Listen to me.” His gray gaze held mine. “Everything
is completely different with you, completely new. And I’m glad. I don’t compare
you to Jase. You’re nothing like him. That doesn’t take anything away from
either of you. I loved Jase but he’s gone. You’re here now and I love you with
all my heart.”
“Is that true?”
“You must know.”
I looked into Graham’s face, into
his unguarded gaze, and I did know. I could see the depth of his emotion, the
emotion he kept so firmly in check, regardless of what he thought.
“When I see you, I see the future,” he said. “I
don’t know what that future holds. I just know I want it.”
I began to smile. “I’m pretty sure
one thing that future holds is a turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee.”
Miscommunication happens to the best of us... Josh I love this, inspiring.... sigh... love its such a blessed thing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for another lovely coda! (^▽^) This one had me holding my breath a lot! I'm so glad they managed to work things out in the end - and still spend some of Christmas day together!
ReplyDeleteThese are wonderful. Thanks so much
ReplyDeleteLovely - again! This was so true to the original story, and also what was needed between them for their relationship to move on - a frank exchange which cleared the doubts caused by lack of self-worth. Beautifully done, too (of course). Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI think so. I was thinking when I was writing the original story that it wasn't going to be easy for Wyatt.
DeleteMade me a bit teary-eyed, that one. It's so emotional, so beautiful. It's like a second chance inside a second chance (I don't know a better way to say it in English, but you know what I mean). Thank you for these codas, Josh. Every one of them has made me feel so grateful, peaceful and full of love. :)
ReplyDeleteI second Johanna's reaction on this one; teary-eyed and all that. I don't envy Wyatt who unconsciously felt like he had to compete with a ghost from the past. But him and Graham together are such wonderful misfits! Beautifully written, Josh. All these codas are just so wonderful!
ReplyDeleteAnd all those mentioning of turkey sandwiches got me hungry. :)
Way to go! Here I sit crying in my coffee! This was just a lovely story for my second favorite boys! I could easily see them becoming my favorites. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteAwww.
ReplyDeleteI kept holding my breath with worry. One of the things I appreciate about your writing is the truth of your characters.
ReplyDeleteSmiling. It's the little things in life.
ReplyDeleteForget coda, Josh. This read more like short story #2 in the lives of Wyatt & Graham. And brilliantly executed, of course! There could be so much to explore between the two of them in a longer format, in the hands of someone with your talent.
ReplyDeleteThanks also for another lovely photo in that glorious silvery motif.
Hope you are feeling/getting better.
Love!Such a wonderful embodiment of how communication is key in any relationship - with the added emotions of Christmas making it even more trying. Must acknowledge that I too was wondering for a bit if you were going to leave them at an impasse! Now, I need to find one of those frothy, whipped cream laden mochas pictured above .... ;-)
ReplyDeleteI so love the settings (and photos) that go along with each of these codas!
ReplyDeleteWyatt and Graham are perfect for each other, but I can see where insecurities about past relationships can take a toll esp. during the Holiday...another couple I would like to revisit as their relationship grows :)
Beautiful
ReplyDeleteI join the general''Awwww!''.
ReplyDeleteAt one stage it was a bit difficult to believe everything was going to be all right, but then I thought that you wouldn't do this to us, nor to Wyatt and Graham ;-).
Thank you for writing! Slow down and take care!
Ciao
Antonella
Very well done, love.
ReplyDeleteJosh, no one writes poignancy and "grown-up" angst better than you...no one. More importantly, I never feel as though I'm being manipulated...it's always genuine and true to the character. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteWOW! Every day I say, "This is my favorite". This one? Tops all the others and will definitely be difficult to beat.
ReplyDeleteAnother lovely Christmas gift for us all.
ReplyDeleteThe red and green handprints speared me through the heart--could just feel Graham's anguish at unearthing those two mementos. Could feel Wyatt's uncertainty at what to do, where he stood.
Glad it worked out; wonder if Wyatt and Graham are destined to a full calendar cycle of these events before the past quits broadsiding Graham and Wyatt has confidence that he and Graham will be together forever--without Jase's ghost popping up unexpectedly.
Perfect Day packs a wallop of emotion, and this coda does the same.
Thanks for the Monday treat, Josh.
Cheers, Kelly
Those little handprints, yes. I think that would be hard.
DeleteWow, you packed more drama in this coda than most novellas I've read this year! It's so hard to step into some great love's shadow. I also enjoyed the fact that when you presented the story in Wyatt's POV, you made me think the ball was in Graham's court, I was totally on Wyatt's side - until I learned of Graham's side of perception :-)
ReplyDeleteHow long after Jase's death did Wyatt and Graham meet?
ReplyDeleteMaybe Graham should seek professional help?
:-D
DeleteI think it's about three years. But there were circumstances around Jase's death that I think make it harder to get over. Plus when you've had many many years with the perfect person...it take a while.
This was just beautiful...and what Cynthia and Johanna and so many others all said too. All of it.
ReplyDeleteRemember to be kind to yourself, Josh. You sure are being kind to your fans.
These two always make me cry. I'm glad things are working out and that it was Wyatt's freak out, not Grahams! Nice one.
ReplyDeleteIn literary fiction the misunderstandings would persist or escalate into dire consequences, just like real life. Except, thank goodness, that isn't necessarily like real life at all — but your little stories are. Like real life where two intelligent adults are able to listen to each other, hear each other, and work things out.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Karan!
DeleteYou know one of the things that irritates me in so much of literary fiction is people don't say the things you *would* in real life! Assuming you've got a brain, there are things you would say in an argument -- things that most of us would say. And if you're dealing with another halfway intelligent person, there are things they would say back!
I think this is one of my exasperations with so much fiction, literary and otherwise. ;-)
Karen, I meant.
DeleteProof that I am reading all the comments! :-)
Wyatt and Graham are two of my favorite characters. So glad they're moving forward in their relationship.
ReplyDeleteReally really good! Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThank you all for these kind comments. I'm restricting my own commenting because I'm dealing with a dang blasted head cold -- and trying to save my wrists as much as possible (so irritating!) -- but I do appreciate you taking the time to share your enjoyment! :-)
ReplyDeleteChicken soup, Josh. Truly curative. :~D
DeleteKelly
I loved it!
ReplyDeleteJust as emotional as Perfect Day and just as sweet.
Oh, and I want that coffee in the picture. Looks wonderfull.