The Stocking Was Hung

“Oh, God, this is bad. This is really, really bad. I look like Tammy Fay Baker after a bender,” I complain.

“Okay, so the blue eyeshadow was a bit much,” Aunt Bobbie shrugs, grabbing her martini glass from the bathroom sink and taking a sip.

“Wow, you look like a cheap hooker,” Nicholas laughs from the doorway.

“Shut up!” I scream, jumping up from the chair I pulled into the bathroom and teetering to the side when the vodka I’ve consumed goes right to my head.

“I can’t drive like this,” I groan. “I can’t see him like this!”

“I don’t know, is Sam the type of guy who likes cheap hookers? He might appreciate your effort and it will make up for you being an asshole,” Nicholas informs me.

I hear the jangle of keys from the hallway and my mother pokes her head in the bathroom.

“Sweet mother of Swiss!” she exclaims when she sees my face. “Do you charge by the hour, sweetie?”

She laughs at her own joke and I shoot her a dirty look. At least I think it’s a dirty look. My face feels funny and tingly.

“Sorry, that’s the marijuana talking,” she apologizes, holding up the keys in her hand. “Who wants a ride to Sam’s house? We can stop and pick up Cheetos on the way!”

Nicholas snatches the keys from her hand. “You are definitely not driving, pot head.”

He moves into the bathroom and squeezes past Aunt Bobbie and I, grabbing a container of wipes from the back of the toilet and tossing them at me. My hands move in slow motion to catch it and it bounces around a few times before I finally get a hold of it.

“You can wash that shit off your face on the drive,” he informs me.

“These are Dad’s poop wipes,” I grumble. “He wipes his ass with these, I’m not using them on my face.”

Nicholas grabs my arm and drags me out of the bathroom and down the hall. “They don’t have shit on them, Leon. Quit your bitching and get in the car. Let’s go get your man.”





Chapter 16




Sam




My house is a shit hole.

Okay, fine. It’s not a shit hole, but it sucks. It’s too boring, too quiet, and too…blah. I’ve been sitting on my black leather couch, staring at the photo on my mantle since I got home, feeling like a dumbass and this empty house just makes it worse.

I should have bought a tree on the way home, maybe that would have helped. Something tells me the taxi I called to pick me up at Noel’s parent’s house wouldn’t have been too keen on stopping at a tree farm when he drove me home. He was pissed enough he had to work on Christmas and I don’t blame him.

Bringing my bottle of beer up to my mouth, I grimace when the warm liquid hits my tongue and set it back down on the coffee table in front of me. I’ve been nursing that same damn beer since I got here. I have no idea why I didn’t polish off the six pack as soon as I walked in the door. Maybe getting drunk would make me feel like less of an asshole.

Why the hell did I leave? Why didn’t I stay and at least tell Noel how I feel? I shouldn’t have scurried out of there and ran home like a kicked puppy with my tail between my legs.

Staring around the living room with the same tan-colored walls as when I bought the place five years ago, void of any pictures, and listening to the sound of complete silence used to be soothing. Now it just sucks dick. It’s too quiet in here. I want music, noise, laughter, arguing. I want Noel curled up on the couch next to me, smiling up at me.

I look up again at the framed photo on my mantle and shake my head. For a few days I was part of a family and now it’s gone because I’m a fool. A chicken-shit fool. I’m a God damn Marine. I’ve been to war, I’ve been shot at, I’ve lived in the worse conditions you could imagine for months at a time, and I couldn’t even tell a woman I loved her. Three simple words that just wouldn’t come out when they needed to.

There’s a small knock at my door and my heart starts to beat faster in my chest. I left my address in a note for Nicholas on the kitchen table before I left, stupidly thinking maybe Noel would see it and come here. As I walk across the living room to the front door, I realize it really was a stupid idea. She took the ring back from that schmuck. The ring that would have cost me three years’ worth of salary. Why the hell would she want me when she can have him, even if he is a dumb-shit?

The knock sounds again, louder this time and I pick up my pace, yelling at the closed door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Keep your pants on, Yoder. I’ll let you borrow my porn!”

I laugh at my own joke about my Amish neighbors and swing the door open without looking through the small window next to it, my mouth dropping open in shock.

“I’m not really in the market for any porn, but could I borrow a cup of sugar?”