Page 41 of All in December
When we’re finally out of our layers and ready to leave, he turns to face me. I want to kiss him again, but since wearen’t there yet with the kids around, I settle for the next best thing and pull him forward into me.
“I’ll text you when we’re back,” I murmur in his ear, quickly pressing a discreet kiss to his cheek.
He nods. “Please do.”
My chest tightens as I watch him walk away from me to get into his car. I pull out of the parking lot first, and he follows right behind me, as we once again make our way back to reality.
I’m trying to shift my brain back into regular parent mode, but my fingers are still tingling from where they touched him, and I catch myself replaying last night and our conversations. I hate that Caleb has had to hide so much of himself in this life, and I know there’s more he hasn’t said, but I don’t want to rush him.
Things were so different for me. I was in college when I hooked up with Brock, a guy from my communications class. There’d been some growing tension between us, and one night when we were drunk, I went back to his apartment with him, and we hooked up. I liked it enough that we did it a few more times, too.
And I was lucky, really lucky, because when I came out, I was met with nothing but love. I told my parents I was bi over Christmas break that year, and my mom hugged me, and my dad told me I was still the same person, just with more options. I had a feeling they’d be that way, which is why I knew I’d be okay sharing that part of me with them even though I was still nervous at the time.
When I went back to school for the spring semester that year, I met Tess, and we’d become inseparable. I told her about Brock, so there were no secrets between us, and she was completely cool with it too.
My sexuality has never been a secret for me because it didn’t have to be, and I’m well aware not everyone is that lucky.
Knowing Caleb didn’t have that same support makes me so angry. No one should have to feel unsafe in their own skin for loving who they love. And if I can be someone who makes it even a little easier for him to breathe, to exist, to explore… then I want to be that person. I want to walk beside him while he finds the version of himself that feels most like home. I just hope that version includes me.
“Dad! Look!” Benji shouts, breaking through my thoughts. I notice a hand-painted wooden sign staked into a snowbank.
Cut-Your-Own Tree Lot. Five Miles Ahead.
I glance in the rearview mirror at the kids, who are looking at me excitedly.
“You want to cut down our Christmas tree here?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“I want to!” Benji shouts.
“Me too!” Emma piggybacks.
“Perfect, let’s do it! Thanks for pointing that out, bud. Let me make a quick call to see if Caleb and Sam want to join us.”
I tap Caleb’s name on the car screen in front of me and hit the call button. It rings once before I hear his perfect voice.
“Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“How would you feel about going with us to cut down a Christmas tree? We just passed a sign for one five miles down the road.”
“I wanna go! Please, Dad!” I hear Sam say, followed by Caleb’s laugh, knowing his phone must be on speaker too.
“Yeah, it sounds like we’ll meet you there,” he confirms in a warm tone.
“Can’t wait, see you in a few minutes,” I say eagerly.
Before I went rogue and booked the cabin, the plan had been to get our Christmas tree this weekend—drive out, find the perfect one, cut it down, then head home to decorate it with the Emma-approved Christmas playlist. I figured they’d be bummed when I told them we were delaying it, but there were no complaints when I surprised them with the trip, which is why it feels like the perfect way to end the weekend. We’ll stop for a tree, bring it home, string up the lights, and maybe—if I’m lucky—I can convince Caleb and Sam to decorate with us too. I love it when a sporadic plan falls into place.
I glance back at the kids as I pull into the small gravel lot. There are more hand-painted signs and rows of Christmas trees dusted in snow. The kids perk up the second we park, and I help Emma get out. A minute later, Caleb pulls up beside us and steps out, his hair still messy from his helmet.
“Glad you wanted to do this with us,” I say as he approaches.
“Anything for more time with you,” he whispers before raising his voice. “Sam was clearly excited.”
“We’ve never done this,” Sam adds on, making his way toward where Benji is starting to take off toward the trees.
“Hey, Benj, let’s go check in first.”
He sighs, as expected, but follows us over to the small check-in booth with Emma and Sam. It’s a little red shack with string lights, a chalkboard menu offering hot chocolate, cider, and mini donuts, with a couple of bundled-up teenagers sitting nearly on top of the propanespace heater.
