Christmas Coda 62 – Ellery Page and Jack Carson

 

 

Ellery

 

Todd followed him out the front door onto the shiny, wet sidewalk.

“You can’t leave. Where do you think you’re going?” The night was bitterly cold and Todd’s words seemed to literally hang in the air.

“Out.”

“In the middle of a party? You’re the host. You can’t walk out!”

“Sure, I can. I just have to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Todd’s handsome face was flushed and his eyes glittered. That was partly alcohol, but mostly it was embarrassment. No one likes being caught with their pants down. And Todd’s had most definitely been down. Jeans, underpants, pooled around his ankles, cock halfway down Jerry’s throat, head thrown back as Todd struggled to contain the sounds threatening to tear out of him.

Ellery closed his eyes to that image, but he couldn’t unsee it. He wanted to throw up. He said shakily, “How could you?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a drama queen!”

Ellery’s eyes jerked open. He could see brightly lit windows up and down the long street, parked cars spangled with frost. Christmas lights twinkled in the tree branches overhead, and beyond them, the stars, sparkling with cheerful indifference. Just another Ho Ho Hum Christmas Eve.

I was there you know; I had a cameo in the Star of Bethlehem production...

If he started laughing, it was going to turn to something else. And that would not only be humiliating, it would be pointless, because he’d already known it was over. Had been thinking for weeks he needed to speak up, say something. All they did was argue. Half the time, they didn’t even bother with the make-up sex. It didn’t need walking in on Todd and Jerry—

He said bitterly, “They’re your friends. Clearly.”

Yeah, that did hurt. Because, technically, Jerry was Ellery’s friend. One of his oldest friends. He’d even got Jerry a recurring role as Noah Street’s science geek buddy in the Happy Halloween! You’re Dead! films. How many people there tonight knew Todd and Jerry were…whatever they were.

Together. In a way he and Todd were not. And would never be again.

“They’re both of our friends. Friendses. Whatever. Look—” Todd thrust a hand through his hair, and said impatiently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

 “Then maybe don’t have sex in our bathroom during our Christmas Eve party!”

“I said I was sorry. We were going to tell you, but we didn’t want to ruin the holiday for you.”

At that, Ellery did start laughing. “Jesus Christ, Todd.” 

“It’s nobody’s fault. I just don’t l—it didn’t work out for us. It’s not the end of the world. Can’t we pretend to be civilized about it, at least?”

“I am being civilized,” Ellery said. “Instead of punching you in your face so you can’t film Monday, I’m going for a walk.”

 Todd gaped, put a hand to his sculpted cheekbone as though Ellery had indeed assaulted him. “You know, it’s your fault as much as mine!”

“I thought it wasn’t anyone’s fault?”

“Oh, you’re impossible! Do what you want, you big baby. Merry Fucking Christmas!”

Todd slammed back into the brownstone. Ellery’s brownstone, if someone wanted to get technical. But no, Ellery did not want to get technical. He did not want anything. Not anything here, at least. Not anymore.

For a moment he stared at the closed door in front of him. From inside the brownstone, he could hear laughter and music. The music suddenly blasted up a few decibels.

 

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

But the very next day, you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special…

Yeah. No. Never again.

Never. Again.

Not every movie ended with a kiss and a fade to black. Not everybody got a happy ending. Some people just weren’t cut out for love. Just ask ill-starred Noah Street with his string of dead or possessed girlfriends.

Ellery turned and started walking. He was glad when the music faded into nothingness.

*****

 

 

Jack

 

He hated Christmas.

And he hated that he hated Christmas.

You couldn’t blame Baby Jesus for all the bullshit. But it was such a long season. Made all the longer by the fact that stores, even little shops on the island, started putting out the fake pine garland and cute stuffed animals in elf costumes before the candles were out on Halloween.

Once upon a time, he’d loved Christmas.

Loved it all. From noisy. laughing family get-togethers to sitting in front of the fire late at night after a brutal shift, listening to Hannah dream aloud of a future that it turned out they were never going to have. Hell, once upon a time, he’d even been okay with Christmas-scented bath soap. But Once Upon a Time was for little kids. Little kids and their parents, whose job it was to keep those sugar plum dreams safe for as long as humanly possible.

Not to get maudlin. He was actually okay.

Granted, it had taken years to reach okay, but here he was. He could enjoy a quiet cup of coffee looking out his beach cottage window—lucky guy, right?—at the peaceful beauty of the sun coming up over the island. Enjoy that crazy cotton candy swirl of pink-edged clouds in a baby blue sky. In a little bit, he would walk down to the harbor, which would be all but deserted this morning. The cold, clean, salt air would sting his cheeks and fill his lungs. He’d feel alive again. He’d enjoy the song of the waves hitting the rocks, enjoy the songs the gulls sang—pub songs probably; gulls were rowdy birds.

Then he’d head over to the station. Which was where he really lived.

It was going to be a quiet day. Even for Pirate’s Cove which was a quiet little village.

Nothing ever happened in Pirate’s Cove. And Jack intended to keep it that way.

Damn. No dinner at the Salty Dog tonight. The pub would be closed for Christmas.

He sighed, but that was okay. He had bought roasted chicken at the little market and some frozen mashed potatoes. He wasn’t a picky eater.

Maybe he should get himself a dog for Christmas?

Or a bottle of Irish.

No, no. No Irish. He wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Sure, the alcohol numbed the pain, but you had to sober up eventually, and then you felt sad and sick.

Well, what about a dog? He liked dogs. He’d always had dogs when he was growing up.

Not a puppy. He didn’t have the energy or time for a puppy. But it would be nice to have something to come home to. Something that needed him. Something that was glad to see him.

Except he was rarely home.

That wouldn’t be fair to the dog.

Anyway, he didn’t have to be lonely. 

There were possibilities for companionship. Sue Lewis was smart and attractive. And interested. Robert Mane was smart and attractive and funny. Also interested. Jack still appreciated a good sense of humor, even if he himself wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.

Speaking of barrel of laughs, he smiled faintly at the sight of his neighbor, decked out in a Santa costume, lugging a green trash bag of presents up the walk. The bag snagged on a stepping stone and tore. Joe swore, straightened his Santa hat, scooped up the presents and staggered on.

Good for you, buddy.

Jack sighed.

Okay. So maybe he wasn’t happy.

People put too much emphasis on happiness. The truth was, he would probably never be really happy again. And that was okay. He was okay. He was at peace.  You couldn’t lose what you didn’t have. To be honest, the idea of ever being that happy again, of feeling that foolish certainty that everything would be okay in the end, and if it wasn’t okay, it wasn’t the end… Jesus. The very idea made him ill. Filled him with dread. To be that happy and not realize what was coming?

God.

Better to never know that kind of happiness. Anyone who said different, had never known real loss—or maybe they worked for a greeting card company.

Anyway. Another Christmas.

His mom and sister had both begged him to come back to California this year to spend the holidays with the family. He’d thought about it. Maybe next year he’d even go.

This year?

This year he was right where he needed to be. He raised his coffee cup to the faraway gleam of North Point lighthouse.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. “To you, to me and to all the ships at sea.”