ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
PART ONE
“Hold still, Thom!” Frank said, taking a swig from his coffee. “Stick out your chin a little more. The boy’s a Michelangelo, isn’t he, Patricia?”
“That’s why I married him, Dad,” Patti sat down at the kitchen table, pulling the housecoat closer.
“Thomas, stop smirking,” Frank said.
“Oh, leave the boy alone,” Sara said, coming into the kitchen.
“When are we going to open presents!” Russell demanded coming down the back stairs. Behind him Uncle John’s boys chanted, “Presents! Presents!”
“Restraint in everything, Russell!” Thom said.
“Thom!” Frank reprimanded his son-in-law for talking.
“Good morning and Merry Christmas to you too, son,” Patti said, reaching up to swat the back of Russell’s head.
“I think Russell’s got a point,” Sara decided. “When I was a little girl we’d open presents right after Midnight Mass. The suspense is killing me. Let’s open now.”
` At this John’s three sons began to cheer before Patti said, “But everyone’s not up yet.”
“Well, let’s wake ‘em.”
Frank stopped painting.
“You care if we stop for a while?”
“Ah?” Thom looked as if he were hesitating in is answer. He smiled brightly.
“Not at all. Well, Russ, go up and wake John. I’m surprised you didn’t wake him up when you were getting out of bed.”
“John didn’t stay in my room,” Russell said.
Thom and Patti both eyed him, and then turned their gazes on each other.
“He... ah...” Patti stumbled over her words. “He and Jackie... stopped...left after coffee... went to play...”
“In the snow,” Thom finished her sentence.
“Yes,” said Patti. “The snow.”
“Where’s Daddy!” Tommy asked Russell, tugging at the other boy’s housecoat.
“Probably just talking with Jackie,” Sara said. “They probably talked all night long.”
Thom raised an eyebrow at his mother in law.
“Dawlings!” They heard Kathleen before she arrived at the base of the stairs, followed by the vacant eyed Chase, a new and, in Tom’s estimate, entirely two young companion.
“We were about to open presents,” Sara started, “but we can’t find John.”
“He and Jackie slipped off last night,” Frank elaborated, putting up the paints and moving the easel from the center of the kitchen. “and neither of them has come back since.”
“Oh, marvelous,” Kathleen cried, clasping her hands together, “That means they finally had sex!”
“What’s that?” Tommy and Russ both demanded, screwing up their little faces and looking at their namesakes in confusion.
Thom and Russell looked to each other, Russell made a conciliatory gesture to his father who said, “Something that there’s been a whole lot too much of in this house for the last few holidays.”
“If you ask me there hasn’t been enough,” Kathleen differed, making her way to the coffee pot.
Thom, Frank, Patti, Russell, Sara and Kathleen and the boys made their way to the living room.
Russell said, “I have to sing at ten o’clock Mass,” and Thom said they’d better start opening presents immediately then while Patti said, “Make it quick ‘cause we need to put dinner in the oven.”
“Chase, dear, would you go upstairs with Russell to wake up the others,” Kathleen asked, and Russell felt strange walking up the stairs beside someone whom, when he snuck side glances at him looked to be about twenty.
“I work at Pizza Hut,” Chase said by way of introduction as they came upstairs. “What do you do?”
“I work for the CIA. I’m actually forty-five years old.”
Russell stopped to knock on his Aunt Kristin’s door while Chase stood and looked at him in amazement.
“Really?” Chase marveled.
Russell looked at him, dumfounded.
“No.” he said.
The tree was high and green, touching the ceiling and clothed in silver tinsil and red bows, its green smelling branches hanging dark over the mass of presents, so many, so well wrapped in red and gold, in green, in stripes, in ribbons. With such a large group there were many presents. Then, as made sense with therr only being four children in the family, and only one of them being over five years old, the bulk of them fell to Russell. For some reason this always put a strange stress on him when, after holding back for so long, suddenly the tree was his. He was the only person in the house that everyone gave a presents to. One mother, one father, three uncles, three aunts, three grandparents, none giving gifts as couples, some giving more than one gift.
Thom and Patti, even at their worst and most depressed never spared expense on their only child.
This year three huge journals like ledgers, with hard covers that would take months to fill, felt pens to go with them—this from Patti. It was not the only present, but the one he liked best, that and a hardbound set of The Lord of the Rings.
Thom got three things, none of them in boxes. The first was two hundred dollars out of his wallet so that Russell could “Get himself what he really wanted to wear,” the next was—strange coming from Thom (or anyone) a large cedar chest to go at the foot of his bed. The last was in the hall closet and Thom maneuvered Russell toward it, pretending his son’s shoulders were a stirring wheel and crying, cheerfully, “This way, to the right, vroom vroom. Screech,” as they approached the closet.
Russell opened it.
“Dad!”
“If you don’t like it, I’ll—well, I can’t very well take it back can I?”
“No, Dad,” Russell’s voice was smaller as he marveled over it, lifting it up. “No, I love it. But I can’t play it.”
“Jackie can teach you,” Thom told him. “Half the family can teach you.”
“You can teach me!”
“Aw Russ, I don’t—what?”
Thom caught an almost horrified look in his son’s eyes as Russell murmured, “Thomas Lewis ’75.”
“If you wanted your own instead I—” Thom started, but Russell leapt up and threw his arms around his father, burying his red head in the older man’s shoulder.
“Russell... Russell,” Thom said. He was about to say, “Enough,” when he realized that this was a small miracle and let his son embrace him, even if the boy was almost bigger than him and the embrace was going to knock him to the ground.
Suddenly the door opened on the seen of filial bliss, and Jackie came into the house, looking red and petrified.
Thom and Russell separated.
“Welcome,” started Thom, “Jaclyn.”
“Where’s John?” Sara demanded aloud.
“Patti,” Jackie said, ignoring John’s mother, “I need to talk to you. Now.”
“Should we wait until—?” Patti began.
“Now.”
“Very well,” Patti stood up and announced, “Part two of the opening of presents will take place… later on. Right now Jaclyn Dara Lewis and I are going to begin the Christmas Dinner and my son, Russell Fennian Lewis is going to get dressed for ten a.m. Mass.”
“Alright,” Russell said. “Thanks Mom, Thanks Dad.”
He ran halfway up the stairs before remembering the guitar, running back down, throwing his arms around short Thom again, then running back up with his instrument.
“Do you need us to help?” Kristin and Kathleen entered the kitchen.
“Not... right now?” Jackie said.
“Well if you ever need to talk...” Kristin left the rest off, putting her hand to the swinging door and preparing to return to the living room.
“Or if you need any tips about sex—”
“:Mother!” Kristin reprimanded, grabbing Kathleen’s arm.
“She’s such a prude—” started Kathleen as her daughter hauled her out of the kitchen.
Patti, going into the refrigerator, began to pull out all of the unfinished dishes.
“Your mother thinks you and John had sex last night,” Patti said shaking her head.
“Well, that’s because we did.”
“What?”
“Patricia,” Denise began, entering the kitchen, “do you need any help in here?”
“Ah...” Patti looked to Jackie whose mouth had been open and beginning to speak, “No, Denise. Thanks, Denise.”
“Well, really. Come all the way to be a little help, and there’s nothing to do.”
“If it helps, I heard Father Jeff saying he needed help now that Liz doesn’t live with him,” Jackie said.
“Why would Tom’s old girlfriend live with a priest?” Denise demanded.
“Different Liz,” Jackie said.
“And how did you remember that bitch?” Patti asked, offended.
“Well, that’s where I’m going, then,” Denise said before Patti could tell her Jackie wasn’t serious, and smiling, Patti’s sister left the kitchen.
Patti sat at the kitchen table, her fingers linked in the handle of the coffee mug, staring at nothing.
“Patti? Patricia?”
“Yes,” said Patti. “I’m here, I just don’t know what to say. Do you want me to say anything? Where... where’s my brother?”
“I left him asleep in my bed,” Jackie said, the phrase strange in her own ears.
They heard the front door slam, and voices talking. Jackie grew rigid. Both women were quiet. Jackie heard someone say, “John.”
“I need to go,” Jackie said, rising and heading for the back door.
“Jackie—”
“Later, Patricia,” Jackie said, and was gone.
She was just barely out when John stormed in red faced disheveled, followed by a dazed Thom.
“Where is she?” John hissed at Patti.
Patti, fingers still linked in the handle of the cup, gestured toward the back door.
The boys tried to follow their father, but Patti, with a gentle hand, kept them back as John ran into the driveway after the retreating station wagon.
“Come back here!” he shouted. “You....”
Thom, coming out into the driveway to lay a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder heard the younger man murmur, “Bitch.” as the car screeched down Breckinridge Avenue.
Jeff Ford stretched and blinked, joyous on Christmas morning. The clock said that it was just a little before nine in the morning. He could smell Liz’s cooking and coffee, and this made him so happy he could forgive the fact that Robert Heinz had left town and left him with all the masses for Christmas.
He was coming out of his room when he saw Liz yawning and coming out of hers.
“That smells great,” he told her, before he realized that if Liz was just waking upstairs, she couldn’t very well be cooking downstairs.
“Wow,” said Liz. “Kind of makes you wonder who’s cooking? Doesn’t it?”
Jeff didn’t answer. They were both quiet a few minutes before Jeff said, “I’ll go down first.”
In the back of his mind he was thinking that maybe this was some sort of mad kitchen killer who whipped up marvelous meals before killing priests and abducting their sisters. His mind ran down all sorts of interesting avenues as he entered the dining room with service for three laid out. Liz followed him.
The kitchen door swung open and out came Denise McLlarchlahn with a stack of pancakes.
“Don’t worry,” Denise said, smiling. “There’s more to come. we’re just getting started.”
She put down the pancakes and stuck Jeff Ford in the stomach. “We need to get something in your tummy before you start preaching, Father. Merry Christmas!”
There was a tap at Russell’s door. He said, “Open,” and then realized it wasn’t and crossed the room to turn the handle.
“John,” said Russell. “We were all—”
“Do you need a ride to church? I’ll drive. I’ll let you drive.”
“Uh,” Russell nodded his head. “Yeah, okay.”
“You look nice.”
Russell had on black slacks and a white shirt, plain enough, with a red tie. A black blazer lay draped on the bed, and his very red hair was parted and hanging to his shoulders. He figured it would contrast with the jacket.
“Thanks,” Russell told his uncle, but had to acknowledge. “You don’t. Do you wanna talk?”
John was wearing last night’s jeans and sweater. He looked a little dumbstruck, his thick lips hanging open, his eyes opaque, his hair a bit of a mess.
“No.” he said, distractedly. “Just get ready and be downstairs as soon as possible. Alright?”
“Alright,” Russell said, and shrugged.
“Merry Christmas, Jackie.”
Sharon Kandzierski answered the door.
Noting the confused look on Jaclyn Lewis’s face, Sharon tilted her head and said, “Jaclyn, are you alrright?”
“Is Felice here?”
“We’re all here. I think Felice is in the ktichen.”
No one in the living room acknowledged the white woman, except that Edmund Prince looked up for a second to wonder who she was. In the kitchen, Chayne and Felice were sitting at the table swapping stories with Pethane and Jean, and Mickey was leaning against the refrigerator
“Merry Christmas, Jackie,” said Chayne, a question in his voice.
Felice asked the question after introducing Jackie to Pethane and Jean.
“Girl, what are you doing here?”
“Can you talk for a second?”
Felice’s wide eyes looked around for a seconnd, then she took Jackie by the elbow.
“We can go to Sharon’s room.”
“You can stay right here,” said Chayne. “I need to get over to the church anyway. Come on, family, clear out.”
When they were gone, Jackie held out her hand and said, “Give me a cigarette,” and then they moved to the table and sat down.
“Last night, after Mass—”
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Felice remarked in her deep voice.
“Yes it was,” Jackie skipped over that, lighting her Newport.
“John was being all romantic, and he wanted us to sneak off to my apartment. I said no. We went back to Thom and Patti’s. you know, with the family. Then we went walking, had a snow ball fight. Went back to my place, talked a lot, drank cider—and liquor and started to kiss. And it felt so good. I think John’s only kissed me once, and it was... before Russell was born. It just felt so good. This man I’ve wanted for over half my life. And we thought we should stop, but I didn’t want to... You know? I just wanted to throw caution to the wind—”
“Oh, my God,” Felice barked, clasping her hands together in joy. “:You fucked him!”
Jackie’s mouth flew open and then she gave her friend a withering glance.
“I—we made... love.”
“Call it what you will, why are you here all crazy and distressed?”
“Oh my God,” Jackie took a final drag off the cigarette. “It was so—good! It was so the way I would have imagined it if I dared to imagine having sex with John. It was the most wonderful time of my life. I had wanted to let go with him for a long time, and we let go.”
“I bet you did.”
“Would you not!”
“I’m just trying to be a friend.”
“But when I woke up this morning it was different.”
“It was real.”
Jackie, quiet, squinted her eyes in scrutiny of that and then nodded and said, “Yeah. It was real, and I couldn’t believe what I had done. I couldn’t face it. I still can’t face it. I mean, I really care about John, but... I... I wish now that it hadn’t have happened.”
“Well does Patricia know?”
Jackie nodded.
“What did she say?”
“Not much. After I told her and was about to start talking, John came back in the house.”
“And?”
“And then I ran away.”
Felice cocked her head at her friend in disbelief.
“You mean to tell me you’ve spent all Christmas morning running from this man?”
Jackie didn’t answer.
“Jackie! Jaclyn!”
“I was....” Jackie played with her hands, “afraid.”
Felice was quiet a while. Finally she spoke.
“Jaclyn, you never fu—you never had sex with Chip did you?” Felice said.
“No,” Jackie shook her head. “That was one of the things he complained about.”
“You never... had it with anyone. Did you?”
Jackie shook her head.
“Oh my God,” Felice shook her own head. “This is one hell of a Christmas Present.”
MORE TOMORROW
“Hold still, Thom!” Frank said, taking a swig from his coffee. “Stick out your chin a little more. The boy’s a Michelangelo, isn’t he, Patricia?”
“That’s why I married him, Dad,” Patti sat down at the kitchen table, pulling the housecoat closer.
“Thomas, stop smirking,” Frank said.
“Oh, leave the boy alone,” Sara said, coming into the kitchen.
“When are we going to open presents!” Russell demanded coming down the back stairs. Behind him Uncle John’s boys chanted, “Presents! Presents!”
“Restraint in everything, Russell!” Thom said.
“Thom!” Frank reprimanded his son-in-law for talking.
“Good morning and Merry Christmas to you too, son,” Patti said, reaching up to swat the back of Russell’s head.
“I think Russell’s got a point,” Sara decided. “When I was a little girl we’d open presents right after Midnight Mass. The suspense is killing me. Let’s open now.”
` At this John’s three sons began to cheer before Patti said, “But everyone’s not up yet.”
“Well, let’s wake ‘em.”
Frank stopped painting.
“You care if we stop for a while?”
“Ah?” Thom looked as if he were hesitating in is answer. He smiled brightly.
“Not at all. Well, Russ, go up and wake John. I’m surprised you didn’t wake him up when you were getting out of bed.”
“John didn’t stay in my room,” Russell said.
Thom and Patti both eyed him, and then turned their gazes on each other.
“He... ah...” Patti stumbled over her words. “He and Jackie... stopped...left after coffee... went to play...”
“In the snow,” Thom finished her sentence.
“Yes,” said Patti. “The snow.”
“Where’s Daddy!” Tommy asked Russell, tugging at the other boy’s housecoat.
“Probably just talking with Jackie,” Sara said. “They probably talked all night long.”
Thom raised an eyebrow at his mother in law.
“Dawlings!” They heard Kathleen before she arrived at the base of the stairs, followed by the vacant eyed Chase, a new and, in Tom’s estimate, entirely two young companion.
“We were about to open presents,” Sara started, “but we can’t find John.”
“He and Jackie slipped off last night,” Frank elaborated, putting up the paints and moving the easel from the center of the kitchen. “and neither of them has come back since.”
“Oh, marvelous,” Kathleen cried, clasping her hands together, “That means they finally had sex!”
“What’s that?” Tommy and Russ both demanded, screwing up their little faces and looking at their namesakes in confusion.
Thom and Russell looked to each other, Russell made a conciliatory gesture to his father who said, “Something that there’s been a whole lot too much of in this house for the last few holidays.”
“If you ask me there hasn’t been enough,” Kathleen differed, making her way to the coffee pot.
Thom, Frank, Patti, Russell, Sara and Kathleen and the boys made their way to the living room.
Russell said, “I have to sing at ten o’clock Mass,” and Thom said they’d better start opening presents immediately then while Patti said, “Make it quick ‘cause we need to put dinner in the oven.”
“Chase, dear, would you go upstairs with Russell to wake up the others,” Kathleen asked, and Russell felt strange walking up the stairs beside someone whom, when he snuck side glances at him looked to be about twenty.
“I work at Pizza Hut,” Chase said by way of introduction as they came upstairs. “What do you do?”
“I work for the CIA. I’m actually forty-five years old.”
Russell stopped to knock on his Aunt Kristin’s door while Chase stood and looked at him in amazement.
“Really?” Chase marveled.
Russell looked at him, dumfounded.
“No.” he said.
The tree was high and green, touching the ceiling and clothed in silver tinsil and red bows, its green smelling branches hanging dark over the mass of presents, so many, so well wrapped in red and gold, in green, in stripes, in ribbons. With such a large group there were many presents. Then, as made sense with therr only being four children in the family, and only one of them being over five years old, the bulk of them fell to Russell. For some reason this always put a strange stress on him when, after holding back for so long, suddenly the tree was his. He was the only person in the house that everyone gave a presents to. One mother, one father, three uncles, three aunts, three grandparents, none giving gifts as couples, some giving more than one gift.
Thom and Patti, even at their worst and most depressed never spared expense on their only child.
This year three huge journals like ledgers, with hard covers that would take months to fill, felt pens to go with them—this from Patti. It was not the only present, but the one he liked best, that and a hardbound set of The Lord of the Rings.
Thom got three things, none of them in boxes. The first was two hundred dollars out of his wallet so that Russell could “Get himself what he really wanted to wear,” the next was—strange coming from Thom (or anyone) a large cedar chest to go at the foot of his bed. The last was in the hall closet and Thom maneuvered Russell toward it, pretending his son’s shoulders were a stirring wheel and crying, cheerfully, “This way, to the right, vroom vroom. Screech,” as they approached the closet.
Russell opened it.
“Dad!”
“If you don’t like it, I’ll—well, I can’t very well take it back can I?”
“No, Dad,” Russell’s voice was smaller as he marveled over it, lifting it up. “No, I love it. But I can’t play it.”
“Jackie can teach you,” Thom told him. “Half the family can teach you.”
“You can teach me!”
“Aw Russ, I don’t—what?”
Thom caught an almost horrified look in his son’s eyes as Russell murmured, “Thomas Lewis ’75.”
“If you wanted your own instead I—” Thom started, but Russell leapt up and threw his arms around his father, burying his red head in the older man’s shoulder.
“Russell... Russell,” Thom said. He was about to say, “Enough,” when he realized that this was a small miracle and let his son embrace him, even if the boy was almost bigger than him and the embrace was going to knock him to the ground.
Suddenly the door opened on the seen of filial bliss, and Jackie came into the house, looking red and petrified.
Thom and Russell separated.
“Welcome,” started Thom, “Jaclyn.”
“Where’s John?” Sara demanded aloud.
“Patti,” Jackie said, ignoring John’s mother, “I need to talk to you. Now.”
“Should we wait until—?” Patti began.
“Now.”
“Very well,” Patti stood up and announced, “Part two of the opening of presents will take place… later on. Right now Jaclyn Dara Lewis and I are going to begin the Christmas Dinner and my son, Russell Fennian Lewis is going to get dressed for ten a.m. Mass.”
“Alright,” Russell said. “Thanks Mom, Thanks Dad.”
He ran halfway up the stairs before remembering the guitar, running back down, throwing his arms around short Thom again, then running back up with his instrument.
“Do you need us to help?” Kristin and Kathleen entered the kitchen.
“Not... right now?” Jackie said.
“Well if you ever need to talk...” Kristin left the rest off, putting her hand to the swinging door and preparing to return to the living room.
“Or if you need any tips about sex—”
“:Mother!” Kristin reprimanded, grabbing Kathleen’s arm.
“She’s such a prude—” started Kathleen as her daughter hauled her out of the kitchen.
Patti, going into the refrigerator, began to pull out all of the unfinished dishes.
“Your mother thinks you and John had sex last night,” Patti said shaking her head.
“Well, that’s because we did.”
“What?”
“Patricia,” Denise began, entering the kitchen, “do you need any help in here?”
“Ah...” Patti looked to Jackie whose mouth had been open and beginning to speak, “No, Denise. Thanks, Denise.”
“Well, really. Come all the way to be a little help, and there’s nothing to do.”
“If it helps, I heard Father Jeff saying he needed help now that Liz doesn’t live with him,” Jackie said.
“Why would Tom’s old girlfriend live with a priest?” Denise demanded.
“Different Liz,” Jackie said.
“And how did you remember that bitch?” Patti asked, offended.
“Well, that’s where I’m going, then,” Denise said before Patti could tell her Jackie wasn’t serious, and smiling, Patti’s sister left the kitchen.
Patti sat at the kitchen table, her fingers linked in the handle of the coffee mug, staring at nothing.
“Patti? Patricia?”
“Yes,” said Patti. “I’m here, I just don’t know what to say. Do you want me to say anything? Where... where’s my brother?”
“I left him asleep in my bed,” Jackie said, the phrase strange in her own ears.
They heard the front door slam, and voices talking. Jackie grew rigid. Both women were quiet. Jackie heard someone say, “John.”
“I need to go,” Jackie said, rising and heading for the back door.
“Jackie—”
“Later, Patricia,” Jackie said, and was gone.
She was just barely out when John stormed in red faced disheveled, followed by a dazed Thom.
“Where is she?” John hissed at Patti.
Patti, fingers still linked in the handle of the cup, gestured toward the back door.
The boys tried to follow their father, but Patti, with a gentle hand, kept them back as John ran into the driveway after the retreating station wagon.
“Come back here!” he shouted. “You....”
Thom, coming out into the driveway to lay a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder heard the younger man murmur, “Bitch.” as the car screeched down Breckinridge Avenue.
Jeff Ford stretched and blinked, joyous on Christmas morning. The clock said that it was just a little before nine in the morning. He could smell Liz’s cooking and coffee, and this made him so happy he could forgive the fact that Robert Heinz had left town and left him with all the masses for Christmas.
He was coming out of his room when he saw Liz yawning and coming out of hers.
“That smells great,” he told her, before he realized that if Liz was just waking upstairs, she couldn’t very well be cooking downstairs.
“Wow,” said Liz. “Kind of makes you wonder who’s cooking? Doesn’t it?”
Jeff didn’t answer. They were both quiet a few minutes before Jeff said, “I’ll go down first.”
In the back of his mind he was thinking that maybe this was some sort of mad kitchen killer who whipped up marvelous meals before killing priests and abducting their sisters. His mind ran down all sorts of interesting avenues as he entered the dining room with service for three laid out. Liz followed him.
The kitchen door swung open and out came Denise McLlarchlahn with a stack of pancakes.
“Don’t worry,” Denise said, smiling. “There’s more to come. we’re just getting started.”
She put down the pancakes and stuck Jeff Ford in the stomach. “We need to get something in your tummy before you start preaching, Father. Merry Christmas!”
There was a tap at Russell’s door. He said, “Open,” and then realized it wasn’t and crossed the room to turn the handle.
“John,” said Russell. “We were all—”
“Do you need a ride to church? I’ll drive. I’ll let you drive.”
“Uh,” Russell nodded his head. “Yeah, okay.”
“You look nice.”
Russell had on black slacks and a white shirt, plain enough, with a red tie. A black blazer lay draped on the bed, and his very red hair was parted and hanging to his shoulders. He figured it would contrast with the jacket.
“Thanks,” Russell told his uncle, but had to acknowledge. “You don’t. Do you wanna talk?”
John was wearing last night’s jeans and sweater. He looked a little dumbstruck, his thick lips hanging open, his eyes opaque, his hair a bit of a mess.
“No.” he said, distractedly. “Just get ready and be downstairs as soon as possible. Alright?”
“Alright,” Russell said, and shrugged.
“Merry Christmas, Jackie.”
Sharon Kandzierski answered the door.
Noting the confused look on Jaclyn Lewis’s face, Sharon tilted her head and said, “Jaclyn, are you alrright?”
“Is Felice here?”
“We’re all here. I think Felice is in the ktichen.”
No one in the living room acknowledged the white woman, except that Edmund Prince looked up for a second to wonder who she was. In the kitchen, Chayne and Felice were sitting at the table swapping stories with Pethane and Jean, and Mickey was leaning against the refrigerator
“Merry Christmas, Jackie,” said Chayne, a question in his voice.
Felice asked the question after introducing Jackie to Pethane and Jean.
“Girl, what are you doing here?”
“Can you talk for a second?”
Felice’s wide eyes looked around for a seconnd, then she took Jackie by the elbow.
“We can go to Sharon’s room.”
“You can stay right here,” said Chayne. “I need to get over to the church anyway. Come on, family, clear out.”
When they were gone, Jackie held out her hand and said, “Give me a cigarette,” and then they moved to the table and sat down.
“Last night, after Mass—”
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Felice remarked in her deep voice.
“Yes it was,” Jackie skipped over that, lighting her Newport.
“John was being all romantic, and he wanted us to sneak off to my apartment. I said no. We went back to Thom and Patti’s. you know, with the family. Then we went walking, had a snow ball fight. Went back to my place, talked a lot, drank cider—and liquor and started to kiss. And it felt so good. I think John’s only kissed me once, and it was... before Russell was born. It just felt so good. This man I’ve wanted for over half my life. And we thought we should stop, but I didn’t want to... You know? I just wanted to throw caution to the wind—”
“Oh, my God,” Felice barked, clasping her hands together in joy. “:You fucked him!”
Jackie’s mouth flew open and then she gave her friend a withering glance.
“I—we made... love.”
“Call it what you will, why are you here all crazy and distressed?”
“Oh my God,” Jackie took a final drag off the cigarette. “It was so—good! It was so the way I would have imagined it if I dared to imagine having sex with John. It was the most wonderful time of my life. I had wanted to let go with him for a long time, and we let go.”
“I bet you did.”
“Would you not!”
“I’m just trying to be a friend.”
“But when I woke up this morning it was different.”
“It was real.”
Jackie, quiet, squinted her eyes in scrutiny of that and then nodded and said, “Yeah. It was real, and I couldn’t believe what I had done. I couldn’t face it. I still can’t face it. I mean, I really care about John, but... I... I wish now that it hadn’t have happened.”
“Well does Patricia know?”
Jackie nodded.
“What did she say?”
“Not much. After I told her and was about to start talking, John came back in the house.”
“And?”
“And then I ran away.”
Felice cocked her head at her friend in disbelief.
“You mean to tell me you’ve spent all Christmas morning running from this man?”
Jackie didn’t answer.
“Jackie! Jaclyn!”
“I was....” Jackie played with her hands, “afraid.”
Felice was quiet a while. Finally she spoke.
“Jaclyn, you never fu—you never had sex with Chip did you?” Felice said.
“No,” Jackie shook her head. “That was one of the things he complained about.”
“You never... had it with anyone. Did you?”
Jackie shook her head.
“Oh my God,” Felice shook her own head. “This is one hell of a Christmas Present.”
MORE TOMORROW
