Happy Holidays, maerhys! [Part 2]
Back to part 1!
For the second morning Dave wakes on his sofa, to sunlight and sound, and a blinding headache. The light pulls me under and I keep on caving in…
Today he needs to pack and get himself to Blue Springs for Christmas Eve, possibly beyond the reach of the goddamn Christmas ghosts. So he needs to get his shit together, can't afford to spend the morning surfing gossip sites about Archie's mission and trying to deal with the sense of crushing guilt. It doesn't much work, though.
Finally he breaks down in the middle of stuffing presents into his carry-on luggage and calls Arch on his cell.
"Hey, Cook!" Arch sounds surprised to hear from him. "What's up?"
"I just ..." Dave isn't sure how to put this. A couple of ghosts think I'm messing up my life and yours by not letting myself be with you. "I got your email about mission, thought I'd give you a call."
"Thanks," says Arch; he sounds like he's smiling. "That really means a lot to me."
Crap, Archie, I didn't say I thought it was a good idea.. "Two years is a long time for mission, isn't it?"
"It's the normal length of time?" Arch sounds like he's at his mom's house; Dave can hear the usual Archuleta-household sounds, squealing kids and teenagers in the background.
"I know you really enjoyed your visit to India this year," Dave says, weakly.
"Yeah!" says Archie. "Which is why I decided to serve out there. I think I really connected with the people and the culture. I feel I can really make a difference there, you know?"
"You make a difference everywhere you go, Arch," says Dave, and this, at least, is 100% true. "Why didn't you tell me about this when we last saw each other?"
Arch sounds uncomfortable. "Uh, things weren't finalized then. And there wasn't really a right time? And I just ... I just thought maybe you wouldn't understand."
Dave feels his throat close up. Where did I go astray from you. "I kind of don't," he confesses, before he can stop himself. "I'm sorry. Arch, I love you, I'll always support everything you do. But I don't know God the way you do, I don't have the same sense inside of me that tells me what's the right thing to do."
Arch is quiet for a moment. Someone in the background shrieks that she's going to pound someone else into the dirt. Then he says, softly, "You don't have to think you know God for Him to love you. And you do know the right thing, Cook. You just have to learn to listen to yourself."
I don't know how, and I don't know how to manage without you. Please don't go. But instead, Dave says, "I've got a plane to catch in a few. Headed to my mom's for Christmas."
"Say hi to Beth and Drew and the kids for me!" says Arch.
"I will." Dave swallows. "When are you off to Delhi? Can I ... can I come over before you leave?"
"Sure! I'll be in L.A. after New Year's," Arch says. "And you know you're welcome at my mom's house anytime."
"I do. I do know that." Dave leans his forehead against the wall. "Merry Christmas, Arch."
"God bless," Arch says, and hangs up.
*
Dave spends the flight to Blue Springs thinking about the different ways his conversation with Arch could have gone. That, as well as medicating himself into a state of whiskey dick. When he first started traveling first class he was surprised those little bottles contained real alcohol; these days he's an old hand at putting them away.
If his mom notices the fumes of Jack evaporating off his Neiman Marcus parka, she doesn't say anything, just holds him close and tells him it's good to have him home.
"It's good to be home," he replies, and it is: his childhood home with the new roof and renovations and extension wing that his first record had paid for, the picket fence painted freshly white, Christmas lights strung across the awnings and around the door frame.
Inside, it's even better, with smells of turkey and cranberry sauce, presents under the tree, stockings for the kids above the fireplace. Kendra, Gage and Gracie will spend Christmas Eve here with the Forakers before heading out to Indianapolis for Christmas and Boxing Day with Dave's dad -- the holidays are hard with grandkids and split families, and though Stan and Beth have grown cordial over the years, they'll never be the kind of happy blended family which celebrates the season together with all the new husbands and wives and stepkids, there's just too much baggage there.
Dave's not planning on leaving Missouri, of course. The commute will be hell on Christmas Day, and much as he loves his old man and gets along with Viki and her kids and the new grandkids, he isn't going to put himself through that for anyone.
So: the celebrity son and brother and uncle returns to stash presents under the tree, to kiss his sister-in-law and let the kids crawl over him. Drew and their stepdad are watching the holiday game on TV and he fits himself between them on the couch. The comforts of home finally seep into his bones and he relaxes after two days of living in the bowels of the Twilight Zone. For all its dysfunction, nothing's more important than family.
His mom shoos him away when he tries to help her in the kitchen, so he ends up taking an afternoon nap in his old room, in the unrenovated part of the house - Grenvell’s kids and Kendra have been given the guest rooms in the fancy extension wing and there's no place for anyone else.
Beth's kept his room pretty much as it was when he'd left for college, with its posters of Led Zeppelin and a young Stone Pony-era Springsteen, and the narrow single bed which had seen him through his parents' divorce and many crushes and inevitable heartbreak. It had been the place where he'd lost his virginity to Leslie Silverman from the drama club, and where he'd spent his teenage years pretty much continuously jacking off to Patti Smith and a multitude of dark-eyed beauties.
Maybe it's conditioning, or the residual ghosts of old hormones and lust, because Dave soon finds himself in a quasi-teenage state of horniness. Well, whiskey can't work indefinitely.
He tries to think about Leslie when he jacks himself: her black hair and small, high breasts and her eagerness to please, about blonde, serious Jada, his latest hookup from This Loud Tour, but everything becomes Arch, Arch's face and lips and lean, strong body, the way he closes his eyes when he sings, the swell of his mouth in the dark, and Dave cries out and comes violently over himself and can't stop.
He feels weird and shaky and near tears when he's done. Can't stop that, either, seems like.
He takes a shower and changes into the red Christmas sweater Beth bought him last year. Plus: it's a little baggy, the new exercise regime has been good for the waistline. Minus: it has a cute reindeer on the front.
Drew's matching green sweater has a sprig of holly on it. Last year, his little brother wore it around the Christmas party circuit, claiming that it was mistletoe. Dave recalls he drew something like a 50% hit rate with the ladies, which was not a bad ratio at all.
This year, the faux-mistletoe sweater works on Gracie and Kendra and Beth, but Dave suspects it's only because they're related to him. Dave wonders why Drew hasn't brought a girlfriend home, or an experimental college boyfriend, then amends this to: he's not sure anyone would want to seriously date his handsome, messy, irresponsible, infuriating kid brother.
Maybe he and Drew just weren't meant for soul-mates and forever love, or they'd been burnt too badly by the mess of their parents' relationships and re-relationships. Maybe Drew has Christmas ghosts waiting in his future.
And on that note ...
Dave digs into his mom's delicious roast turkey while keeping an eye out for an uninvited dinner guest. He mulls the wine and dishes out Christmas pudding, all the while on edge for the appearance of the supernatural. Nothing happens, though, except for Gage asking Uncle Dave how come he's so jumpy tonight; Dave, obviously, can't answer truthfully.
"Merry Christmas, bro," Drew says, topping up his glass, and Dave figures that abstinence didn't help on the second night and knocks it back. Maybe the distance will put the ghosts off, like they have some jurisdictional boundaries, or they won't come if he gets to sleep first.
Or maybe they won't come if he's got company at his side at all times.
Which is why he helps his stepdad with the dishes, and reads bedtime stories with the kids, and after midnight walks his mom up to her room. Finally, it's just Drew and him on their mom's sofa in the den, finishing off the mulled wine and Beth's Christmas cookies, kicking back with some old black and white Christmas movie on the TV.
Dave could have sworn the movie showing is It's A Wonderful Life, except there seem to be unwashed ragamuffins prancing around onscreen and a cranky bearded dude in old-fashioned striped pajamas, and a white-faced guy in a sheet; what do you know, it's actually A Christmas Carol, and, oh, fuck.
He glances at his brother, who's suddenly asleep on the sofa in his Christmassy sweater, glasses askew on his unseeing face.
"Dammit, Drew, wake up!"
"He can't hear you," says a mellow, cheerful voice, and when Dave turns back to the TV he sees Jim Cantiello on the flat-screen in high-definition technicolor.
"Oh, dude, really?" Dave doesn't know whether to be amused or horrified. "Well, at least you're not Larry King."
"I remember when you told Larry you got your eye tattoo for Archie," Jim says. He's wearing a red Christmas sweater with snowflakes and a Santa hat, a combo Dave has seen him wear before. "Great line, that. Are there any words to say that could ever mean enough? Gotta say you always had some slick comebacks."
"It wasn't a line," Dave says, knowing he sounds defensive. "And how about you? Do you remember things the real Cantiello knows about?"
Jim's doppelganger cocks his head to one side. "I remember everything about you, David. I remember what you told Seacrest when you got that golden ticket. I remember the story TMZ ran when it got out you told Archie you loved him. I remember when that reporter asked Arch if he'd ever been kissed, and what you said to that deejay about Archie's sexuality. I remember what your 14 tattoo really means, where you got both of us melting together until we become something new. I remember the first time the Anthemic played in Asia, the first time you guys played in Wembley Stadium, your first Rolling Stone cover, your first Playgirl, your first DUI."
He pauses, stares at the expression on Dave's face. "Oh, those things haven't happened yet? My bad. Fact is, I remember your future, and I'm here to show it to you."
"I wish you wouldn't," Dave whispers. He's shaking, he feels light-headed, he's having trouble breathing. "One thing I've discovered, since you guys started visiting, is that ignorance is actually really under-rated."
"Don't be afraid," Ghost Jim says, almost gently. Then, "But you're going to have to see this, boyo, ready or not. The fall of who we are is getting closer, and I'm just holding on until it's over. So that maybe, once we're done, you have a chance to save yourself."
He makes a summoning gesture, and the TV lights up with rapid headlines and media clips, one after another:
BATTLE OF THE DAVIDS, GOLIACHULETA K.O.? (L.A. Times, 2008)
COOK TO ARCHULETA: "I LOVE YOU, THIS IS OUR MAGIC RAINBOW" (TMZ, 2008)
IDOL (B)ROMANCES - IS KRADAM COOKLETA v. 2.0? (PerezHilton.com, 2009)
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH DAVIDS: IDOLS TOO BUSY TO DATE, "MARRIED TO THEIR JOB" (Manila Lifestyle, 2009)
DAVID ARCHULETA: IS DAVID COOK "HIS KIND OF PERFECT?" (TMZ, 2010)
ARCHULETA SPLITS FROM WEG, JIVE (Hollywood Reporter, 2011)
DAVID COOK SAYS "THE LAST GOODBYE" TO DAVID ARCHULETA? (Entertainment Weekly, 2011)
FADE INTO DAVID COOK: SOPHOMORE ALBUM FINALLY GOES PLATINUM (Missouri Herald, 2011)
DAVID ARCHULETA TO SERVE TWO YEAR MISSION (Salt Lake City Tribune, 2012)
THIS LOUD WORLD: RCA RECORDING ARTIST DAVID COOK ANNOUNCES EUROPEAN TOUR (Blender, 2012)
TEENAGE FANS WILL WAIT FOR ARCHIE - SIGN PETITION NOW (365x2forArchie.org, 2012)
NASHVILLE MEGASTAR CARRIE UNDERWOOD ANNOUNCES SPLIT, FELLOW IDOL DAVID COOK IMPLICATED? (National Enquirer, 2013)
JESSICA SIMPSON TELLS ALL ABOUT ADAM LEVINE, DAVID COOK (Nashville Post, 2013)
RECORDING STAR DAVID COOK PLEADS NO CONTEST TO DUI CHARGES (Hollyscoop!, 2013)
SINGER RYAN STAR TO DIVORCE, SAYS RCA ARTIST DAVID COOK NOT INVOLVED (Entertainment Weekly, 2013)
THIS LOUD WORLD LIVE EP "TOUR DE FORCE" (Melody Maker, 2013)
GRAMMY WINNER DAVID COOK LEAVES L.A. REHAB ON THANKSGIVING (TMZ, 2013)
ARCHULETA FOUNDS ORPHANAGE IN CHENNAI, TO MARRY IN SLC (Salt Lake City Tribune, 2014).
The big black letters fill his world; the screen pans back to second-last headline about rehab, and then pans out to a newspaper being read by David Archuleta.
In this not-so-distant future Archie is looking older, leaner, his pale skin tanned gold after two years under a far-flung sun. His hair's cropped close to his skull like an ascetic's. He's wearing a formal black tux, white shirt, shiny shoes; he stands at a desk, framed by a window with a view of distant, snow-covered mountains.
He grips the newspaper, and the light shines off the band of gold on his ring finger.
The angle on Arch's face is lousy, but it looks like he's pretty affected by the COOK LEAVES L.A. REHAB headline. Dave can't blame him, the news that he's evidently succumbed to the cliche of sex, drugs and rock and roll in 2014 is hugely affecting, more than the apparent hook-up with Jessica Simpson, even.
Someone knocks at the door, and Archie says, "I'm in here!" and puts the newspaper face-up on the desk.
The door opens on a young, red-headed woman, hardly more than a girl, wearing a simple white wedding dress. "There you are," she says, and walks over to take his hand, her wedding ring visible for an instant before she laces her fingers through his.
Arch smiles at her. "Everybody settled in?"
"Yeah, your parents are even being civil to each other, and my stepdad is actually sober, on account of all us Mormons at this reception."
"Sober is awesome," says Archie, glancing at the newspaper.
She follows his gaze, and seems to understand at once. "Are you okay, hon?"
"Yeah," Arch says. "I was wondering if I should've invited him to our wedding."
"I get that you didn't want to," she says gently. "It makes two of us. You know I couldn't bring myself to invite Eli either."
"Well, that and I'd punch his lights out if he ever came near you again," Arch says, and they both giggle.
"Maybe I'd punch Cook too! Though I guess it's not fair to hit a drunk."
"No, it isn't," Archie says; he opens his arms and she steps into them.
"They say you never get over your first love," she says. "I get it, David, it's really okay."
"I never want to lie to you," he murmurs into her bright hair.
"And I want you to be yourself with me," she says. "Even if it means you still love Cook, or still think about other guys. I'm your wife now, your forever family, it means I'll support you always no matter what."
Arch shakes his head. "I'm not thinking about other guys, Isabel. I loved one man, and he didn't love me back, and that's it. I'm married to you now, before God and our church, and I'm going to do my best to think about only you and make you happy, deal?"
"Okay, fine, deal." She wrinkles her nose at him. Her eyes are green as grass; as someone whose job involves a lot of looking at photos of himself, Dave can see that they're the same color as his own. He wonders if Arch realized that when he decided to marry her. Wonders what this future Arch has admitted and not admitted to himself, let alone to his new bride.
Archie says, "Also, I've reached a decision, which I want to share with the wedding party. My dad's not gonna like it, but I'm not sure he gets a say."
"I like this plan already," she says, grinning. "Tell me."
"Not sure if you will," Arch says seriously. "I'm not gonna go back to secular music for a while. I know the plan was for me to come back to it when I got home to the States, but the industry has gotten so ungodly this last couple of years. I mean, Cook was the best, the strongest of all of us, you know? And it seems even he couldn't hold out against the drugs, the sex scandals. I can't risk that for us."
"But you love music," Isabel says, hesitantly. "You could reach out to so many people that way, change their lives for the better."
"I can still reach out to people," Arch says. "This month's numbers at the orphanage are at a record high! And there’s so much more work to do."
"Whatever you decide," Isabel tells him. "I'm signed on for life, remember?"
He clasps her around the waist. "What do you think of Guatemala?" he asks.
"I think it'll drive your dad crazy, and mine."
"Then that's where we'll go," Archie says decisively. "Far away from this mess. For as long as it takes."
This time Dave says No; shout it into the screen with all his strength, but the big black headlines come anyway, crowding out the picture of Arch.
DAVID COOK BUSTED AT AIRPORT FOR POSSESSION, and SINGER SERVES TIME FOR ASSAULT, and ARCHULETA EXTENDS HIATUS INDEFINITELY, 2015, 2016; Dave shouts, “No, goddamnit, not this future, I'm not letting this happen!" and the screen goes blank.
Dave gets up purposefully; he's gathering his strength to yank the flat-screen off the wall when it flickers to life again.
"Sorry, dude," says not-Jim; "I was always on your side, in your corner. And Archie's, too. Just so you know, it's not all on you. A little boy, the world in tow, he didn't stand a chance they said. No shame in not being strong enough, either of you."
Dave says, breathing unsteadily, "If you, or Ghost-you, were ever in my corner, then you'll tell me how to fucking fix things so this doesn't happen!"
"How to fix this?" Ghost Jim smiles gently. "I think you know. You just get one shot, too. If the sky keeps falling, and the night keeps calling, you never let the sun go down and fall to pieces."
He cocks a finger out of the screen at Dave, and although Dave swears and struggles and tries to hold on, the quiet darkness finally overtakes him and drags him down.
*
Dave opens his eyes to sunlight and an unfamiliar ceiling.
I'm cutting old ties from the world outside ‘cause it's over my head…
For a jagged instant, he thinks he might be in rehab, trapped in the nightmare future signaled by unforgiving black headlines, but when he flings himself upright he realizes he's back in his old room, in his present. The bells tolling outside his window remind him it's Christmas Day.
The shower isn't hot enough to wash away the chilling cold of the years ahead filled with bad sex and drugs and loneliness. He isn't sure anything would be nearly hot enough.
After he bundles himself into jeans and an old Royals sweatshirt, though, he feels something unfolding deep inside him.
Give me one more quiet night before this loud morning gets it right and does me in.
A feeling, a sense of purpose, unmistakable as day.
How to fix this? I think you know.
The kids are all already up when he comes downstairs, squealing and full of sugar, surrounded by the debris of ribbon and wrapping paper and brand new presents. Kendra and his step-sibs are trying to referee. Beth and Grenvell are making coffee, Drew is lying on the couch in exactly the same position as Dave had left him last night.
"Merry Christmas, guys," he says, and walks over to kiss his mom on the cheek.
Kendra says, "What's with the bag, David? I thought you weren't coming with me to Stan's."
"I'm not," Dave says, and Beth stares at him.
"You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Would you believe me if I told you I have? I'm really sorry, Mom," he tells her.
"I see you have to go," she says. "Whoever he or she is, I hope they deserve it. You know, your dad and I may not have worked things out between us, but it doesn't mean relationships don't work."
"I do know that," he says. "At least, I know it now."
"Please drive safely, David."
"I promise," Dave says, and kisses her goodbye.
The commute to the Kansas City airport is as bad as he expects; the flights are overbooked but somehow Roger has managed to squeeze him onto the last seat in first class to Salt Lake City.
He eats the pre-packed airline meal, drinks nothing stronger than coffee, and hopes he's not too late.
The Archuleta house is at the end of a quiet street. Dave was here on Arch's eighteenth birthday, before the divorce, and he'd visited a couple of times after. He knows Lupe and the kids will be preparing for Christmas dinner per the more austere LDS custom. The sun sets early in winter in Utah and the Christmas lights around the fence and the firs in the yard twinkle in the gathering dusk, against the snow.
Dave climbs out of the cab, wondering if Jeff is going to be at dinner. He figures not; this is one more home where the theory of a happy, amicable blended family holiday hasn't worked in practice.
Still, they are each so much more than just the sum of their parents' failures and childhood disappointments. It's time to put the past aside. Dave shoulders his bag and his newfound courage.
ARCHULETA TO MARRY, TAKES HIATUS FROM MUSIC. No.
He holds his breath as the doorbell rings a jolly Christmas tune, Lupe must have gotten it made custom. The sound of footsteps, and then the door opens on David Archuleta, in the flesh, not in flashback or flash-forward but solid and breathing and right there.
"Cook!" Archie says, shocked. "Did you call...? What're you doing here?"
You only get one shot.
Dave says, hoping his voice is steady, "You got it, the song was about you. But I was wrong, because I'm not ready to say goodbye to you."
Arch stands very still for a moment. Then, tentatively, "What's happened?"
"You're gonna think I've gone crazy," Dave says. "But I'm done with not telling you the truth, starting now. I've had the weirdest Christmas experience, and it made me realize I had to see you. Can I come in, or maybe we can take a walk?"
"Sure," says Arch, grabbing a jacket from behind the door. "Mama, I'm headed out for a bit," he calls into the house.
"Be back before dinner!" Lupe calls; with her mother's radar-like hearing, or ESP, she adds, "Also, bring Cook with you!" and, blushing, Arch ushers Dave back outside in the direction of the snowy, tree-lined street.
"So, what was that weird Christmas experience?" Arch wants to know, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Dave falls into step beside him, aching to touch his hand, not knowing the kind of reception he'd get. I loved this one man, and he didn't love me back. "It was a real Christmas Carol thing. Three ghosts, from my past, present and future, the genuine shebang."
When Arch doesn't say something right away, Dave steals a glance at him. Fortunately, Archie doesn't look like he thinks Dave needs to be institutionalized; Arch does genuinely believe in angels and demons, and so ghosts probably aren't much of a stretch. What the heck, Dave now believes in everything.
"Well, it does sound pretty crazy," Archie says carefully. "What did the ghosts show you?"
"The future. One future. That I can maybe change if I'm not too chickenshit to do that." Dave takes a deep breath. Time to fix things.
His heart's pounding so loudly he can hardly hear himself speak. "You were right, all those years ago. I was scared. I was a lousy boyfriend, and I was afraid to love anyone or to take responsibility for anything. I messed up my life and yours, and I'm going to mess it up even more if I keep running away from you."
He stops in the snow-covered street to look at Arch. The Utah sun is setting, casting Arch's face in light and shadow, Dave has never seen anything more beautiful. "Seems like there'll never be a more right time for us. I love you, I want to be with you, and I'm not scared anymore."
Archie looks at him, searchingly, as if he can't quite believe Dave's saying these things after all this time. Maybe he doesn't believe it, maybe Dave is too late to fix anything.
Then Arch smiles slowly, and touches a cold finger to Dave's chin. "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The feeling," says Arch, musingly. "I knew you could hear it inside you, if you learned to listen hard enough. I've felt that way about three things in my life: God, and music, and you."
When Dave understands what it is Arch is telling him, his knees go weak with gratitude. "Well, it seems I've finally learned to listen to the feeling, too," he says, and holds out a hand.
Archie doesn't take it, though, and then Dave understands the rest of what Arch is saying. "And I guess I need to learn to feel that way about God, because you're going to tell me you're still going on your mission, aren't you."
"Yes," Arch whispers. "I love you too, but this doesn't change things about the mission."
Arch's eyelashes shine golden in the sunset; Dave's never wanted anything more in his whole life. He reaches out and cups the side of Arch's face. "I don't want to lose you," he says.
"You don't have to," Arch says, and leans in and kisses him.
Arch's lips are cold but soft, softer than Dave remembers; he wraps his arms around Dave in the street and draws him in, and Dave never wants the moment to end.
And then it starts to snow, dizzying flakes coming down out of the sky, like angels singing joyful carols on this Christmas Day.
Arch laughs and turns his face to the sky. "It's turned out to be some Christmas!"
"What, you mean, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away?" Dave murmurs, trying to catch his breath. "Because I'll wait for you, Archuleta, as long as it takes. I'll write you songs every month you're away, it'll feel like I'm right there with you."
"We're only supposed to listen to worship songs on mission," says Arch, grinning.
"Then I suppose I better start writing some. David Cook, gospel singer-songwriter, who'd have thought it?"
"I would," Arch says. "I told you God loves you, Cook, even though you don't know much about Him right now."
"Well, I will admit to being kind of jealous," Dave confesses. "He gets to have you all to Himself for two years. After which He'll have to get used to sharing your ass with pop music, and with me."
Arch snickers and kisses him again. "Have to say, I actually kind of like the jealous look on you."
Dave snorts. "Don't be too sure. Told you, I'm a pretty lousy boyfriend. But I'm going to do better, I promise."
"Enough to put your future on hold for me for two years?" asks Arch, slowly.
The flakes of snow hang in Archie's dark hair, turn his eyebrows to silver. Dave has a glimpse of what Arch will look like when he's older and graying, full of time and years, but always with Dave at his side.
"There's no future for me without you in it," says Dave. "And I actually mean that literally, because I've seen it, and I don't want to be there."
Arch holds out his hand, and Dave takes it blindly.
"Now you don't have to," Arch says, softly. "You wrote some other song, didn’t you? Nothing's going to stop us now, cause we were born to live forever."
If the world stops turning, I'll be right here with you. Dave says, "We better head home, your mom will be wondering whether I'd taken advantage of you before you can even make it out to mission."
Archie chokes back laughter. "You don't have to be a virgin to qualify for mission! Uh, not that that's an invitation or anything. Or, um, maybe it is," and Dave picks him up and kisses him until neither of them feels the cold.
"I'm sorry, I have this feeling that it would be wrong to deflower my boyfriend in the snow outside his house on Christmas Day, right before he goes off to serve the church."
"Even if that sounds like a really good idea?" whispers Arch against his mouth.
Dave sighs. "Especially then. Not least because sex in the snow is actually really uncomfortable."
"How handy for me to be dating a man with a past," Archie says, grinning. He's really warm, and fits into Dave's arms like he belongs there; Dave doesn't need the three ghosts or angels who'd traveled into his life this Christmas to tell him that's true.
He's a man with a future, now, thanks to those ghosts and their big guy, and a chance to make things right. He'll have to tell Arch the whole story one day. Maybe when Arch is back from mission. Or tomorrow, if Arch asks.
For now, it's enough to hold Archie's hand and walk by his side in the snow.
In the distance, church bells start to ring, reminding Arch and Cook to start heading in to dinner, and calling the faithful to celebrate: peace on Earth, goodwill to men, for this day the King, the King is born.
"Merry Christmas, Cook," Archie says softly.
"God bless us, every one," says Dave, surprising himself because he believes it, finally, and holds on tight.
For the second morning Dave wakes on his sofa, to sunlight and sound, and a blinding headache. The light pulls me under and I keep on caving in…
Today he needs to pack and get himself to Blue Springs for Christmas Eve, possibly beyond the reach of the goddamn Christmas ghosts. So he needs to get his shit together, can't afford to spend the morning surfing gossip sites about Archie's mission and trying to deal with the sense of crushing guilt. It doesn't much work, though.
Finally he breaks down in the middle of stuffing presents into his carry-on luggage and calls Arch on his cell.
"Hey, Cook!" Arch sounds surprised to hear from him. "What's up?"
"I just ..." Dave isn't sure how to put this. A couple of ghosts think I'm messing up my life and yours by not letting myself be with you. "I got your email about mission, thought I'd give you a call."
"Thanks," says Arch; he sounds like he's smiling. "That really means a lot to me."
Crap, Archie, I didn't say I thought it was a good idea.. "Two years is a long time for mission, isn't it?"
"It's the normal length of time?" Arch sounds like he's at his mom's house; Dave can hear the usual Archuleta-household sounds, squealing kids and teenagers in the background.
"I know you really enjoyed your visit to India this year," Dave says, weakly.
"Yeah!" says Archie. "Which is why I decided to serve out there. I think I really connected with the people and the culture. I feel I can really make a difference there, you know?"
"You make a difference everywhere you go, Arch," says Dave, and this, at least, is 100% true. "Why didn't you tell me about this when we last saw each other?"
Arch sounds uncomfortable. "Uh, things weren't finalized then. And there wasn't really a right time? And I just ... I just thought maybe you wouldn't understand."
Dave feels his throat close up. Where did I go astray from you. "I kind of don't," he confesses, before he can stop himself. "I'm sorry. Arch, I love you, I'll always support everything you do. But I don't know God the way you do, I don't have the same sense inside of me that tells me what's the right thing to do."
Arch is quiet for a moment. Someone in the background shrieks that she's going to pound someone else into the dirt. Then he says, softly, "You don't have to think you know God for Him to love you. And you do know the right thing, Cook. You just have to learn to listen to yourself."
I don't know how, and I don't know how to manage without you. Please don't go. But instead, Dave says, "I've got a plane to catch in a few. Headed to my mom's for Christmas."
"Say hi to Beth and Drew and the kids for me!" says Arch.
"I will." Dave swallows. "When are you off to Delhi? Can I ... can I come over before you leave?"
"Sure! I'll be in L.A. after New Year's," Arch says. "And you know you're welcome at my mom's house anytime."
"I do. I do know that." Dave leans his forehead against the wall. "Merry Christmas, Arch."
"God bless," Arch says, and hangs up.
*
Dave spends the flight to Blue Springs thinking about the different ways his conversation with Arch could have gone. That, as well as medicating himself into a state of whiskey dick. When he first started traveling first class he was surprised those little bottles contained real alcohol; these days he's an old hand at putting them away.
If his mom notices the fumes of Jack evaporating off his Neiman Marcus parka, she doesn't say anything, just holds him close and tells him it's good to have him home.
"It's good to be home," he replies, and it is: his childhood home with the new roof and renovations and extension wing that his first record had paid for, the picket fence painted freshly white, Christmas lights strung across the awnings and around the door frame.
Inside, it's even better, with smells of turkey and cranberry sauce, presents under the tree, stockings for the kids above the fireplace. Kendra, Gage and Gracie will spend Christmas Eve here with the Forakers before heading out to Indianapolis for Christmas and Boxing Day with Dave's dad -- the holidays are hard with grandkids and split families, and though Stan and Beth have grown cordial over the years, they'll never be the kind of happy blended family which celebrates the season together with all the new husbands and wives and stepkids, there's just too much baggage there.
Dave's not planning on leaving Missouri, of course. The commute will be hell on Christmas Day, and much as he loves his old man and gets along with Viki and her kids and the new grandkids, he isn't going to put himself through that for anyone.
So: the celebrity son and brother and uncle returns to stash presents under the tree, to kiss his sister-in-law and let the kids crawl over him. Drew and their stepdad are watching the holiday game on TV and he fits himself between them on the couch. The comforts of home finally seep into his bones and he relaxes after two days of living in the bowels of the Twilight Zone. For all its dysfunction, nothing's more important than family.
His mom shoos him away when he tries to help her in the kitchen, so he ends up taking an afternoon nap in his old room, in the unrenovated part of the house - Grenvell’s kids and Kendra have been given the guest rooms in the fancy extension wing and there's no place for anyone else.
Beth's kept his room pretty much as it was when he'd left for college, with its posters of Led Zeppelin and a young Stone Pony-era Springsteen, and the narrow single bed which had seen him through his parents' divorce and many crushes and inevitable heartbreak. It had been the place where he'd lost his virginity to Leslie Silverman from the drama club, and where he'd spent his teenage years pretty much continuously jacking off to Patti Smith and a multitude of dark-eyed beauties.
Maybe it's conditioning, or the residual ghosts of old hormones and lust, because Dave soon finds himself in a quasi-teenage state of horniness. Well, whiskey can't work indefinitely.
He tries to think about Leslie when he jacks himself: her black hair and small, high breasts and her eagerness to please, about blonde, serious Jada, his latest hookup from This Loud Tour, but everything becomes Arch, Arch's face and lips and lean, strong body, the way he closes his eyes when he sings, the swell of his mouth in the dark, and Dave cries out and comes violently over himself and can't stop.
He feels weird and shaky and near tears when he's done. Can't stop that, either, seems like.
He takes a shower and changes into the red Christmas sweater Beth bought him last year. Plus: it's a little baggy, the new exercise regime has been good for the waistline. Minus: it has a cute reindeer on the front.
Drew's matching green sweater has a sprig of holly on it. Last year, his little brother wore it around the Christmas party circuit, claiming that it was mistletoe. Dave recalls he drew something like a 50% hit rate with the ladies, which was not a bad ratio at all.
This year, the faux-mistletoe sweater works on Gracie and Kendra and Beth, but Dave suspects it's only because they're related to him. Dave wonders why Drew hasn't brought a girlfriend home, or an experimental college boyfriend, then amends this to: he's not sure anyone would want to seriously date his handsome, messy, irresponsible, infuriating kid brother.
Maybe he and Drew just weren't meant for soul-mates and forever love, or they'd been burnt too badly by the mess of their parents' relationships and re-relationships. Maybe Drew has Christmas ghosts waiting in his future.
And on that note ...
Dave digs into his mom's delicious roast turkey while keeping an eye out for an uninvited dinner guest. He mulls the wine and dishes out Christmas pudding, all the while on edge for the appearance of the supernatural. Nothing happens, though, except for Gage asking Uncle Dave how come he's so jumpy tonight; Dave, obviously, can't answer truthfully.
"Merry Christmas, bro," Drew says, topping up his glass, and Dave figures that abstinence didn't help on the second night and knocks it back. Maybe the distance will put the ghosts off, like they have some jurisdictional boundaries, or they won't come if he gets to sleep first.
Or maybe they won't come if he's got company at his side at all times.
Which is why he helps his stepdad with the dishes, and reads bedtime stories with the kids, and after midnight walks his mom up to her room. Finally, it's just Drew and him on their mom's sofa in the den, finishing off the mulled wine and Beth's Christmas cookies, kicking back with some old black and white Christmas movie on the TV.
Dave could have sworn the movie showing is It's A Wonderful Life, except there seem to be unwashed ragamuffins prancing around onscreen and a cranky bearded dude in old-fashioned striped pajamas, and a white-faced guy in a sheet; what do you know, it's actually A Christmas Carol, and, oh, fuck.
He glances at his brother, who's suddenly asleep on the sofa in his Christmassy sweater, glasses askew on his unseeing face.
"Dammit, Drew, wake up!"
"He can't hear you," says a mellow, cheerful voice, and when Dave turns back to the TV he sees Jim Cantiello on the flat-screen in high-definition technicolor.
"Oh, dude, really?" Dave doesn't know whether to be amused or horrified. "Well, at least you're not Larry King."
"I remember when you told Larry you got your eye tattoo for Archie," Jim says. He's wearing a red Christmas sweater with snowflakes and a Santa hat, a combo Dave has seen him wear before. "Great line, that. Are there any words to say that could ever mean enough? Gotta say you always had some slick comebacks."
"It wasn't a line," Dave says, knowing he sounds defensive. "And how about you? Do you remember things the real Cantiello knows about?"
Jim's doppelganger cocks his head to one side. "I remember everything about you, David. I remember what you told Seacrest when you got that golden ticket. I remember the story TMZ ran when it got out you told Archie you loved him. I remember when that reporter asked Arch if he'd ever been kissed, and what you said to that deejay about Archie's sexuality. I remember what your 14 tattoo really means, where you got both of us melting together until we become something new. I remember the first time the Anthemic played in Asia, the first time you guys played in Wembley Stadium, your first Rolling Stone cover, your first Playgirl, your first DUI."
He pauses, stares at the expression on Dave's face. "Oh, those things haven't happened yet? My bad. Fact is, I remember your future, and I'm here to show it to you."
"I wish you wouldn't," Dave whispers. He's shaking, he feels light-headed, he's having trouble breathing. "One thing I've discovered, since you guys started visiting, is that ignorance is actually really under-rated."
"Don't be afraid," Ghost Jim says, almost gently. Then, "But you're going to have to see this, boyo, ready or not. The fall of who we are is getting closer, and I'm just holding on until it's over. So that maybe, once we're done, you have a chance to save yourself."
He makes a summoning gesture, and the TV lights up with rapid headlines and media clips, one after another:
BATTLE OF THE DAVIDS, GOLIACHULETA K.O.? (L.A. Times, 2008)
COOK TO ARCHULETA: "I LOVE YOU, THIS IS OUR MAGIC RAINBOW" (TMZ, 2008)
IDOL (B)ROMANCES - IS KRADAM COOKLETA v. 2.0? (PerezHilton.com, 2009)
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH DAVIDS: IDOLS TOO BUSY TO DATE, "MARRIED TO THEIR JOB" (Manila Lifestyle, 2009)
DAVID ARCHULETA: IS DAVID COOK "HIS KIND OF PERFECT?" (TMZ, 2010)
ARCHULETA SPLITS FROM WEG, JIVE (Hollywood Reporter, 2011)
DAVID COOK SAYS "THE LAST GOODBYE" TO DAVID ARCHULETA? (Entertainment Weekly, 2011)
FADE INTO DAVID COOK: SOPHOMORE ALBUM FINALLY GOES PLATINUM (Missouri Herald, 2011)
DAVID ARCHULETA TO SERVE TWO YEAR MISSION (Salt Lake City Tribune, 2012)
THIS LOUD WORLD: RCA RECORDING ARTIST DAVID COOK ANNOUNCES EUROPEAN TOUR (Blender, 2012)
TEENAGE FANS WILL WAIT FOR ARCHIE - SIGN PETITION NOW (365x2forArchie.org, 2012)
NASHVILLE MEGASTAR CARRIE UNDERWOOD ANNOUNCES SPLIT, FELLOW IDOL DAVID COOK IMPLICATED? (National Enquirer, 2013)
JESSICA SIMPSON TELLS ALL ABOUT ADAM LEVINE, DAVID COOK (Nashville Post, 2013)
RECORDING STAR DAVID COOK PLEADS NO CONTEST TO DUI CHARGES (Hollyscoop!, 2013)
SINGER RYAN STAR TO DIVORCE, SAYS RCA ARTIST DAVID COOK NOT INVOLVED (Entertainment Weekly, 2013)
THIS LOUD WORLD LIVE EP "TOUR DE FORCE" (Melody Maker, 2013)
GRAMMY WINNER DAVID COOK LEAVES L.A. REHAB ON THANKSGIVING (TMZ, 2013)
ARCHULETA FOUNDS ORPHANAGE IN CHENNAI, TO MARRY IN SLC (Salt Lake City Tribune, 2014).
The big black letters fill his world; the screen pans back to second-last headline about rehab, and then pans out to a newspaper being read by David Archuleta.
In this not-so-distant future Archie is looking older, leaner, his pale skin tanned gold after two years under a far-flung sun. His hair's cropped close to his skull like an ascetic's. He's wearing a formal black tux, white shirt, shiny shoes; he stands at a desk, framed by a window with a view of distant, snow-covered mountains.
He grips the newspaper, and the light shines off the band of gold on his ring finger.
The angle on Arch's face is lousy, but it looks like he's pretty affected by the COOK LEAVES L.A. REHAB headline. Dave can't blame him, the news that he's evidently succumbed to the cliche of sex, drugs and rock and roll in 2014 is hugely affecting, more than the apparent hook-up with Jessica Simpson, even.
Someone knocks at the door, and Archie says, "I'm in here!" and puts the newspaper face-up on the desk.
The door opens on a young, red-headed woman, hardly more than a girl, wearing a simple white wedding dress. "There you are," she says, and walks over to take his hand, her wedding ring visible for an instant before she laces her fingers through his.
Arch smiles at her. "Everybody settled in?"
"Yeah, your parents are even being civil to each other, and my stepdad is actually sober, on account of all us Mormons at this reception."
"Sober is awesome," says Archie, glancing at the newspaper.
She follows his gaze, and seems to understand at once. "Are you okay, hon?"
"Yeah," Arch says. "I was wondering if I should've invited him to our wedding."
"I get that you didn't want to," she says gently. "It makes two of us. You know I couldn't bring myself to invite Eli either."
"Well, that and I'd punch his lights out if he ever came near you again," Arch says, and they both giggle.
"Maybe I'd punch Cook too! Though I guess it's not fair to hit a drunk."
"No, it isn't," Archie says; he opens his arms and she steps into them.
"They say you never get over your first love," she says. "I get it, David, it's really okay."
"I never want to lie to you," he murmurs into her bright hair.
"And I want you to be yourself with me," she says. "Even if it means you still love Cook, or still think about other guys. I'm your wife now, your forever family, it means I'll support you always no matter what."
Arch shakes his head. "I'm not thinking about other guys, Isabel. I loved one man, and he didn't love me back, and that's it. I'm married to you now, before God and our church, and I'm going to do my best to think about only you and make you happy, deal?"
"Okay, fine, deal." She wrinkles her nose at him. Her eyes are green as grass; as someone whose job involves a lot of looking at photos of himself, Dave can see that they're the same color as his own. He wonders if Arch realized that when he decided to marry her. Wonders what this future Arch has admitted and not admitted to himself, let alone to his new bride.
Archie says, "Also, I've reached a decision, which I want to share with the wedding party. My dad's not gonna like it, but I'm not sure he gets a say."
"I like this plan already," she says, grinning. "Tell me."
"Not sure if you will," Arch says seriously. "I'm not gonna go back to secular music for a while. I know the plan was for me to come back to it when I got home to the States, but the industry has gotten so ungodly this last couple of years. I mean, Cook was the best, the strongest of all of us, you know? And it seems even he couldn't hold out against the drugs, the sex scandals. I can't risk that for us."
"But you love music," Isabel says, hesitantly. "You could reach out to so many people that way, change their lives for the better."
"I can still reach out to people," Arch says. "This month's numbers at the orphanage are at a record high! And there’s so much more work to do."
"Whatever you decide," Isabel tells him. "I'm signed on for life, remember?"
He clasps her around the waist. "What do you think of Guatemala?" he asks.
"I think it'll drive your dad crazy, and mine."
"Then that's where we'll go," Archie says decisively. "Far away from this mess. For as long as it takes."
This time Dave says No; shout it into the screen with all his strength, but the big black headlines come anyway, crowding out the picture of Arch.
DAVID COOK BUSTED AT AIRPORT FOR POSSESSION, and SINGER SERVES TIME FOR ASSAULT, and ARCHULETA EXTENDS HIATUS INDEFINITELY, 2015, 2016; Dave shouts, “No, goddamnit, not this future, I'm not letting this happen!" and the screen goes blank.
Dave gets up purposefully; he's gathering his strength to yank the flat-screen off the wall when it flickers to life again.
"Sorry, dude," says not-Jim; "I was always on your side, in your corner. And Archie's, too. Just so you know, it's not all on you. A little boy, the world in tow, he didn't stand a chance they said. No shame in not being strong enough, either of you."
Dave says, breathing unsteadily, "If you, or Ghost-you, were ever in my corner, then you'll tell me how to fucking fix things so this doesn't happen!"
"How to fix this?" Ghost Jim smiles gently. "I think you know. You just get one shot, too. If the sky keeps falling, and the night keeps calling, you never let the sun go down and fall to pieces."
He cocks a finger out of the screen at Dave, and although Dave swears and struggles and tries to hold on, the quiet darkness finally overtakes him and drags him down.
*
Dave opens his eyes to sunlight and an unfamiliar ceiling.
I'm cutting old ties from the world outside ‘cause it's over my head…
For a jagged instant, he thinks he might be in rehab, trapped in the nightmare future signaled by unforgiving black headlines, but when he flings himself upright he realizes he's back in his old room, in his present. The bells tolling outside his window remind him it's Christmas Day.
The shower isn't hot enough to wash away the chilling cold of the years ahead filled with bad sex and drugs and loneliness. He isn't sure anything would be nearly hot enough.
After he bundles himself into jeans and an old Royals sweatshirt, though, he feels something unfolding deep inside him.
Give me one more quiet night before this loud morning gets it right and does me in.
A feeling, a sense of purpose, unmistakable as day.
How to fix this? I think you know.
The kids are all already up when he comes downstairs, squealing and full of sugar, surrounded by the debris of ribbon and wrapping paper and brand new presents. Kendra and his step-sibs are trying to referee. Beth and Grenvell are making coffee, Drew is lying on the couch in exactly the same position as Dave had left him last night.
"Merry Christmas, guys," he says, and walks over to kiss his mom on the cheek.
Kendra says, "What's with the bag, David? I thought you weren't coming with me to Stan's."
"I'm not," Dave says, and Beth stares at him.
"You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Would you believe me if I told you I have? I'm really sorry, Mom," he tells her.
"I see you have to go," she says. "Whoever he or she is, I hope they deserve it. You know, your dad and I may not have worked things out between us, but it doesn't mean relationships don't work."
"I do know that," he says. "At least, I know it now."
"Please drive safely, David."
"I promise," Dave says, and kisses her goodbye.
The commute to the Kansas City airport is as bad as he expects; the flights are overbooked but somehow Roger has managed to squeeze him onto the last seat in first class to Salt Lake City.
He eats the pre-packed airline meal, drinks nothing stronger than coffee, and hopes he's not too late.
The Archuleta house is at the end of a quiet street. Dave was here on Arch's eighteenth birthday, before the divorce, and he'd visited a couple of times after. He knows Lupe and the kids will be preparing for Christmas dinner per the more austere LDS custom. The sun sets early in winter in Utah and the Christmas lights around the fence and the firs in the yard twinkle in the gathering dusk, against the snow.
Dave climbs out of the cab, wondering if Jeff is going to be at dinner. He figures not; this is one more home where the theory of a happy, amicable blended family holiday hasn't worked in practice.
Still, they are each so much more than just the sum of their parents' failures and childhood disappointments. It's time to put the past aside. Dave shoulders his bag and his newfound courage.
ARCHULETA TO MARRY, TAKES HIATUS FROM MUSIC. No.
He holds his breath as the doorbell rings a jolly Christmas tune, Lupe must have gotten it made custom. The sound of footsteps, and then the door opens on David Archuleta, in the flesh, not in flashback or flash-forward but solid and breathing and right there.
"Cook!" Archie says, shocked. "Did you call...? What're you doing here?"
You only get one shot.
Dave says, hoping his voice is steady, "You got it, the song was about you. But I was wrong, because I'm not ready to say goodbye to you."
Arch stands very still for a moment. Then, tentatively, "What's happened?"
"You're gonna think I've gone crazy," Dave says. "But I'm done with not telling you the truth, starting now. I've had the weirdest Christmas experience, and it made me realize I had to see you. Can I come in, or maybe we can take a walk?"
"Sure," says Arch, grabbing a jacket from behind the door. "Mama, I'm headed out for a bit," he calls into the house.
"Be back before dinner!" Lupe calls; with her mother's radar-like hearing, or ESP, she adds, "Also, bring Cook with you!" and, blushing, Arch ushers Dave back outside in the direction of the snowy, tree-lined street.
"So, what was that weird Christmas experience?" Arch wants to know, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Dave falls into step beside him, aching to touch his hand, not knowing the kind of reception he'd get. I loved this one man, and he didn't love me back. "It was a real Christmas Carol thing. Three ghosts, from my past, present and future, the genuine shebang."
When Arch doesn't say something right away, Dave steals a glance at him. Fortunately, Archie doesn't look like he thinks Dave needs to be institutionalized; Arch does genuinely believe in angels and demons, and so ghosts probably aren't much of a stretch. What the heck, Dave now believes in everything.
"Well, it does sound pretty crazy," Archie says carefully. "What did the ghosts show you?"
"The future. One future. That I can maybe change if I'm not too chickenshit to do that." Dave takes a deep breath. Time to fix things.
His heart's pounding so loudly he can hardly hear himself speak. "You were right, all those years ago. I was scared. I was a lousy boyfriend, and I was afraid to love anyone or to take responsibility for anything. I messed up my life and yours, and I'm going to mess it up even more if I keep running away from you."
He stops in the snow-covered street to look at Arch. The Utah sun is setting, casting Arch's face in light and shadow, Dave has never seen anything more beautiful. "Seems like there'll never be a more right time for us. I love you, I want to be with you, and I'm not scared anymore."
Archie looks at him, searchingly, as if he can't quite believe Dave's saying these things after all this time. Maybe he doesn't believe it, maybe Dave is too late to fix anything.
Then Arch smiles slowly, and touches a cold finger to Dave's chin. "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The feeling," says Arch, musingly. "I knew you could hear it inside you, if you learned to listen hard enough. I've felt that way about three things in my life: God, and music, and you."
When Dave understands what it is Arch is telling him, his knees go weak with gratitude. "Well, it seems I've finally learned to listen to the feeling, too," he says, and holds out a hand.
Archie doesn't take it, though, and then Dave understands the rest of what Arch is saying. "And I guess I need to learn to feel that way about God, because you're going to tell me you're still going on your mission, aren't you."
"Yes," Arch whispers. "I love you too, but this doesn't change things about the mission."
Arch's eyelashes shine golden in the sunset; Dave's never wanted anything more in his whole life. He reaches out and cups the side of Arch's face. "I don't want to lose you," he says.
"You don't have to," Arch says, and leans in and kisses him.
Arch's lips are cold but soft, softer than Dave remembers; he wraps his arms around Dave in the street and draws him in, and Dave never wants the moment to end.
And then it starts to snow, dizzying flakes coming down out of the sky, like angels singing joyful carols on this Christmas Day.
Arch laughs and turns his face to the sky. "It's turned out to be some Christmas!"
"What, you mean, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away?" Dave murmurs, trying to catch his breath. "Because I'll wait for you, Archuleta, as long as it takes. I'll write you songs every month you're away, it'll feel like I'm right there with you."
"We're only supposed to listen to worship songs on mission," says Arch, grinning.
"Then I suppose I better start writing some. David Cook, gospel singer-songwriter, who'd have thought it?"
"I would," Arch says. "I told you God loves you, Cook, even though you don't know much about Him right now."
"Well, I will admit to being kind of jealous," Dave confesses. "He gets to have you all to Himself for two years. After which He'll have to get used to sharing your ass with pop music, and with me."
Arch snickers and kisses him again. "Have to say, I actually kind of like the jealous look on you."
Dave snorts. "Don't be too sure. Told you, I'm a pretty lousy boyfriend. But I'm going to do better, I promise."
"Enough to put your future on hold for me for two years?" asks Arch, slowly.
The flakes of snow hang in Archie's dark hair, turn his eyebrows to silver. Dave has a glimpse of what Arch will look like when he's older and graying, full of time and years, but always with Dave at his side.
"There's no future for me without you in it," says Dave. "And I actually mean that literally, because I've seen it, and I don't want to be there."
Arch holds out his hand, and Dave takes it blindly.
"Now you don't have to," Arch says, softly. "You wrote some other song, didn’t you? Nothing's going to stop us now, cause we were born to live forever."
If the world stops turning, I'll be right here with you. Dave says, "We better head home, your mom will be wondering whether I'd taken advantage of you before you can even make it out to mission."
Archie chokes back laughter. "You don't have to be a virgin to qualify for mission! Uh, not that that's an invitation or anything. Or, um, maybe it is," and Dave picks him up and kisses him until neither of them feels the cold.
"I'm sorry, I have this feeling that it would be wrong to deflower my boyfriend in the snow outside his house on Christmas Day, right before he goes off to serve the church."
"Even if that sounds like a really good idea?" whispers Arch against his mouth.
Dave sighs. "Especially then. Not least because sex in the snow is actually really uncomfortable."
"How handy for me to be dating a man with a past," Archie says, grinning. He's really warm, and fits into Dave's arms like he belongs there; Dave doesn't need the three ghosts or angels who'd traveled into his life this Christmas to tell him that's true.
He's a man with a future, now, thanks to those ghosts and their big guy, and a chance to make things right. He'll have to tell Arch the whole story one day. Maybe when Arch is back from mission. Or tomorrow, if Arch asks.
For now, it's enough to hold Archie's hand and walk by his side in the snow.
In the distance, church bells start to ring, reminding Arch and Cook to start heading in to dinner, and calling the faithful to celebrate: peace on Earth, goodwill to men, for this day the King, the King is born.
"Merry Christmas, Cook," Archie says softly.
"God bless us, every one," says Dave, surprising himself because he believes it, finally, and holds on tight.