The Stocking Was Hung

I turn my head away from Sam and whisper-yell toward the door so I don’t wake up anyone else in the house. “Aunt Bobbie, stop it with the Ecstasy and go to bed!”


“Okay. Got it. Ten-four. Over and out,” she says softly through the wood. “But if you do see a squirrel wearing a sweater, tell him he owes me fifty bucks.”

I turn my head back toward Sam and rest it on his chest as he rolls to his back, staring out of the window across from us at the gently falling snow outside. The ring on my finger sparkles when it catches the light from the Christmas tree and I close my eyes with one last look at it, hoping Santa brings me some damn courage tomorrow to maybe tell Sam I don’t want him to go.





Chapter 14




Sam




Socks.

Blue socks, red socks, yellow socks, socks with cats on them, socks with footballs on them, and even socks that light up every time you take a step.

Socks, socks, and more socks.

I never expected to even get one present from Noel’s family, let alone twenty. Each brightly colored and wrapped box and package filled with every pair of socks they sell at every store within a twenty mile radius.

Jesus, are those penises?

“Those are penis socks! They’re from me,” Aunt Bobbie says as she blows me a kiss.

“Have I apologized yet for telling them you had a thing for socks?” Noel whispers, leaning so close I can smell her cinnamon and vanilla scent, which I just found out is from some specialty lotion store after she opened three bottles of the stuff in her stocking.

“I love the socks. It’s fine,” I reassure her, rubbing my hand against her back as her brother tosses another present in my direction and it lands on my lap.

She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me, which is why I told her I loved her last night. After she fell asleep in my arms and couldn’t hear me whisper it in the darkness of her bedroom.

She’d never believe I was telling the truth.

Honestly, I don’t care if her family gives me a hundred pairs of socks, which going by the growing pile next to me on the floor of their living room, just might happen.

I quietly open the small box in my lap whose tag says it’s from Nicholas, while he also opens the ones from me that Noel handed to him from the pile between us.

The laughter comes fast and loud when I see there’s an athletic cup nestled inside the box and I hold it up for the room to see when Nicholas holds up his A Christmas Story stocking cap and matching socks.

“I figured you could use that the next time I go crazy with a Red Ryder,” Nicholas laughs, pulling the hat down over his head as I nod and tell him thank you for the cup.

This morning has been nothing short of amazing and my words have been few and far between as I sit here with this family that isn’t mine, watching them enjoy the holiday together. Everyone’s wearing matching pajamas—with the exception of me, I was granted a reprieve due to the cock and balls situation last night and allowed to put on my plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt—the coffee table was pushed out of the room to allow for presents and bodies as we all sit around the tree drinking coffee, munching on cookies and opening presents to the soft sounds of Christmas music floating around us.

This family is perfect. This woman next to me is perfect. Christmas is…dare I say it, perfect?

I’m going to stop being a * once and for all and tell Noel how I feel the first minute we get to ourselves. I don’t want to let this feeling go. This feeling of warmth and happiness and contentment and belonging for the first time in my life. I want to hold onto it like the present in my hand and never let it go.

The next hour is spent finishing opening up the massive amount of presents, followed by a quick clean-up of wrapping paper that was strewn from one end of the room to the other. While everyone busies themselves helping Bev in the kitchen get Christmas dinner ready, Noel grabs my hand and pulls me out into the hall and down by the front door.

Shit, is she kicking me out? Is she telling me it’s been nice but it’s time for me to go? I’m not ready, dammit. I’M NOT READY!

“I just wanted to give you your present without everyone watching,” she says quietly, pulling a flat, square-shaped present wrapped it snowman paper from behind her back and holding it out to me.

I release the breath I was holding and take the present, smiling down at her.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. NO ONE had to get me anything. This is all too much,” I reply, even though now that I’ve gotten a taste of getting Christmas presents, I want to open a thousand more.

“And you didn’t have to get everyone in my family something, but you did, so shut it!” she contends with a laugh.

“Your present isn’t quite ready yet,” I shrug in embarrassment, holding the present close to my chest. “It will be here later, I promise.”

She waves me off with her hand. “You didn’t have to get me anything. You being here, doing all of this and not running out the door screaming within the first five seconds of meeting my family was all the gift I needed.”