Page 23 of Plunge

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Fletcher

WHEN I SHOW up at my parents’ house in the late afternoon, the whole thing is locked up tight and the windows are all dark. I can’t even remember a time my parents ever locked the door, so I’m feeling disoriented. I try everyone’s cell phone and every call goes straight to voicemail.

I’m a hot minute away from thinking I’ve fallen into a Jimmy Stewart movie when I remember that Abigail’s in the hospital. “Fuck me,” I mutter, starting to worry.

I figure Archer is the most likely to be at his house, so I head over and pandemonium ensues. I burst in his back door to find him cradling a sobbing woman on the kitchen floor—evidently the woman he’s been pining over.

“What in good god is going on with this family,” I shout. “Seriously,” I say, looking at the cat moaning on the floor by Archer. “Where is everyone?”

This disorientation I’m feeling reminds me how removed I’ve been from everyone’s lives. When they video chat with me at holidays, they’re all together, yelling, talking over each other. I forget that the time in between those moments is complicated.

I’ve kept myself in a permanent state of “hermit”…just on beaches and banging girls on vacation instead of holed up in the woods.

Archer looks up at me and his expression melts with relief.

“Fletcher! Yes!” My brother springs to his feet and grabs my bags out of my hands, tossing them across the kitchen. Archer grabs me by the shoulders and says, “You’re gonna be the Claus, man. I gotta go save this cat and Opal has to go catch Hunter’s baby.”

I step back toward the door, reeling at the onslaught of meaningless words coming out of my brother’s mouth. He murmurs to his lady that she can go to work and he vows he’s going to handle everything else.

My easygoing brother is taking charge and delegating. The woman—Opal—starts crying again, but looks happier, and she rushes out of the house while Archer is mumbling to me about putting on the Santa suit.

I forgot about the Oak Creek Claus, a tradition in this town dating back over 100 years or something like that. Every Christmas, someone dresses like Santa and visits basically every house in the town. The people hand the Claus a gift to go take to the sleeping kids. Archer’s been the Claus for the past zillion years or something like that since the last old geezer retired from duty.

“Are you high,” I ask my brother, as he runs around the kitchen muttering about Abigail in labor. I still can’t get past the image of my brother lovingly cradling a woman in his arms in his house, with a pet.

For years I’ve been telling myself that all this messy shit that comes along with living close to family is nothing but a pain in the ass. But seeing Archer’s face, I get confused again. He seems…fulfilled somehow. Even in the middle of a crisis.

After Opal leaves, he starts coaxing the cat into a carrier and grabs my arm, dragging me into his truck while he speeds off toward the vet.

“Ok,” he says. “Here’s what’s going on. Opal is my girlfriend. She’s sort of living here. She works as a midwife. Abigail’s in labor. Opal’s cat ate a poisonous plant. I’m going to take care of the cat, Opal’s going to take care of the baby, you’re going to fill in as the Claus, and we’ll all meet back at my place later.”

He screeches into the vet parking lot and leaves the truck running as he grabs the cat carrier from behind the seat. He points to the decorative red sack in the back seat, where I can see a white beard poking out the top. He gives me a salute and runs inside with the cat.

And just like that, in one weird, swift hour, I’m plunged back into the cooky heart of this town and all the things that made me want to get the hell out of here initially. All the people I’ve been avoiding for the past ten years? Yeah, I’m going to their houses tonight to hand presents to their kids.

I sigh and step into the suit, remembering last Christmas Eve when I was high with some chick and nearly missed my flight home, getting a blowie in the airport bathroom. I can’t really say that was better for my self esteem.

This all just reminds me that the glamorous life I created for myself is going up in flames, but all this shit with my family tonight makes me wonder if I was actually living my best life anyway.

The first few houses on the list are people I don’t even recognize. They must be new in town, working at the college or looking to commute to either Philly or New York. They shake my hand, smile when they hear my last name, and hand me toys to surprise their kids.

It’s nice.

The next house is MJ Torrato’s place, a guy I used to run track with. He’s apparently got a wife and twin sons now. “Fletcher??” His eyes bug out of his head when he sees it’s me tapping on the door.

“Yeah, man, long time no see.” He doesn’t go for a hug, and I say a small prayer of thanks for that. I’m not in the mood to hug all these people. I’ll take the handshakes, though.

He claps me on the back after I make his kids’ dreams come true. It’s weird to see Torrato with a family, not goofing off in his spandex singlet. “You sticking around this time or back off to wherever?”

I sigh. “Hey, I’ll catch you later, ok? I gotta hit like 100 more houses.”

“Oh sure, sure. Hey, seriously. Thanks for doing this tonight. The kids are going to love this. Remember when the Claus would come for us, man?” He gets a far off look in his eye for a minute and then shakes my hand again. I trot off down the road, hurrying to the next house. And the one after that.

Thankfully, none of the parents of my old classmates are on this list. I realize that, of course, they’re grandparents now and won’t have small kids at home waiting for a visit from Santa. I make my way through the route pretty quickly and am feeling good about myself by the time the 50th kid has hugged me and told me I’m the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to them.

I can kind of admit this is more of a buzz than illegal substances. I get why my brother enjoys doing this every year.

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