(no subject)
I didn't get around to making an official Christmas post. It's not Christmas anymore. But I DO have Christmas fic. Why the hell not? :)
I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday, and for anyone not subscribing to the Christian faith, well--I'm a rotten, no-good skeptic of everything spiritual. Doesn't mean I sat at home bitching about religion, not when there's food, friends, family and other fun to jump into. In the end, it's what keeps us sane when it's too cold to live, amirite?
So yesterday was my naeminess, chock full of that good ol' ebul she craves. Today, it's holiday fluff, Torrin!fic style. Hope you enjoy!
~*~BELATED-BUT-LOTSA-♥♥♥-TO ALL!~*~
Title: He's Just Like You: Kiki
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, future!fic
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke gets his hopes up, then down, then up, then down, then up for good.
December 22nd
Zeke's telling himself 'you're used to this', over and over again, wasn't helping this time. It showed in how concentrated he'd become in chores, doing one after the other in the last hour and a half. He needed something other than the living room's holiday-cheer décor, complete with the Charlie Brown Christmas Special playing on the TV that Torrin was watching with Casey. Zeke had planned on joining them, but it would've hurt too much. The dishes needed to be done to make room for Casey's holiday bake-a-thon, anyway, and in finishing that chore, Zeke had figured a good top-to-bottom scrub-down of the kitchen itself wasn't unwarranted.
He'd just gotten to a kneel on the counter to dust the top of the shelves when Casey came in. In the corner of his eye, Zeke saw him go to the fridge, grab the handle then stop dead to stare at him. Zeke paused to look back. “What?”
“Uh... what're you doing?” Casey asked.
“Dusting.”
“Uh... huh,” Casey hesitantly replied, an eyebrow cocked. “When was the last time we did that?”
“Going by what I've found... probably never,” Zeke said. He made a small smirk as he showed off the first paper towel he'd dragged across the first cabinet. The deep, murky black and gray grossness of it made Casey snarl.
“Ew.”
“Yea, see?” Zeke returned to the task; at his next swipe of a new towel, he felt something bump his knuckles. He blindly reached for whatever it was and brought it down. “Hey... lookit that.”
“What?” Casey moved closer and raised his eyebrows. “I don't remember owning a hand-mixer.”
“It must've been left by the previous owners of the house.”
“What, ten years ago?”
Zeke chuckled and handed it to Casey. “Merry early Chrimbo,” he said.
“Um, great. A dusty, scrungy kitchen tool...” Casey replied, but chuckled also as he brought it to the sink.
“Wash it down, that's a classic; nice sturdy metal. We always talk about modern day appliances being cheap plastic shit,” Zeke said.
“Yea,” Casey said. He did indeed turn the water on and grab a Brillo-pad to scrub it. Zeke continued his rampant chore-hounding in shimmying down to the next cabinet, spraying more cleaner as he went. It was silent between them until Casey shut the water off, placed the mixer in the dish-rack and sighed, saying, “I know what's going on.”
“What?”
“Why you're doing this.”
Zeke bit down on his lower lip and shrugged. “I'm just cleaning the place up. I gotta do more in the kitchen, anyway,” he replied.
“Zeke... I'm sorry,” Casey said, his voice soft as he moved to lean on the counter Zeke was kneeling on. “It was really shitty of her to do what she did.”
“My mom? I already said, I'm used to it.”
“Zeke.”
“I am.” Zeke stopped wiping and spraying to look down at his husband. “It doesn't matter.”
“I'm not saying 'sorry' just for her. I...” Casey stopped dead a moment to sigh and turn, slumping onto his crossed arms as he went on, “...I just wanted you to give her that chance. Y'know? The fact that it was her calling you, wanting to visit for Christmas and FI-nally meet her grandson, and... I'd just wanted to hope, more for your sake than anything else.”
The idea of dusting seemed so annoying now. Zeke knew they were going to end up talking about this, because if there was one thing Casey loved doing, it was talking-especially when it came to 'feelings'. It'd been something Zeke had gotten used to and even participated in, instead of dismissing it as 'no, it's nothing, don't worry,' when he knew he finally had someone in his life that he could trust with those feelings and emotions. It wasn't all Casey, either; he was a father now, and if he truly wanted to be better than HIS absentee dad, he needed to be more open and honest. Seeing as he'd started this nasty job and it would look bad if he didn't finish, he continued the chore but decided to give it up in saying, “I know. That's why I kept telling you, don't expect anything that great or wonderful, like she's suddenly gonna work on being the best mom and-or grandma of the year. I don't wanna get Torrin all mixed-up in that crap. Believe me, it stings.”
“You can say it,” Casey said.
“Say what?”
“'I told you so'.”
Zeke smirked a little, made quick work of the last cabinet then worked his way back down. He tossed the used and abused paper towels in the trash then grabbed two beers from the fridge. One was handed to Casey; after they were opened and a few gulps were taken by both of them, Zeke smacked his lips and sighed. “I won't lie. When she got off the plane and we all met up... I had this moment of wild-wonder and hope, y'know? She did seem different, in a way. The smile she was wearing when she gave Torrin a hug, saying, 'I'm finally meeting my grandbaby!' and what-not, it was like... different,” he said. “It made some sense to me. I remember her always being bitter about her mom, how she'd always been cold to her growing up... but when I came along, she turned into this lovey-dovey grandma, doting on me, whatever. But instead of being bitter, I kept thinking of how neat it'd be if she was this awesome grandma to Torrin. Like... she'd make some shit up to me, doing that.”
“Yea. I get it,” Casey said.
“But I had to keep him safe, telling him that she can't wait to meet him, already loves him-but not to expect anything. He's only four, but he gets it. He's smart. At the same time, I didn't wanna screw him up, and... god, I don't friggin' know.” Zeke took another swig from the bottle then stared at the label for a handful of moments before continuing, “She couldn't even stay 'til Christmas Eve. Friends she hasn't seen in years need her more than me, I guess. 'I know, I'm sorry, but with the holidays and everything, switching flights and changing plans is hard, gotta take what I can get, yadda, yadda...' Sorry we don't live in New York City minutes away from classy restaurants and boutiques...”
Casey's brow furrowed with sympathy as he turned, leaned on his hip and placed a hand on Zeke's upper arm. He rubbed it lightly as he spoke, “She doesn't get it. Probably won't ever get it. But that's not your fault, it's her's.”
“Doesn't make it hurt any less,” Zeke said. Acknowledging that, here and now, made his eyes sting. After so many years, so many goddamned disappointments, it still hurt when it happened-maybe moreso, now that there was another little life involved. Zeke looked to the archway leading out of the kitchen, wondering what was going through Torrin's mind. “Is he okay?”
“Torrin, about Grandma taking off? Hah, yea. He said he liked being with her, shopping, the stuff she got him... but it's not as if she's always been around and always letting him down. He didn't expect anything, thanks to you,” Casey said.
“I still feel like a shit.”
“Why?”
“Because, I know what he expected. Where do we usually go? Maw-Maw and Pop-Pop's, his REAL family.” Zeke gave Casey a deep, meaningful stare. “They're the ones who have been around, when really-we've talked about it. They're not even his blood, and they treat him better than who IS. That fuckin' burns me up sometimes. Your mom and dad could've been like any other asshole who doesn't accept 'the gay', doesn't accept the grand-kid that ain't 'theirs'. And now what? Nothing. The poor kid doesn't get to see them or Mommy-Stokes, the stepdad, Joshua and everyone else that fuckin' cares about him for real on the biggest holiday of the year. So yea, I feel like a shit, and that's why.”
Casey turned his eyes to the floor, looking insecure all of a sudden. “Zeke...” he started, but didn't sound like he was going to finish. Zeke frowned and leaned down to get eye-to-eye with him.
“Um... yea?”
With a deep breath, Casey raised his head but still kept his eyes averted. “Okay. I-don't be mad, okay? But after listening to you for weeks, making prophecies about shit-moms who back out of plans and shit, I... don't be mad...”
“What? Spit it out, there ain't much that's gonna get me more pissy than with what 'Grandma Tyler' pulled,” Zeke said.
“Well, I-can we go into the living room? I want Tory to... well, maybe not, I dunno if you'll wanna do it...”
“Casey, for friggin' real-”
“I got us flights-out to Ohio two weekends ago for early-morning Christmas Eve,” Casey said in a rush, even turning away again and closing his eyes. It fell silent a few moments, Zeke letting the words sink in. Casey ended the pause in sighing shakily and continuing on, “I DID want to be sure we had a good Christmas, and as Pollyanna as I wanted to be, you... you made it clear that shit's never gone right with that woman, and I... wanted us to have a great Christmas. I figured, y'know, that if things did go good with your mom, we travel to Ohio all the time and could cancel the flights, use 'em as credit the next time we DO go... please don't be mad. Please.”
“Don't be mad?” Zeke echoed. Blinking wildly, he stood away from the counter and regarded Casey with an ambiguous expression. His chest seemed to shudder with how hard his heart had started pounding-beating fast with furious, beautiful love for the man he married. The smile that shook onto his face erased the pain and disappointment he'd been carrying all afternoon and evening; Casey finally dared to open his eyes. Zeke began chuckling hard. “The fuck would I be mad for? Jesus Christ, yea-I'm so pissed at you for making this fucking-fantastic decision, Casey.”
“Are you being sarcastic cos' you ARE mad, or because you're--”
“Shut up,” Zeke said before pulling Casey in for a long, soft kiss.
~*~
Christmas Eve, 3:22 PM
The only people who'd known of Casey's secret possible-plans were Stokely and Stan, who'd served a valuable purpose in making sure Casey's parents would be around the house for the holidays. It'd been easy-a given. Though Joshua wasn't related to the Connors, he was Torrin's brother by blood, and Mrs. Connor liked playing 'grandma' to the boy. Zeke knew how she felt about them living so far away; Casey had a hard time leaving the nest, due to his mother's overprotective nature. It'd been out of love, and of course she'd let him go... eventually. As much as it hurt her, Casey's need to live his life in a state that not only made him safe to live that life, but to live that life, she took some solace in the tradition of having Stan, Stokely and Joshua over for a Christmas Eve early supper. So keeping tabs on them had been easy through a few phone calls with Mrs. Rosado, who'd assured them that yes, they'd be having their 'breakfast dinner' as usual at 60 Ash Avenue.
Casey stopped the rental car along the curb in front of number fifty-six, already shaking with barely-concealed, boyish joy. Zeke was feeling punchy and anxious himself... Torrin? He'd become a mass of excitement, tugging at the seatbelt over his chest the second the engine was shut off.
“Daddy, why are we parked down the street? Maw-Maw and Pop-Pop's over THERE!” he called, trying to push himself up in his booster seat to see the house half-hidden by trees and bushes.
“We're gonna surprise 'em, remember? We don't want them seeing the car and us getting out,” Zeke said. “We're gonna sneak.”
“Sneaaak,” Torrin drawled. His smile became mischievous as he said, “I LIKE being sneaky.”
“Yea, he's your son, all right,” Casey said with a wink to Zeke. He got out of the car and went to get Torrin out. When he undid the seatbelt, Torrin went to leap out, mouth opening wide. Casey saw it coming and quickly reminded, “Shh! Remember, we're wearing our sneaky-pants.”
Torrin's eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his chortling. “Sneaky-pants?” he hissed.
“Yup,” Casey said.
Zeke chuckled his way to the trunk and got their two cases out. He met Casey and Torrin by the hood and leaned down to get eye-level with Torrin. “Remember what to do?” he asked.
“Yup! I go up the stairs, ring the bell and tell them I got lost,” Torrin said.
“Perfect. We'll be by the big tree, hiding. You ready?” Zeke asked. At Torrin's nodding in an excited blur, the three of them shared a quick chuckle then set off toward the house. Zeke glanced to Casey and couldn't help from smiling, seeing his happy expression...
“I won't lie... I always love coming home,” Casey had told Zeke while packing the night before. He'd admitted to feeling selfish, his wanting to spend every holiday with HIS family instead of taking chances on Zeke's. It brought on a fantastic compromise: if anyone from the Tyler side wanted holiday cheer with Zeke and his family, they'd get flights to Ohio instead of Connecticut. It assured time spent with the people who really mattered, no more risk involved. Before reaching the last hedge before number sixty, Zeke reached to Casey's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. Casey squeezed back, smiled his way then patted Torrin's shoulder.
“'K, you know what to do... Maw-Maw's gonna go nuts when she sees you,” he told the boy.
“Peanuts or walnuts??” Torrin asked, his smile one of an expectant comedian. Zeke rolled his eyes and smirked, Casey performing a quick, mimed rimshot before sending him off with a small shove. Torrin giggled his way down the last bit of sidewalk, zoomed to the front steps then slowed down to take the rest of the way on tiptoe.
“Lookit 'im, all hunched down...” Zeke whispered, loving the sight of their sneaky kid trying to keep out of sight of the windows.
“I know, right?” Casey replied. “Shove back a bit...”
Zeke allowed Casey more room behind the tree while keeping an eye on things. When Torrin rang the bell and moved closer to the door to hide, Zeke bit his lip so hard it hurt. Mrs. Connor's loud but muffled voice was heard coming closer and closer, until the front door opened.
“Hi, Maw-Maw, I'm LOST!” Torrin yelled.
“T... Torrin??”
“Where'd Connidicut go, is it THAT way??” the boy asked with a big grin while pointing down the street.
“What... TOR-rin, what-what are you doing here?!” Mrs. Connor screeched, but she didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she threw the door open, bent down in a shot and took Torrin into her arms. “Oh my-where are your fathers??”
“I dunno!!”
Casey started laughing loudly as he took Zeke's elbow and jogged out from their hiding place, Zeke following. Mrs. Connor's eyes went saucer-like as they approached. “Surprise!” Casey said.
“You... you...” the woman stammered. Still holding onto Torrin's shoulder with one hand, she stood to receive her son's bone-crushing hug. “You came home!” she cried.
“Yea, I burnt the turkey. We figured you'd have one to share,” Casey laughed out the words.
“Sweet... good god... Zeke!”
It was Zeke's turn to get a hug now; he gave one right back, letting the woman laugh and sob at the same time right by his ear. “Hey, Mom,” he said.
“What's... hey. Hey!” Mr. Connor, glass of what looked to be eggnog in his hand now arrived, his face going pink and bright as he set eyes on the scene. As he took HIS turn with the hugging, Mrs. Connor turned to look behind them into the house.
“Don't tell me you knew about this!” she called.
“Why do you think we insisted on getting here early??” Stokely called back.
Zeke gasped and chuckled as his father-in-law took a hearty, hefty squeeze of him. The man still worked out at the gym three-to-four times a week, that was for sure. As the 'new guy' in Casey's life almost ten years before, he'd been secretly terrified to make any wrong moves; nowadays, he'd become the man's second son... something Zeke had needed to be to someone for a long, long time. “Hey, Pops,” he said as they broke away.
“But I thought Vicky was making a visit to you guys?” Mr. Connor inquired, but his expression went blank and stony in the next second. Zeke parted his lips and tried finding the words to say; he'd spent some time in his trying to come up with a story, instead of giving the truth. His mother's aloof, uncaring nature came with some embarrassment for Zeke, always had; even if she deserved for everyone to know how downright shitty she could be, Zeke would still cover her to this day, for his own sake more than her's. But before Zeke could come up with anything, Mr. Connor's smile returned and he clapped a hand on Zeke's shoulder. “Eh, whatever, get in here!” he said.
He knew. They ALL knew. Zeke didn't have to say a word. They didn't know what that level of kind, loving understanding gave him, did they? Feeling more than a little choked-up and ready to dive into rum-drenched bliss the Connor's had come up with, he indeed followed Mr. Connor-the man's hand still holding his shoulder-into the warm, delicious-smelling home.
~*~
“Oh, WOW!”
“Hey! I have that, too! Oh WOW, they got you the 'I Spy' game, too!!”
“I wanted that one, yea!”
“And look, 'Finding Nemo', too!”
“WOW!”
Zeke was about to remind Torrin that the torn-to-shreds wrapping paper needed to go into the trash bag instead of all over the whole living room, but Mrs. Connor took it upon herself to collect this round's unwrapping excitement. Again. It was a sure bet that Torrin could've run into the living room, crashed into the Christmas tree breaking every ornate, glittering glass ball upon it then moved on to the kitchen and start a five-alarm blaze and she wouldn't have cared less. So long as her son, grandson and son-in-law were within arm's reach, no disaster would eclipse her joy.
“There's another one, isn't there?” Mr. Connor asked. He was a little buzzed off of his third glass of eggnog, but he grunted to a kneel and searched through the discarded paper and the large box the 'Leapfrog' game console both Torrin and Joshua were gushing over had come in. “Here it is!”
The boys looked to the cartridge Mr. Connor held up. “'Toy Story'!” they hollered in unison, making the adults chortle.
“I'd say this one's a hit,” Casey said while Joshua helped Torrin unpack the games.
“Not sure how it works, though...” Mrs. Connor said.
“Don't worry, Josh does,” Stan replied from his spot by the tree. “He'll gladly give Tory a tutorial.”
Stokely returned from the kitchen, large plate in hand. “Mmkay, cookie-time,” she said.
“YES!” Torrin said, reaching up to her. Stokely gave him a confused look and lifted the plate higher.
“These are MINE, what're you talking about? Go get your own.”
“Moooom!”
“Geez, kidding,” Stokely said.
Everyone let the kids get first-dibs before grabbing handfuls for themselves, of course. Zeke felt like a kid himself whenever Mrs. Connor's famous Snickerdoodles were served during the holidays. They were still warm, the cinnamon-sugar aroma wafting up to his nose as he brought it up to eat. Another few cliched but wonderful flavors were hidden deep inside the soft pastry... 'Mom and love,' Zeke thought as he chewed.
“Can... I open just one more?” Torrin begged his grandparents, eyes set on the large pile of gifts under the tree.
“Tory, they let you open 'one more' about ten times now,” Casey said. “You gotta save a few for tomorrow, y'know.”
“But...” Torrin went to protest.
“Hey now, if he wants one more, he GETS it.” Mrs. Connor beamed, winked at Torrin and returned to the tree. Casey smirked wryly and rolled his eyes but said nothing as the woman produced a large box. “Oh, this one's extra-special.”
“Ohh yea. I dunno, should we let him open that one?” Mr. Connor asked, a mysterious, strange grin on his face.
Torrin bounced around in his cross-legged sitting position as he took it, giving another polite, “Thanks, Maw-Maw!” before tearing at the glittering blue paper. The box he revealed was thrown open and tissue paper inside cast out. His happy expression switched to one of confusion. “Socks and underwear?”
Everyone bellowed with laughter, including Joshua, who went to his back and rolled back and forth in exaggerated hilarity. “THAT'S not 'special'...!” Torrin said. He pouted but eventually chuckled along.
“All right, your dads are right; we'll save the rest for tomorrow,” Mrs. Connor said.
Torrin sighed but turned his attention to Joshua and his new kid's game console. As Joshua helped him with the batteries and explained the machine's functions, Stokely sat in the armchair in between Stan and the couch where Casey and Zeke were cuddled-up on. “Keeping this surprise a surprise was hella-hard, so's you know,” she told them. “Your mom almost changed plans and sent ALL the presents, instead of her keeping them under the tree.”
That'd been another tradition for the woman; she'd send a few gifts to Connecticut early, but had a deep, hot need to keep Torrin, Casey and even Zeke close through the always-huge plethora of presents under their tree until the day after Christmas. Torrin had ended up loving it more than having everything in one day; getting two Christmases first at home and then in the mail days later stretched-out the holiday joy for him in a big way. Zeke slipped his arm across Casey's shoulders to hold him closer, his other hand grabbing another cookie. “Thanks, Stokes. We owe ya,” he said.
“I know,” Stokely said.
“A'right, Zeke... make room...” Mrs. Connor, finished with collecting wrapping paper was now shimmying between them and the coffee table; she then forced them apart to sit between them.
“So, you aren't annoyed with having to fit us into the holiday schedule?” Casey teased.
The woman scoffed and put her arm around Casey. She placed a hard kiss to his temple and said, “WHAT schedule? Believe it or not, me and Daddy hate sleeping-in on Christmas.”
“Suuure, that's why you'd come close to grounding me if I woke up before seven Christmas Day when I was Tory's age, right?” Casey said with a sly smirk.
“You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, Casey. You remember that.” Her grin was heavy with motherly-love as she nodded to Torrin, who'd decorated his head with his new 'Spongebob Squarepants' boxer-briefs. “If you blink, you'll miss everything.”
Zeke smiled and stared at Torrin and Joshua. He'd already felt things, important and wonderful things starting to slip-away. As a baby, Torrin had loved peas, devouring jar after jar of them with every meal. He'd proven it in sticking his tiny little hand into one full jar while Zeke had been distracted on the phone with the running-late babysitter, proceeding on to ruin the silk shirt Zeke had ever-so-stupidly worn instead of waiting to dress for his and Casey's date night. Zeke could still remember how mad he'd been when he looked down at his sleeve and found the puke-green handprint Torrin had left. He hadn't yelled at the unknowing, vegetable-hungry boy, but for a few minutes he'd given his baby-boy the evil eye. Nowadays, Torrin loathed peas, preferring chicken nugget Happy Meals and 'Jolly Rancher' candies over everything else, and Zeke would gladly slather his favorite clothing in pureed fruits and vegetables, even spit-up, if he could have just one more day with baby-days-Torrin.
But Torrin had been just as excited over the first present he'd opened, a set of child-friendly instruments which had an age-rating of two-and-up. Not meant for babies, perhaps, but still young. While he liked playing a balloon popping game Zeke had on his phone, he hadn't started begging for his OWN phone or expensive electronic device... yet. Watching him and Joshua start playing on the Leapfrog console made Zeke both happy and nervous...
“Zeke?”
Hearing his name, Zeke blinked furiously and turned to Mrs. Connor, who was giving him a curious gaze. “Oh. Sorry, what?”
The woman made a wistful sigh and took the top of his hand. Giving it a squeeze, she said, “Nothing, honey. Sorry to interrupt.”
~*~
“Are we really staying four days, Daddy?”
Zeke smiled at Torrin as he tucked the large, fluffy comforter-one of Casey's old ones, printed with a night sky scene-around his little self. The bed was Casey's as well, which was both a warm, family comfort and a little weird. Zeke put aside the frantic, teenaged memories of this very mattress to reply, “Yup. Know what else?”
“What?” Torrin asked.
“Since Maw-Maw said she sent out your 'at home' presents two days ago, they should be on the porch when we get back,” Zeke said. “That means that you get to have Christmas with her and Pop-Pop all over again.”
The grin that grew on Torrin's face was one of the reasons Zeke felt whole, complete. “Awesome,” he replied. He shimmied a little and tugged his new stuffed elephant from Mom and Stan closer to his chest. With a sigh, he said, “I wish Christmas really WAS a whole week long.”
“It'd probably kill every mom and dad out there, but... yea, that'd be cool,” Zeke said, chuckling. “So, this was a good idea, wasn't it?”
“Comin' here? Yeeea,” Torrin said. His smile faded a little, however. “But... it's a little bit... sad.”
“What is?”
“That Kiki couldn't come, too.”
Kiki... that'd been how Vicky, Zeke's mom, had introduced herself as. Wherever she'd gotten THAT nickname for a grandmother, no one could say. But the fact that she'd been brought up now by her grandson was telling. “Did you like her?” Zeke asked, trying hard to keep smiling.
“Yea. She was so funny, like-like when she took us shopping, and she got the lemonade, and she made a fish face?” Torrin's smile grew again before continuing, “And she said she'd sucked the straw too hard and her face was STUCK like that!”
“Hah, yea...” Zeke had gotten a kick out of the woman pretending she needed to go to the doctor to fix her sudden, rare disease, “Oh no, I have fish-face-itis!” before telling Torrin she'd heard that it could be cured by a grandson's kiss. In those few, silly minutes in the food court, Zeke had seen the possibilities, the hopes that maybe Torrin as her grandson meant she'd visit more than once a year. Now that those hopes been dashed, Zeke had to keep up the front-not for his sake, but Torrin's. “Sorry she couldn't stay. But she'd a busy lady, with her job, travelling...”
“I thought she went to a party? Down in t'city, with friends and stuff.”
“Well... you know,” Zeke said, the words coming out in an awkward mumble. HE didn't know, how could he expect a four-year old to understand? Hoping to get some sort of message across, one that could be given as gently as possible, Zeke ran a hand over Torrin's head and said, “Like I said, she's really busy. When I was little, I had nannies, went to after-school stuff instead of going home... it was hard sometimes.”
“Like... she wasn't home? Like, ever?” Torrin asked.
“At night. It's sorta like when you're at the daycare, at Daddy's school-only a lot longer, then with other people at home but... not Mom.”
Torrin made a face. “Yuck.”
“What?”
“I'd hate being stuck at my school allll day,” the boy drawled.
'Yea, you would,' Zeke thought, but he managed a chuckle. “Hey, I thought you liked your school. Especially that girl... Nina?” he said, referring to the little redhead Torrin liked talking about every chance he got. Sure enough, the boy made a shy grin and blushed.
“Well, yea, it's fun. But I like being home better,” he said.
“Me too. Believe me... if we won the lottery, we'd stay home all the time,” Zeke said.
“Would I have to go to Kindergarten?”
Zeke chuckled again, harder. “Yup. Sorry.”
Torrin made a long sigh then yawned. “But... if we were rich, then...” he yawned again, making Zeke shake his head and lean down to kiss his forehead.
“You'd better get to sleep before Santa gets here. You know how it goes, he won't show up if you're still awake,” Zeke told him.
“Yea, I-oh!” Torrin's eyes flew open and he looked panicked. “But, but... wait! He doesn't know I'm here, in Ohio! What if he leaves my pressies in Connedicut??”
“C'mon, he knows everything. Anyway, I think Daddy called his hotline at the North Pole to let him know,” Zeke said. “Just in case.”
“Oh. Hope he got the mes...”
Another yawn, from a boy who still believed in Santa Claus. Zeke gave him another kiss on his brow and stood. “He did. Now get some sleep,” he said. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love too,” Torrin mumbled sleepily before closing his eyes, a smile on his face. Zeke walked sideways to stare at it, the glow in Torrin's face easy to see in the dim lamplight coming through the cracked open doorway. Before leaving, Zeke looked around the room; some things were still the same, like the shelves nailed onto the wall which had once held awards and trinkets of Casey's. Some were very different, namely that the other side of the room had been modified to accommodate Mr. Connor's work-from-home office. Zeke began wondering what they'd do to Torrin's old bedroom when he left home. His chest tightened and he bit his lip. 'Don't DO that, not now,' Zeke thought as he finally left, shutting the door behind him.
Despite the happy scene he found downstairs in the living room, Casey and his parents setting up Torrin's board game 'Apples to Apples' for themselves, Zeke still felt a weight on his chest and shoulders. Casey looked over and grinned. “Is he passed-out?” he asked.
“On his way, yea,” Zeke replied.
“Cool. We'll get the Santa gifts ready, but... sit-in, we haven't started yet,” Casey said, patting the empty spot next to him on the floor.
“Um... actually, I need to head out and get some smokes,” Zeke lied. He needed a smoke, and had three packs mere yards away in his bag by the door. He shifted feet, asking, “The place by the 'Stop & Shop' in town, they're open late on Christmas Eve still, right?”
“Should be; they're Muslim, I think,” Mrs. Connor said.
“I thought they were Hindu?” Mr. Connor added. “Do Hindus celebrate Christmas...?”
Zeke shrugged. “I'll take my chances. Sorry, I'll hop in next game?”
Nodding slowly, Casey said, “Sure, sweets. Oh... pick me up a five-hour shot. And some chocolate.”
“'K, anyone else got requests?”
Mr. Connor said, “Get a couple good cigars, I think they have a humidor,” while Mrs. Connor began worrying over news reports about someone dying after downing a few of the energy-shots Casey apparently couldn't open his eyes without. Zeke nodded, grabbed his coat, promised to be back soon and left the house. The bitter, skin-shattering wind-chill factor was gone, leaving the air cold but still. Zeke lit a cigarette from his almost-empty pack, got in the car and drove off.
He didn't go straight to the store, however. Instead of turning left at the end of Ash, he went right to head onto Dwight Street. Two more lefts and one more right got him to Bell Avenue. His face felt tight as he approached number twenty; the whole street was lined with cars, a large concentration of them being in his old driveway and at the curb in front of the large house. A spot across the street at twenty-one was empty, however, so he pulled in, took a heavy, shaky drag from his cigarette and stared at the porch.
It would've been nice if this was still his house, as it seemed full of people, light and color. Had his parents ever bothered putting up long, multi-colored lights in the bushes like the scene he stared at? And the tree, easily seen through the front windows; the high ceilings did indeed accommodate Redwood-sized trees, whoever living here now proving it. Silver and blue bulbs illuminating each bough, piece of tinsel and shiny ornament made a magical sight inside, no doubt decorated with the utmost of care and attention to detail. Zeke DID grow up with Christmas trees, or Christmas tree singular, the old fake number perhaps still somewhere in the basement of the house. He hadn't taken it with him.
Zeke stiffened when the front door opened and a man stepped out. He carried a large gift bag and a foil-covered tray of whatever wonderful food had been served at this party; he was followed by another man and a woman, the latter carrying a large, very-obvious pregnant stomach. Though Zeke couldn't make out what they were saying through his cracked-open window, the conversation was dotted with heavy chuckles. Hugs were given, the guest lingering with the woman to pat her stomach and lean down to talk to the unborn babe inside. When he finally headed to the stairs, he waved back at them, calling, “Maybe I'll have a Christmas niece, best present ever!”
An uncle. Zeke had one named Ray, but couldn't remember what he looked like. Zeke sank back and kept watching, feeling teary.
'Wish I'd had this,' he muttered sadly in his mind. He closed his eyes and imagined what Christmas with Vicky could've been like; she'd loved their tree, decorated not quite as elaborately as THIS family's but with all of their favorite ornaments. A lot of them were Torrin-made, a toddler and preschooler's contributions consisting of mismatched colors, glitter messily applied to construction paper and popsicle-stick stars, every last one of them more valuable than any crystal bauble. Vicky had run a finger over the silver-glittered star at the top then down a lush, green branch, saying that she'd always liked real Christmas trees better.
'Then why that fake piece of shit every year?' Zeke had wanted to reply, adding that his OWN homemade ornaments had been just as good as Torrin's yet never displayed. Mrs. Vicky Tyler, art critic extraordinaire, wouldn't have been able to impress rich, well-to-do party guests with anything Zeke could have hung on the tree. Perhaps he hadn't needed to bring it up, though-not when Torrin had grinned, grabbed the newest ornament he'd made out of green construction paper and his school picture and asked Zeke, “Can I give this to Kiki, for a pressie?” The expression she'd made when she looked between them, telling Torrin that she didn't have a tree to hang it on anyway, “That's meant for THIS tree, honey,” had held a secret guilt that only Zeke could notice. Of course, he'd said nothing, telling Torrin he could make her her very own, if he wanted.
He hadn't, choosing to make her a card instead. He'd made it in secret and planned on giving it to her Christmas morning during present-opening. When she'd made her new plans and announced them, he'd run upstairs in a panic; before Zeke could bellow at his mother for making her grandson run off to his room and cry, Torrin had rushed back down, holding it out to her. For My KIKI! the top had read, a beautiful Christmas tree drawn and colored underneath. On the inside was a picture of Santa saying HOHOHOOO!, and the words, 'Love Torrin'. It was good to see the woman's face flash with guilt before she'd sat on the couch to give him a big hug, saying she'd come back the next Christmas. Whether that happened or not didn't matter, as she'd have to meet them in Ohio. No more chances would be taken, Zeke promised that.
Past all of the emotion piling up and making Zeke cry, there was something else; despite his own upbringing, despite his lack of real love through an honest-to-goodness family, despite the many nannies that came and went due to his parents' strict, unwarranted rules as to how 'their son' needed to be cared for, Zeke wasn't a father. He was Daddy, capitalized and made official through a child who knew, without any doubt in the world, that he was Daddy's most precious little person. The other Daddy was sometimes even better than Zeke's version, even if his DNA was nowhere to be seen in their son. That meant there'd be no divorce, no custody battles, no absentee parenting. That meant that it didn't matter that he didn't live in this house anymore and the new, wonderful-looking family inside of it had never been his. It hit Zeke like a battering ram, all at once, stopping the tears immediately: he was a good man who'd held onto enough hope in his miserable life, enough to be everything he was nowadays. There was a family that loved him, not just because he treated their son like the king he was, but because Zeke himself was their adopted king, next-in-line-an heir worthy enough to be called 'son'. Most of all, there was a beautiful, smart and utterly hilarious little prince Zeke was bringing up who didn't need a Kiki to make him feel treasured, not when he was surrounded by an impenetrable barrier of love as he was. Whoever Kiki would end up being to the boy was all up to Kiki, and no one else. Zeke would be damned if Torrin would ever feel at fault, that he 'wasn't enough'. After going through that pain and anguish for the many years he had, Zeke would make sure it'd never touch his own wonderful boy.
All of that was enough to start the engine again, but before he could put the car in drive, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He got it out and didn't bother checking the caller ID, knowing who it was. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back. Just wanted to ask if you hit the store yet,” Casey said.
“Um, no... sorry. Why?”
“Mom's stopped bugging-out about the five-hour stuff, wants to try one to see what it's like. That and a package of powdered donuts; she'd promised Torrin she'd have some the next time we came over. She didn't KNOW we were coming, so... yea.”
“Sure. On my way.”
“Mmm. I figured you'd have been there and back by now.”
Zeke nodded to himself as he edged from the spot and traveled down the road. “Yea, I-took a slight detour,” he replied.
“I know. I'd gone into your bag to see if you had any cigs when you brought Tory up to bed,” Casey said. “You okay?”
“Yea,” Zeke replied. He took a glance to the rearview at the lit-up, winter wonderland. He nodded again. “In fact, I'm better than okay. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“You.”
A small pause followed, ending with Casey's sigh. “Well, y'know,” he said.
“Yup. See you in a bit, babe.”
“Love ya.”
“Love back,” Zeke said then hung up the phone with a smile. Another cigarette was lit and he drove on. Once at the store, he remembered how much cheaper cigarettes were in Ohio, compared to the East Coast. Two cartons were bought, along with a four-pack of shots, bag of powdered doughnuts, Casey's favorite 'Dove' dark chocolate, an Arizona iced tea for himself and not one cigar, but the whole box of the best the store had to offer. Zeke felt like there was something to celebrate, and there was.
I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday, and for anyone not subscribing to the Christian faith, well--I'm a rotten, no-good skeptic of everything spiritual. Doesn't mean I sat at home bitching about religion, not when there's food, friends, family and other fun to jump into. In the end, it's what keeps us sane when it's too cold to live, amirite?
So yesterday was my naeminess, chock full of that good ol' ebul she craves. Today, it's holiday fluff, Torrin!fic style. Hope you enjoy!
~*~BELATED-BUT-LOTSA-♥♥♥-TO ALL!~*~
Title: He's Just Like You: Kiki
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, future!fic
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke gets his hopes up, then down, then up, then down, then up for good.
December 22nd
Zeke's telling himself 'you're used to this', over and over again, wasn't helping this time. It showed in how concentrated he'd become in chores, doing one after the other in the last hour and a half. He needed something other than the living room's holiday-cheer décor, complete with the Charlie Brown Christmas Special playing on the TV that Torrin was watching with Casey. Zeke had planned on joining them, but it would've hurt too much. The dishes needed to be done to make room for Casey's holiday bake-a-thon, anyway, and in finishing that chore, Zeke had figured a good top-to-bottom scrub-down of the kitchen itself wasn't unwarranted.
He'd just gotten to a kneel on the counter to dust the top of the shelves when Casey came in. In the corner of his eye, Zeke saw him go to the fridge, grab the handle then stop dead to stare at him. Zeke paused to look back. “What?”
“Uh... what're you doing?” Casey asked.
“Dusting.”
“Uh... huh,” Casey hesitantly replied, an eyebrow cocked. “When was the last time we did that?”
“Going by what I've found... probably never,” Zeke said. He made a small smirk as he showed off the first paper towel he'd dragged across the first cabinet. The deep, murky black and gray grossness of it made Casey snarl.
“Ew.”
“Yea, see?” Zeke returned to the task; at his next swipe of a new towel, he felt something bump his knuckles. He blindly reached for whatever it was and brought it down. “Hey... lookit that.”
“What?” Casey moved closer and raised his eyebrows. “I don't remember owning a hand-mixer.”
“It must've been left by the previous owners of the house.”
“What, ten years ago?”
Zeke chuckled and handed it to Casey. “Merry early Chrimbo,” he said.
“Um, great. A dusty, scrungy kitchen tool...” Casey replied, but chuckled also as he brought it to the sink.
“Wash it down, that's a classic; nice sturdy metal. We always talk about modern day appliances being cheap plastic shit,” Zeke said.
“Yea,” Casey said. He did indeed turn the water on and grab a Brillo-pad to scrub it. Zeke continued his rampant chore-hounding in shimmying down to the next cabinet, spraying more cleaner as he went. It was silent between them until Casey shut the water off, placed the mixer in the dish-rack and sighed, saying, “I know what's going on.”
“What?”
“Why you're doing this.”
Zeke bit down on his lower lip and shrugged. “I'm just cleaning the place up. I gotta do more in the kitchen, anyway,” he replied.
“Zeke... I'm sorry,” Casey said, his voice soft as he moved to lean on the counter Zeke was kneeling on. “It was really shitty of her to do what she did.”
“My mom? I already said, I'm used to it.”
“Zeke.”
“I am.” Zeke stopped wiping and spraying to look down at his husband. “It doesn't matter.”
“I'm not saying 'sorry' just for her. I...” Casey stopped dead a moment to sigh and turn, slumping onto his crossed arms as he went on, “...I just wanted you to give her that chance. Y'know? The fact that it was her calling you, wanting to visit for Christmas and FI-nally meet her grandson, and... I'd just wanted to hope, more for your sake than anything else.”
The idea of dusting seemed so annoying now. Zeke knew they were going to end up talking about this, because if there was one thing Casey loved doing, it was talking-especially when it came to 'feelings'. It'd been something Zeke had gotten used to and even participated in, instead of dismissing it as 'no, it's nothing, don't worry,' when he knew he finally had someone in his life that he could trust with those feelings and emotions. It wasn't all Casey, either; he was a father now, and if he truly wanted to be better than HIS absentee dad, he needed to be more open and honest. Seeing as he'd started this nasty job and it would look bad if he didn't finish, he continued the chore but decided to give it up in saying, “I know. That's why I kept telling you, don't expect anything that great or wonderful, like she's suddenly gonna work on being the best mom and-or grandma of the year. I don't wanna get Torrin all mixed-up in that crap. Believe me, it stings.”
“You can say it,” Casey said.
“Say what?”
“'I told you so'.”
Zeke smirked a little, made quick work of the last cabinet then worked his way back down. He tossed the used and abused paper towels in the trash then grabbed two beers from the fridge. One was handed to Casey; after they were opened and a few gulps were taken by both of them, Zeke smacked his lips and sighed. “I won't lie. When she got off the plane and we all met up... I had this moment of wild-wonder and hope, y'know? She did seem different, in a way. The smile she was wearing when she gave Torrin a hug, saying, 'I'm finally meeting my grandbaby!' and what-not, it was like... different,” he said. “It made some sense to me. I remember her always being bitter about her mom, how she'd always been cold to her growing up... but when I came along, she turned into this lovey-dovey grandma, doting on me, whatever. But instead of being bitter, I kept thinking of how neat it'd be if she was this awesome grandma to Torrin. Like... she'd make some shit up to me, doing that.”
“Yea. I get it,” Casey said.
“But I had to keep him safe, telling him that she can't wait to meet him, already loves him-but not to expect anything. He's only four, but he gets it. He's smart. At the same time, I didn't wanna screw him up, and... god, I don't friggin' know.” Zeke took another swig from the bottle then stared at the label for a handful of moments before continuing, “She couldn't even stay 'til Christmas Eve. Friends she hasn't seen in years need her more than me, I guess. 'I know, I'm sorry, but with the holidays and everything, switching flights and changing plans is hard, gotta take what I can get, yadda, yadda...' Sorry we don't live in New York City minutes away from classy restaurants and boutiques...”
Casey's brow furrowed with sympathy as he turned, leaned on his hip and placed a hand on Zeke's upper arm. He rubbed it lightly as he spoke, “She doesn't get it. Probably won't ever get it. But that's not your fault, it's her's.”
“Doesn't make it hurt any less,” Zeke said. Acknowledging that, here and now, made his eyes sting. After so many years, so many goddamned disappointments, it still hurt when it happened-maybe moreso, now that there was another little life involved. Zeke looked to the archway leading out of the kitchen, wondering what was going through Torrin's mind. “Is he okay?”
“Torrin, about Grandma taking off? Hah, yea. He said he liked being with her, shopping, the stuff she got him... but it's not as if she's always been around and always letting him down. He didn't expect anything, thanks to you,” Casey said.
“I still feel like a shit.”
“Why?”
“Because, I know what he expected. Where do we usually go? Maw-Maw and Pop-Pop's, his REAL family.” Zeke gave Casey a deep, meaningful stare. “They're the ones who have been around, when really-we've talked about it. They're not even his blood, and they treat him better than who IS. That fuckin' burns me up sometimes. Your mom and dad could've been like any other asshole who doesn't accept 'the gay', doesn't accept the grand-kid that ain't 'theirs'. And now what? Nothing. The poor kid doesn't get to see them or Mommy-Stokes, the stepdad, Joshua and everyone else that fuckin' cares about him for real on the biggest holiday of the year. So yea, I feel like a shit, and that's why.”
Casey turned his eyes to the floor, looking insecure all of a sudden. “Zeke...” he started, but didn't sound like he was going to finish. Zeke frowned and leaned down to get eye-to-eye with him.
“Um... yea?”
With a deep breath, Casey raised his head but still kept his eyes averted. “Okay. I-don't be mad, okay? But after listening to you for weeks, making prophecies about shit-moms who back out of plans and shit, I... don't be mad...”
“What? Spit it out, there ain't much that's gonna get me more pissy than with what 'Grandma Tyler' pulled,” Zeke said.
“Well, I-can we go into the living room? I want Tory to... well, maybe not, I dunno if you'll wanna do it...”
“Casey, for friggin' real-”
“I got us flights-out to Ohio two weekends ago for early-morning Christmas Eve,” Casey said in a rush, even turning away again and closing his eyes. It fell silent a few moments, Zeke letting the words sink in. Casey ended the pause in sighing shakily and continuing on, “I DID want to be sure we had a good Christmas, and as Pollyanna as I wanted to be, you... you made it clear that shit's never gone right with that woman, and I... wanted us to have a great Christmas. I figured, y'know, that if things did go good with your mom, we travel to Ohio all the time and could cancel the flights, use 'em as credit the next time we DO go... please don't be mad. Please.”
“Don't be mad?” Zeke echoed. Blinking wildly, he stood away from the counter and regarded Casey with an ambiguous expression. His chest seemed to shudder with how hard his heart had started pounding-beating fast with furious, beautiful love for the man he married. The smile that shook onto his face erased the pain and disappointment he'd been carrying all afternoon and evening; Casey finally dared to open his eyes. Zeke began chuckling hard. “The fuck would I be mad for? Jesus Christ, yea-I'm so pissed at you for making this fucking-fantastic decision, Casey.”
“Are you being sarcastic cos' you ARE mad, or because you're--”
“Shut up,” Zeke said before pulling Casey in for a long, soft kiss.
~*~
Christmas Eve, 3:22 PM
The only people who'd known of Casey's secret possible-plans were Stokely and Stan, who'd served a valuable purpose in making sure Casey's parents would be around the house for the holidays. It'd been easy-a given. Though Joshua wasn't related to the Connors, he was Torrin's brother by blood, and Mrs. Connor liked playing 'grandma' to the boy. Zeke knew how she felt about them living so far away; Casey had a hard time leaving the nest, due to his mother's overprotective nature. It'd been out of love, and of course she'd let him go... eventually. As much as it hurt her, Casey's need to live his life in a state that not only made him safe to live that life, but to live that life, she took some solace in the tradition of having Stan, Stokely and Joshua over for a Christmas Eve early supper. So keeping tabs on them had been easy through a few phone calls with Mrs. Rosado, who'd assured them that yes, they'd be having their 'breakfast dinner' as usual at 60 Ash Avenue.
Casey stopped the rental car along the curb in front of number fifty-six, already shaking with barely-concealed, boyish joy. Zeke was feeling punchy and anxious himself... Torrin? He'd become a mass of excitement, tugging at the seatbelt over his chest the second the engine was shut off.
“Daddy, why are we parked down the street? Maw-Maw and Pop-Pop's over THERE!” he called, trying to push himself up in his booster seat to see the house half-hidden by trees and bushes.
“We're gonna surprise 'em, remember? We don't want them seeing the car and us getting out,” Zeke said. “We're gonna sneak.”
“Sneaaak,” Torrin drawled. His smile became mischievous as he said, “I LIKE being sneaky.”
“Yea, he's your son, all right,” Casey said with a wink to Zeke. He got out of the car and went to get Torrin out. When he undid the seatbelt, Torrin went to leap out, mouth opening wide. Casey saw it coming and quickly reminded, “Shh! Remember, we're wearing our sneaky-pants.”
Torrin's eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his chortling. “Sneaky-pants?” he hissed.
“Yup,” Casey said.
Zeke chuckled his way to the trunk and got their two cases out. He met Casey and Torrin by the hood and leaned down to get eye-level with Torrin. “Remember what to do?” he asked.
“Yup! I go up the stairs, ring the bell and tell them I got lost,” Torrin said.
“Perfect. We'll be by the big tree, hiding. You ready?” Zeke asked. At Torrin's nodding in an excited blur, the three of them shared a quick chuckle then set off toward the house. Zeke glanced to Casey and couldn't help from smiling, seeing his happy expression...
“I won't lie... I always love coming home,” Casey had told Zeke while packing the night before. He'd admitted to feeling selfish, his wanting to spend every holiday with HIS family instead of taking chances on Zeke's. It brought on a fantastic compromise: if anyone from the Tyler side wanted holiday cheer with Zeke and his family, they'd get flights to Ohio instead of Connecticut. It assured time spent with the people who really mattered, no more risk involved. Before reaching the last hedge before number sixty, Zeke reached to Casey's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. Casey squeezed back, smiled his way then patted Torrin's shoulder.
“'K, you know what to do... Maw-Maw's gonna go nuts when she sees you,” he told the boy.
“Peanuts or walnuts??” Torrin asked, his smile one of an expectant comedian. Zeke rolled his eyes and smirked, Casey performing a quick, mimed rimshot before sending him off with a small shove. Torrin giggled his way down the last bit of sidewalk, zoomed to the front steps then slowed down to take the rest of the way on tiptoe.
“Lookit 'im, all hunched down...” Zeke whispered, loving the sight of their sneaky kid trying to keep out of sight of the windows.
“I know, right?” Casey replied. “Shove back a bit...”
Zeke allowed Casey more room behind the tree while keeping an eye on things. When Torrin rang the bell and moved closer to the door to hide, Zeke bit his lip so hard it hurt. Mrs. Connor's loud but muffled voice was heard coming closer and closer, until the front door opened.
“Hi, Maw-Maw, I'm LOST!” Torrin yelled.
“T... Torrin??”
“Where'd Connidicut go, is it THAT way??” the boy asked with a big grin while pointing down the street.
“What... TOR-rin, what-what are you doing here?!” Mrs. Connor screeched, but she didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she threw the door open, bent down in a shot and took Torrin into her arms. “Oh my-where are your fathers??”
“I dunno!!”
Casey started laughing loudly as he took Zeke's elbow and jogged out from their hiding place, Zeke following. Mrs. Connor's eyes went saucer-like as they approached. “Surprise!” Casey said.
“You... you...” the woman stammered. Still holding onto Torrin's shoulder with one hand, she stood to receive her son's bone-crushing hug. “You came home!” she cried.
“Yea, I burnt the turkey. We figured you'd have one to share,” Casey laughed out the words.
“Sweet... good god... Zeke!”
It was Zeke's turn to get a hug now; he gave one right back, letting the woman laugh and sob at the same time right by his ear. “Hey, Mom,” he said.
“What's... hey. Hey!” Mr. Connor, glass of what looked to be eggnog in his hand now arrived, his face going pink and bright as he set eyes on the scene. As he took HIS turn with the hugging, Mrs. Connor turned to look behind them into the house.
“Don't tell me you knew about this!” she called.
“Why do you think we insisted on getting here early??” Stokely called back.
Zeke gasped and chuckled as his father-in-law took a hearty, hefty squeeze of him. The man still worked out at the gym three-to-four times a week, that was for sure. As the 'new guy' in Casey's life almost ten years before, he'd been secretly terrified to make any wrong moves; nowadays, he'd become the man's second son... something Zeke had needed to be to someone for a long, long time. “Hey, Pops,” he said as they broke away.
“But I thought Vicky was making a visit to you guys?” Mr. Connor inquired, but his expression went blank and stony in the next second. Zeke parted his lips and tried finding the words to say; he'd spent some time in his trying to come up with a story, instead of giving the truth. His mother's aloof, uncaring nature came with some embarrassment for Zeke, always had; even if she deserved for everyone to know how downright shitty she could be, Zeke would still cover her to this day, for his own sake more than her's. But before Zeke could come up with anything, Mr. Connor's smile returned and he clapped a hand on Zeke's shoulder. “Eh, whatever, get in here!” he said.
He knew. They ALL knew. Zeke didn't have to say a word. They didn't know what that level of kind, loving understanding gave him, did they? Feeling more than a little choked-up and ready to dive into rum-drenched bliss the Connor's had come up with, he indeed followed Mr. Connor-the man's hand still holding his shoulder-into the warm, delicious-smelling home.
~*~
“Oh, WOW!”
“Hey! I have that, too! Oh WOW, they got you the 'I Spy' game, too!!”
“I wanted that one, yea!”
“And look, 'Finding Nemo', too!”
“WOW!”
Zeke was about to remind Torrin that the torn-to-shreds wrapping paper needed to go into the trash bag instead of all over the whole living room, but Mrs. Connor took it upon herself to collect this round's unwrapping excitement. Again. It was a sure bet that Torrin could've run into the living room, crashed into the Christmas tree breaking every ornate, glittering glass ball upon it then moved on to the kitchen and start a five-alarm blaze and she wouldn't have cared less. So long as her son, grandson and son-in-law were within arm's reach, no disaster would eclipse her joy.
“There's another one, isn't there?” Mr. Connor asked. He was a little buzzed off of his third glass of eggnog, but he grunted to a kneel and searched through the discarded paper and the large box the 'Leapfrog' game console both Torrin and Joshua were gushing over had come in. “Here it is!”
The boys looked to the cartridge Mr. Connor held up. “'Toy Story'!” they hollered in unison, making the adults chortle.
“I'd say this one's a hit,” Casey said while Joshua helped Torrin unpack the games.
“Not sure how it works, though...” Mrs. Connor said.
“Don't worry, Josh does,” Stan replied from his spot by the tree. “He'll gladly give Tory a tutorial.”
Stokely returned from the kitchen, large plate in hand. “Mmkay, cookie-time,” she said.
“YES!” Torrin said, reaching up to her. Stokely gave him a confused look and lifted the plate higher.
“These are MINE, what're you talking about? Go get your own.”
“Moooom!”
“Geez, kidding,” Stokely said.
Everyone let the kids get first-dibs before grabbing handfuls for themselves, of course. Zeke felt like a kid himself whenever Mrs. Connor's famous Snickerdoodles were served during the holidays. They were still warm, the cinnamon-sugar aroma wafting up to his nose as he brought it up to eat. Another few cliched but wonderful flavors were hidden deep inside the soft pastry... 'Mom and love,' Zeke thought as he chewed.
“Can... I open just one more?” Torrin begged his grandparents, eyes set on the large pile of gifts under the tree.
“Tory, they let you open 'one more' about ten times now,” Casey said. “You gotta save a few for tomorrow, y'know.”
“But...” Torrin went to protest.
“Hey now, if he wants one more, he GETS it.” Mrs. Connor beamed, winked at Torrin and returned to the tree. Casey smirked wryly and rolled his eyes but said nothing as the woman produced a large box. “Oh, this one's extra-special.”
“Ohh yea. I dunno, should we let him open that one?” Mr. Connor asked, a mysterious, strange grin on his face.
Torrin bounced around in his cross-legged sitting position as he took it, giving another polite, “Thanks, Maw-Maw!” before tearing at the glittering blue paper. The box he revealed was thrown open and tissue paper inside cast out. His happy expression switched to one of confusion. “Socks and underwear?”
Everyone bellowed with laughter, including Joshua, who went to his back and rolled back and forth in exaggerated hilarity. “THAT'S not 'special'...!” Torrin said. He pouted but eventually chuckled along.
“All right, your dads are right; we'll save the rest for tomorrow,” Mrs. Connor said.
Torrin sighed but turned his attention to Joshua and his new kid's game console. As Joshua helped him with the batteries and explained the machine's functions, Stokely sat in the armchair in between Stan and the couch where Casey and Zeke were cuddled-up on. “Keeping this surprise a surprise was hella-hard, so's you know,” she told them. “Your mom almost changed plans and sent ALL the presents, instead of her keeping them under the tree.”
That'd been another tradition for the woman; she'd send a few gifts to Connecticut early, but had a deep, hot need to keep Torrin, Casey and even Zeke close through the always-huge plethora of presents under their tree until the day after Christmas. Torrin had ended up loving it more than having everything in one day; getting two Christmases first at home and then in the mail days later stretched-out the holiday joy for him in a big way. Zeke slipped his arm across Casey's shoulders to hold him closer, his other hand grabbing another cookie. “Thanks, Stokes. We owe ya,” he said.
“I know,” Stokely said.
“A'right, Zeke... make room...” Mrs. Connor, finished with collecting wrapping paper was now shimmying between them and the coffee table; she then forced them apart to sit between them.
“So, you aren't annoyed with having to fit us into the holiday schedule?” Casey teased.
The woman scoffed and put her arm around Casey. She placed a hard kiss to his temple and said, “WHAT schedule? Believe it or not, me and Daddy hate sleeping-in on Christmas.”
“Suuure, that's why you'd come close to grounding me if I woke up before seven Christmas Day when I was Tory's age, right?” Casey said with a sly smirk.
“You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, Casey. You remember that.” Her grin was heavy with motherly-love as she nodded to Torrin, who'd decorated his head with his new 'Spongebob Squarepants' boxer-briefs. “If you blink, you'll miss everything.”
Zeke smiled and stared at Torrin and Joshua. He'd already felt things, important and wonderful things starting to slip-away. As a baby, Torrin had loved peas, devouring jar after jar of them with every meal. He'd proven it in sticking his tiny little hand into one full jar while Zeke had been distracted on the phone with the running-late babysitter, proceeding on to ruin the silk shirt Zeke had ever-so-stupidly worn instead of waiting to dress for his and Casey's date night. Zeke could still remember how mad he'd been when he looked down at his sleeve and found the puke-green handprint Torrin had left. He hadn't yelled at the unknowing, vegetable-hungry boy, but for a few minutes he'd given his baby-boy the evil eye. Nowadays, Torrin loathed peas, preferring chicken nugget Happy Meals and 'Jolly Rancher' candies over everything else, and Zeke would gladly slather his favorite clothing in pureed fruits and vegetables, even spit-up, if he could have just one more day with baby-days-Torrin.
But Torrin had been just as excited over the first present he'd opened, a set of child-friendly instruments which had an age-rating of two-and-up. Not meant for babies, perhaps, but still young. While he liked playing a balloon popping game Zeke had on his phone, he hadn't started begging for his OWN phone or expensive electronic device... yet. Watching him and Joshua start playing on the Leapfrog console made Zeke both happy and nervous...
“Zeke?”
Hearing his name, Zeke blinked furiously and turned to Mrs. Connor, who was giving him a curious gaze. “Oh. Sorry, what?”
The woman made a wistful sigh and took the top of his hand. Giving it a squeeze, she said, “Nothing, honey. Sorry to interrupt.”
~*~
“Are we really staying four days, Daddy?”
Zeke smiled at Torrin as he tucked the large, fluffy comforter-one of Casey's old ones, printed with a night sky scene-around his little self. The bed was Casey's as well, which was both a warm, family comfort and a little weird. Zeke put aside the frantic, teenaged memories of this very mattress to reply, “Yup. Know what else?”
“What?” Torrin asked.
“Since Maw-Maw said she sent out your 'at home' presents two days ago, they should be on the porch when we get back,” Zeke said. “That means that you get to have Christmas with her and Pop-Pop all over again.”
The grin that grew on Torrin's face was one of the reasons Zeke felt whole, complete. “Awesome,” he replied. He shimmied a little and tugged his new stuffed elephant from Mom and Stan closer to his chest. With a sigh, he said, “I wish Christmas really WAS a whole week long.”
“It'd probably kill every mom and dad out there, but... yea, that'd be cool,” Zeke said, chuckling. “So, this was a good idea, wasn't it?”
“Comin' here? Yeeea,” Torrin said. His smile faded a little, however. “But... it's a little bit... sad.”
“What is?”
“That Kiki couldn't come, too.”
Kiki... that'd been how Vicky, Zeke's mom, had introduced herself as. Wherever she'd gotten THAT nickname for a grandmother, no one could say. But the fact that she'd been brought up now by her grandson was telling. “Did you like her?” Zeke asked, trying hard to keep smiling.
“Yea. She was so funny, like-like when she took us shopping, and she got the lemonade, and she made a fish face?” Torrin's smile grew again before continuing, “And she said she'd sucked the straw too hard and her face was STUCK like that!”
“Hah, yea...” Zeke had gotten a kick out of the woman pretending she needed to go to the doctor to fix her sudden, rare disease, “Oh no, I have fish-face-itis!” before telling Torrin she'd heard that it could be cured by a grandson's kiss. In those few, silly minutes in the food court, Zeke had seen the possibilities, the hopes that maybe Torrin as her grandson meant she'd visit more than once a year. Now that those hopes been dashed, Zeke had to keep up the front-not for his sake, but Torrin's. “Sorry she couldn't stay. But she'd a busy lady, with her job, travelling...”
“I thought she went to a party? Down in t'city, with friends and stuff.”
“Well... you know,” Zeke said, the words coming out in an awkward mumble. HE didn't know, how could he expect a four-year old to understand? Hoping to get some sort of message across, one that could be given as gently as possible, Zeke ran a hand over Torrin's head and said, “Like I said, she's really busy. When I was little, I had nannies, went to after-school stuff instead of going home... it was hard sometimes.”
“Like... she wasn't home? Like, ever?” Torrin asked.
“At night. It's sorta like when you're at the daycare, at Daddy's school-only a lot longer, then with other people at home but... not Mom.”
Torrin made a face. “Yuck.”
“What?”
“I'd hate being stuck at my school allll day,” the boy drawled.
'Yea, you would,' Zeke thought, but he managed a chuckle. “Hey, I thought you liked your school. Especially that girl... Nina?” he said, referring to the little redhead Torrin liked talking about every chance he got. Sure enough, the boy made a shy grin and blushed.
“Well, yea, it's fun. But I like being home better,” he said.
“Me too. Believe me... if we won the lottery, we'd stay home all the time,” Zeke said.
“Would I have to go to Kindergarten?”
Zeke chuckled again, harder. “Yup. Sorry.”
Torrin made a long sigh then yawned. “But... if we were rich, then...” he yawned again, making Zeke shake his head and lean down to kiss his forehead.
“You'd better get to sleep before Santa gets here. You know how it goes, he won't show up if you're still awake,” Zeke told him.
“Yea, I-oh!” Torrin's eyes flew open and he looked panicked. “But, but... wait! He doesn't know I'm here, in Ohio! What if he leaves my pressies in Connedicut??”
“C'mon, he knows everything. Anyway, I think Daddy called his hotline at the North Pole to let him know,” Zeke said. “Just in case.”
“Oh. Hope he got the mes...”
Another yawn, from a boy who still believed in Santa Claus. Zeke gave him another kiss on his brow and stood. “He did. Now get some sleep,” he said. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love too,” Torrin mumbled sleepily before closing his eyes, a smile on his face. Zeke walked sideways to stare at it, the glow in Torrin's face easy to see in the dim lamplight coming through the cracked open doorway. Before leaving, Zeke looked around the room; some things were still the same, like the shelves nailed onto the wall which had once held awards and trinkets of Casey's. Some were very different, namely that the other side of the room had been modified to accommodate Mr. Connor's work-from-home office. Zeke began wondering what they'd do to Torrin's old bedroom when he left home. His chest tightened and he bit his lip. 'Don't DO that, not now,' Zeke thought as he finally left, shutting the door behind him.
Despite the happy scene he found downstairs in the living room, Casey and his parents setting up Torrin's board game 'Apples to Apples' for themselves, Zeke still felt a weight on his chest and shoulders. Casey looked over and grinned. “Is he passed-out?” he asked.
“On his way, yea,” Zeke replied.
“Cool. We'll get the Santa gifts ready, but... sit-in, we haven't started yet,” Casey said, patting the empty spot next to him on the floor.
“Um... actually, I need to head out and get some smokes,” Zeke lied. He needed a smoke, and had three packs mere yards away in his bag by the door. He shifted feet, asking, “The place by the 'Stop & Shop' in town, they're open late on Christmas Eve still, right?”
“Should be; they're Muslim, I think,” Mrs. Connor said.
“I thought they were Hindu?” Mr. Connor added. “Do Hindus celebrate Christmas...?”
Zeke shrugged. “I'll take my chances. Sorry, I'll hop in next game?”
Nodding slowly, Casey said, “Sure, sweets. Oh... pick me up a five-hour shot. And some chocolate.”
“'K, anyone else got requests?”
Mr. Connor said, “Get a couple good cigars, I think they have a humidor,” while Mrs. Connor began worrying over news reports about someone dying after downing a few of the energy-shots Casey apparently couldn't open his eyes without. Zeke nodded, grabbed his coat, promised to be back soon and left the house. The bitter, skin-shattering wind-chill factor was gone, leaving the air cold but still. Zeke lit a cigarette from his almost-empty pack, got in the car and drove off.
He didn't go straight to the store, however. Instead of turning left at the end of Ash, he went right to head onto Dwight Street. Two more lefts and one more right got him to Bell Avenue. His face felt tight as he approached number twenty; the whole street was lined with cars, a large concentration of them being in his old driveway and at the curb in front of the large house. A spot across the street at twenty-one was empty, however, so he pulled in, took a heavy, shaky drag from his cigarette and stared at the porch.
It would've been nice if this was still his house, as it seemed full of people, light and color. Had his parents ever bothered putting up long, multi-colored lights in the bushes like the scene he stared at? And the tree, easily seen through the front windows; the high ceilings did indeed accommodate Redwood-sized trees, whoever living here now proving it. Silver and blue bulbs illuminating each bough, piece of tinsel and shiny ornament made a magical sight inside, no doubt decorated with the utmost of care and attention to detail. Zeke DID grow up with Christmas trees, or Christmas tree singular, the old fake number perhaps still somewhere in the basement of the house. He hadn't taken it with him.
Zeke stiffened when the front door opened and a man stepped out. He carried a large gift bag and a foil-covered tray of whatever wonderful food had been served at this party; he was followed by another man and a woman, the latter carrying a large, very-obvious pregnant stomach. Though Zeke couldn't make out what they were saying through his cracked-open window, the conversation was dotted with heavy chuckles. Hugs were given, the guest lingering with the woman to pat her stomach and lean down to talk to the unborn babe inside. When he finally headed to the stairs, he waved back at them, calling, “Maybe I'll have a Christmas niece, best present ever!”
An uncle. Zeke had one named Ray, but couldn't remember what he looked like. Zeke sank back and kept watching, feeling teary.
'Wish I'd had this,' he muttered sadly in his mind. He closed his eyes and imagined what Christmas with Vicky could've been like; she'd loved their tree, decorated not quite as elaborately as THIS family's but with all of their favorite ornaments. A lot of them were Torrin-made, a toddler and preschooler's contributions consisting of mismatched colors, glitter messily applied to construction paper and popsicle-stick stars, every last one of them more valuable than any crystal bauble. Vicky had run a finger over the silver-glittered star at the top then down a lush, green branch, saying that she'd always liked real Christmas trees better.
'Then why that fake piece of shit every year?' Zeke had wanted to reply, adding that his OWN homemade ornaments had been just as good as Torrin's yet never displayed. Mrs. Vicky Tyler, art critic extraordinaire, wouldn't have been able to impress rich, well-to-do party guests with anything Zeke could have hung on the tree. Perhaps he hadn't needed to bring it up, though-not when Torrin had grinned, grabbed the newest ornament he'd made out of green construction paper and his school picture and asked Zeke, “Can I give this to Kiki, for a pressie?” The expression she'd made when she looked between them, telling Torrin that she didn't have a tree to hang it on anyway, “That's meant for THIS tree, honey,” had held a secret guilt that only Zeke could notice. Of course, he'd said nothing, telling Torrin he could make her her very own, if he wanted.
He hadn't, choosing to make her a card instead. He'd made it in secret and planned on giving it to her Christmas morning during present-opening. When she'd made her new plans and announced them, he'd run upstairs in a panic; before Zeke could bellow at his mother for making her grandson run off to his room and cry, Torrin had rushed back down, holding it out to her. For My KIKI! the top had read, a beautiful Christmas tree drawn and colored underneath. On the inside was a picture of Santa saying HOHOHOOO!, and the words, 'Love Torrin'. It was good to see the woman's face flash with guilt before she'd sat on the couch to give him a big hug, saying she'd come back the next Christmas. Whether that happened or not didn't matter, as she'd have to meet them in Ohio. No more chances would be taken, Zeke promised that.
Past all of the emotion piling up and making Zeke cry, there was something else; despite his own upbringing, despite his lack of real love through an honest-to-goodness family, despite the many nannies that came and went due to his parents' strict, unwarranted rules as to how 'their son' needed to be cared for, Zeke wasn't a father. He was Daddy, capitalized and made official through a child who knew, without any doubt in the world, that he was Daddy's most precious little person. The other Daddy was sometimes even better than Zeke's version, even if his DNA was nowhere to be seen in their son. That meant there'd be no divorce, no custody battles, no absentee parenting. That meant that it didn't matter that he didn't live in this house anymore and the new, wonderful-looking family inside of it had never been his. It hit Zeke like a battering ram, all at once, stopping the tears immediately: he was a good man who'd held onto enough hope in his miserable life, enough to be everything he was nowadays. There was a family that loved him, not just because he treated their son like the king he was, but because Zeke himself was their adopted king, next-in-line-an heir worthy enough to be called 'son'. Most of all, there was a beautiful, smart and utterly hilarious little prince Zeke was bringing up who didn't need a Kiki to make him feel treasured, not when he was surrounded by an impenetrable barrier of love as he was. Whoever Kiki would end up being to the boy was all up to Kiki, and no one else. Zeke would be damned if Torrin would ever feel at fault, that he 'wasn't enough'. After going through that pain and anguish for the many years he had, Zeke would make sure it'd never touch his own wonderful boy.
All of that was enough to start the engine again, but before he could put the car in drive, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He got it out and didn't bother checking the caller ID, knowing who it was. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back. Just wanted to ask if you hit the store yet,” Casey said.
“Um, no... sorry. Why?”
“Mom's stopped bugging-out about the five-hour stuff, wants to try one to see what it's like. That and a package of powdered donuts; she'd promised Torrin she'd have some the next time we came over. She didn't KNOW we were coming, so... yea.”
“Sure. On my way.”
“Mmm. I figured you'd have been there and back by now.”
Zeke nodded to himself as he edged from the spot and traveled down the road. “Yea, I-took a slight detour,” he replied.
“I know. I'd gone into your bag to see if you had any cigs when you brought Tory up to bed,” Casey said. “You okay?”
“Yea,” Zeke replied. He took a glance to the rearview at the lit-up, winter wonderland. He nodded again. “In fact, I'm better than okay. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“You.”
A small pause followed, ending with Casey's sigh. “Well, y'know,” he said.
“Yup. See you in a bit, babe.”
“Love ya.”
“Love back,” Zeke said then hung up the phone with a smile. Another cigarette was lit and he drove on. Once at the store, he remembered how much cheaper cigarettes were in Ohio, compared to the East Coast. Two cartons were bought, along with a four-pack of shots, bag of powdered doughnuts, Casey's favorite 'Dove' dark chocolate, an Arizona iced tea for himself and not one cigar, but the whole box of the best the store had to offer. Zeke felt like there was something to celebrate, and there was.