Page 63 of Season of Gifts

Henryhadn’tmentionedtheiranniversary.

Jay stared into the blinding white emptiness of the fridge, the door chilling his face as he sagged.Henry would want him to eat something healthy.His stomach just wanted him to eat.

Tuesday wasn’t Tuesday anymore.No chatting with Mrs.Eickhoff, no lunch with Alice.He’d holed up in his office and worked the day straight through, because the more paperwork he finished, the easier it would be to jump when Henry said go.But Henry hadn’t said go.He’d definitely saidred, or maybeyellow, but either way, Jay was cooling his heels until Saturday.And that was if Alice was home by then.

And today was only Tuesday.

He shoved the fridge shut, his stomach rethinking the whole eating plan.Sure, he’d skipped lunch, but he’d snacked on like three nutty raisin bars since breakfast.And he hadn’t biked anywhere but the office and back, so it wasn’t like his body needed the energy anyway.What would he use it for?He didn’t even have a gift calendar activity to complete tonight.

Flipping his back to the fridge front, he thumbed the audio message icon again.

My loves, I’m terribly sorry for my silence today.Mother had an episode overnight, and we’ve been at the hospital most of the day.Though we are home again now, I am regrettably exhausted and expect bedtime will arrive soon after supper, so if you will permit me, I will forgo our later check-in.I know you are both quite capable of organizing yourselves in my absence.Today’s setback has delayed our timetable for nursing care, and as I must still interview candidates, I suggest we wait and see what the week holds before planning any travel.I suspect Saturday is the earliest we might bring you both up for the holidays, assuming Alice has returned from her trip.I love you, my dear ones, and I joyfully anticipate having you both in my arms once more.

A text message from Alice popped in below Henry’s.Of course, Henry, you should do what’s best for you and Mother.I hope she’s doing well now.Heading out to a business dinner.My love to you both!

A separate message arrived in their just-them thread.Sweetheart, I’m so sorry Maine is a no-go for now.I don’t know when I’ll be back from dinner, but I’ll check my messages then if you need to talk.Go out and do something fun, okay?At least one of us should be enjoying the season.

Go out and do something fun.

Just celebrate their one-month anniversary alone, why didn’t he?Seeing as he was the only one who even remembered the date.Because it was no big deal, obviously.Henry didn’t want his service—exhausted, staying up all night and day with his mom, looking after everything himself when Jay was a singlecome hereaway.No, his contract didn’t say “take the train to another state and help me look after my mom while she’s sick,” but what the actual fuck.In sickness and in health, that was the deal.But Alice backed Henry, so they must be right, and Jay just wasn’t useful to either of them at all, in any way.

Scanning down the list of recents—after Henry and Alice were various groups of Ollie, Nat, Becky, Charlie, Tyler, Avery.Fuck.He’d barely started looking through the photo gallery Avery had sent.Henry had gotten the call about his mom, and the whole wedding album thing had dropped straight out of Jay’s head.

Couldn’t do that without Henry and Alice’s input, either.

“Fuck this fucking month!”

Even his shout couldn’t fill the emptiness.He stalked past the bows and swags and the unlit Christmas tree, up the stairs and into the bedroom that barely smelled of anyone but him now.The pillows no longer held Henry and Alice’s scents.He dragged on an old pair of jeans and tossed a sweatshirt overtop—a red one, as far from Henry-green as he could get, and a warning to everyone around him to leave him the fuck alone.His friends didn’t need to suffer through his tantrum, but he could at least go someplace familiar.Someplace with lights and noise and none of the crushing weight that made his legs so heavy.

Keys, wallet, jacket, helmet—he hoisted the bike down from its hooks and rolled out the door, back into the biting wind.

Eightish blocks barely counted as a ride, even in December darkness and rush hour traffic.But the chill scraped his cheeks, and he’d forgotten his gloves, so he peeled numb fingers from the handlebars as he bent to lock up beside the black iron railing.

He jogged down the steps and into the rumbling voices of The Cap & Feather.The place was loaded—holiday shoppers stopping for dinner, probably, because Tuesday wasn’t a big club night, and it was just past seven o’clock.Their usual booth down the long L was taken.Which didn’t matter, because he wasn’t here to sit in more emptiness, and who would give a four-seater to a single anyway?

Grabbing one of the handful of open slots at the bar, he slung his coat around the seatback and sat.The mirror behind the bar showed practically the whole room, all the smiling faces, the coy glances, the fingers laced across tabletops.Whatever.He could amuse himself.He dipped a hand into his pocket—no phone.Sitting on the kitchen counter where he’d left it, probably.

He nabbed a bar napkin and unfolded it into a larger square.Too thin and soft, really, for decent folding paper.But it gave his hands something to do.

“Hey, I know that face.”Behind the bar, Amelia spread her arms wide, hands on the edge, and leaned toward him with her head tipped.“Jay, what can I get you?Are you the advance scout?I can see about a table—”

“Just me tonight, thanks.Bar’s fine.”Did the cat fold back or forward next?He should remember; he’d made a couple dozen for Alice.“A burger or whatever.Iced tea, sweet, please.”

“Sure, sure.Coming right up.You hang tight.”

The tea arrived fast, in a skinny glass with a cherry on a sword across the top, and Amelia slid a stack of napkins closer to his seat.

His creation kind of resembled a cat.The jump lever didn’t work—not enough stiffness in the napkin.He could waste a bunch more trying, or he could admit failure.Should’ve planned better.

Chewing the sugared cherry, he closed his eyes and listened.A woman complained about not having enough time—less than eight days to Christmas.A man warned his kids to knock it off, and the background rhythm of metallic clinks disappeared.A younger voice, could be male or female, thready with excitement:I got in!Can you believe it?

He shouldn’t need to eavesdrop on other people’s lives to make his whole.He and Danny had talked about finding purpose inside himself, the spark of his own, something deeper than pleasing people.Henry had helped give him that, ages ago, with the messenger service.Completing a job, bringing people their stuff, that was feeding off their happiness, yeah.But the riding itself, the freedom to choose his own routes and be outdoors and moving all day, that was just for him.

He'd been stupid—no, what would Danny say?Misguided.He’d been misguided to sit at his desk all day.Paperwork sucked the energy out of him and filled him up with mopiness.That wasn’t the feeling he needed, not when normally he’d be getting ready to go up to the farm this week.Surrounding himself with nieces and nephews who adored him, and parents and siblings who—tolerated him.Found chores for him.He’d always gotten through two weeks away from Henry by keeping all the other people he loved close.But Peggy had tainted those memories now.They weren’t what he’d thought they were.And strangers around him chattering about their lives couldn’t replace the comfort of knowing someone, anyone, cared about him.

Rustling on his right side; the seat must be getting a new owner.If he kept his eyes closed, maybe he wouldn’t need to greet them.Was that rude?He was awful today.An awful person.He should’ve been supportive, like Alice, and sent love and wishes for Mom’s recovery.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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