The Families in Rossford

TWO 

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

“My God, you’re enormous!” Fenn exclaimed at the kitchen table as Lance entered after Dylan through the side door.

“Uh… Thank you, Mr. Houghton.”

“Thanks for letting Lance stay,” Dylan said.

“Don’t forget to share him with his parents,” Todd told him, while Fenn only yawned and looked at Lance.

“He was always tall,” he noted. “But when did you get, so tall!”

“He was always knees and feet falling over each other,” Todd said.

“You were like that,” Fenn reminded Todd. “When you were a boy. And then one day you came back from college all grown up. And now Lance is too.”

“I’m not quite all grown up,” Lance chuckled and Dylan said, “You’re making him nervous.”

“No, he’s not,” Lance said, turning red, but Fenn said, “Don’t worry, we’re done.”

“Good night, Dad,” Dylan kissed Fenn’s cheek, and then he kissed Todd.

“Goodnight Mr. Houghton. Mr. Meradan,” Lance said. “It’s been—,” but Dylan was dragging the tall young man up the stairs.

“Wow,” Todd said, “Now that Lance actually looks like a man, is it possible to think of them as anything but—”

Fenn held up a hand.

“No, no, no,” he said. “I made the resolution that as long as the door was closed and I couldn’t hear anything, it’s just a slumber party.”

“That is enlightened. If it was Maia and some boy—”

“But it’s the boy that’s been with Dylan since they were children, and whatever they do they’ve been doing since they were children,” Fenn said. “My mother had to wrap her head around me not liking girls, and Dylan has given me plenty to wrap my own head around. But Lance is a good boy—”

“Are they friends? Are they friends with benefits? Are they halfway incestuous? Don’t you seriously wonder what—?”

“Todd,” Fenn said wearily, “whatever happens up there would happen somewhere else a lot less safe if Lance didn’t stay with me. And it’s something I can deal with. Mr. Bishop couldn’t, and I know that. And besides, whatever other things Lance is, one thing I do believe: Lance is the only boy who really ever loved Dylan. He’s really the only boy I ever trusted to take care of my son. So… I’m sort of soft for him.”

“You think… they’re like us?”

“No, cause I’m ten years older than you and remember changing your diapers.”

Todd frowned and said, “I mean… do you think one day they’ll be together. For real?”

“I think they are together for real,” Fenn said, looking up the stairs. “Only they don’t know it.”

When Fenn woke up the next morning it was to the sound of shovels scraping on the sidewalk. Todd was already up in the living room looking out of the window, and when Fenn joined him he said, “Look at your son.”

In their winter coats, hoods pulled up, Lance and Dylan were shoveling the walk, and Fenn said, “I hope they have the sense to use the snowblower for the drive.”

“They’re good boys,” Todd said, approvingly.

“Who’s good boys?”

Maia came bouncing down the stairs in men’s pajamas her long braid tied back.

“Your brother and Lance,” Todd told her. “How come you never shovel the sidewalk for me?”

“Because I’m usually busy doing it for Mom and Natalie,” Maia said. “And if you and Fenn let me sleep with my friends, I’d shovel the driveway too.”

Todd rolled his eyes and Maia went into the kitchen saying, “As it is, I don’t currently have anyone to sleep with.”

Fenn turned away from the boys in the driveway.

“When are you and Laurel going to Chicago?”

“Day after Christmas,” Maia said from the kitchen. “Which means the day after tomorrow.”

“Do you want us to take you guys to the train station?” Todd asked following them in.

“That,” Maia said, pouring juice into her glass, “would be lovely. Mom was gon do it, but Natalie’s folks are headed back the day after too, and we’d all be crowded in the car together.”

“Natalie’s folks are Jewish,” Fenn said, going to the refrigerator and pulling out eggs.

“Everything is everything,” Maia said. “You know that.”

“And the first day of Chanukah is Christmas this year,” Todd reminded Fenn.

“Speaking of: when are we getting the tree?”

“I was thinking this afternoon, unless you want to do it earlier? Todd said to Fenn.

“I was going to spend the morning at the playhouse anyway,” Fenn said. “We can get the tree this afternoon, and set everything up before we leave tonight?”

“How does tonight go, anyway?” Maia had the glass half raised to her lips.

“Claire’s family is having a Christmas Eve dinner and then they’re all coming here for the before Midnight Mass Christmas party—”

“Chanakuh dinner at Or Chadash is at six,” Todd reminded him.

“And we’ll be back by eight, a half hour before the party,” Fenn said. “Everything is a smooth running, well greased holiday machine.”

The back door opened and Dylan and Lance entered, red cheeked, stomping snow off their boots.

“My good boys,” Todd announced. “They need cocoa.”

“Good God,” Maia muttered while Dylan stuck his tongue out at her, “they scrape up some snow and you act like they just found the cure for cancer.”

But she still turned around and got out the cocoa.      

Brian Babcock did not mind singing if he was accompanying an organ. He did not have a particularly good voice. It was a decent one for cantoring. He liked to sing even better when it was with Chad North, and when it was in an empty, or virtually empty church, like it was right now.

 

Lift your soul! Be renewed by the Spirit!

Lift your hearts to the Holy One!

 

Father, God, you are almighty!

Father, God,

Giver of Life! Hear us now as we

call your name!

Hear us now as we praise

your name!

 

They sang again:

 

Lift your hearts to the Father Almighty!

Lift your voice in praise of the Son!…

 

“I love John Rutter,” Chad said, after his fingers came to rest on the keys.

“I love churches,” Brian discovered. He sat down on the bench beside Chad, looking around.

“It’s not Saint Agatha’s, but this is nice.”

“Well, it’s the Catholic in you,” Chad said,

“I haven’t had a Catholic in me for years. It’s been you in me, Protestant.”

“You’re dirty,” Chad said, unnecessarily.

“I think,” Brian continued, “in another life I would be an Episcopalian. A nice Anglican.”

Chad shrugged.

“It’s pretty much the same thing to me.”

“That’s cause you don’t really have a religion.”

“This,” Chad said, touching the key, and forcing a blast of music out of the organ, “is my religion.

“I feel religious on Sunday. I feel religious here. I feel religious on Christmas. If I never ever set foot in a church again, I would feel like I was missing something.”

Brian frowned and jutted out his lip.

“What?”

“I just realized I’m fifty years old, and I’ve been a church organist for almost thirty years, and I never talk about religion.”

“Well, maybe that’s because living it is more important than talking about it,” Chad suggested.

Brian looked at him, “I think that’s bull, but thanks for saying it.”

Chad shrugged and said, “Move over, will ya?”

He began to play the Wexford Carol while Brian sat watching him. In the middle of it, Chad stopped.

“Yes?”

“Am I an old man?”

“Yes,” Chad said, truthfully. “We’ve been together—sort of—for fifteen years, and when we met you were the same age I am now.”

Brian thought of this. “Really?”

“You have,” Chad said, touching them, “A line right here, and right here, and these lines on both sides of your mouth.

“And,” he went on, touching the corners of Brian’s eyes, “these little lines right here. And here, right here and here, these grey temples. That silver in your hair. You are…” Chad said, kissing him, “so terribly old.” He kissed him again, “very old. And more beautiful every year.”

He kissed Chad for a long time, fiercely, and then Chad said, “If you’re like this now, I won’t be able to control myself when you’re totally grey.”

“I haven’t seen my son in two days!” Tom announced, jogging into Fenn’s office.

“Well, don’t look at me.”

At Tom’s look he said, “Well, look at me, then. But I don’t know where he is. I sent him home to you after breakfast.”

Tom Mesda stopped to think, putting a finger to his curly hair.

“I wasn’t there,” he admitted.

“Oh?”

“I left to go jogging and then went on a few errands and came here. I haven’t been back.”

“You’re running a lot these days,” Fenn noted, passing a finger through something on his desk.

“I always run a lot. You know that.”

“I never understood how that could be fun.”

“Health is its own reward, Fennbot.”

“Yes,” Fenn noted, ignoring the nickname. “Yes, it is.”

“And it gives Lee something nice to come home to.”

“Um, Dylan must be with Lee then,” Fenn said, again, ignoring the cheesy smile Tom gave him. “We have to meet with the Northern Indiana Arts Council at noon, so if you go home and put some decent clothes on, I’m sure you’ll see him.”

While Tom ran a hand over his mop of hair, Fenn marveled, “You’re so nice looking when you clean up. But when you stop cleaning up it’s just jeans with holes, hair and unshavenness.”

“And you would like me to attend to all of this before twelve o’clock.”

“I would appreciate it.”

“What if I end up looking too hot for you to handle?”

“Actually Tom, it’s when I regret ending things with you that I know you’ve cleaned up.”

“I’ll make sure to relay that to Lee.”

“Please do.”

But now Fenn wondered where Dylan had gone. As long as Lance was in town, he was safe, and as long as Lance was only in town for a few weeks, they were safe from each other. Still he picked up the phone and called Tom’s house.

“Hello?”

“Danny, is Dylan there?”

“Hey, Fenn. No, Dylan just left with that Lance. You know he looks just like a man, now?”

“Yes, Danasia,” Fenn said, sounding much put upon, “I had noticed that.

“So where did they go?”

“I think they went to Lance’s parent’s house. Dylan said Lance was staying with you all?”

“Yes. Well, last night he did.”

“You’re a good one, Fenn.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Larry! Larry! Put that pan down!” Danasia shouted off the phone. “I said put it down.”

Then she said, “I mean, when they were children it was one thing, but Lance is a grown ass man laying up with your son and—”

Fenn clicked off the phone and asked himself, “Why do I call?”

As the day darkened into evening, Fenn Houghton looked over the living room. In its traditional place of honor, by the front corner window, stood the menorah with its first candle awaiting the sundown lighting, and in an older place of honor, before the picture window that looked over the driveway, Maia, Lance and Dylan helped Todd dress the Christmas tree. Fenn and Laurel went back to putting out the last of the knickknacks, the reindeer, the little Santas, the garish ethnic angels, the stockings over the chimney, around the living and dining room areas. He would lay out the table. Christmas tree decorating had never been his thing. Until the year Todd had moved into the house—irony—there had been no tree.

Everyone stopped a moment, Lance elbowing Dylan in the shoulder as the English singers on the stereo caroled:

 

Hark the herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn King!

Peace on earth and mercy mild

God and sinners reconciled"

Joyful, all ye nations rise

Join the triumph of the skies

With the angelic host proclaim:

"Christ is born in Bethlehem!"

Hark! The herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn King!"

 

As the next verse began Fenn rose up, feeling an ache in his back, and went to the kitchen for coffee, cocoa and cookies.

“You need help?” he heard Laurel say.

“Yes. You can get cups and creamer. Thank you, Niece.”

They came out with them, and Fenn and Laurel lay everything on the little table before the fireplace.

“Do you think the tree is too close to the fire?” Todd asked.

“No closer than usual,” Fenn said.

“I think,” Lance, who suddenly looked like the birdheaded boy of his childhood, said, “that this is the most perfect Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

“I think,” Fenn said, lighting the window, “that in about fifteen minutes it will be time to light the first candle for Chanakuh.”

“That’s right,” Todd said sitting down on the settee beside him. He reached around Fenn to pour cocoa and said, “What would you like, my dear?”

“Coffee. It’s going to be a very long night.”

 

Of the Father's love begotten
Ere the worlds began to be,
He is Alpha and Omega,
He the Source, the Ending He,
Of the things that are, that have been,
And that future years shall see
Evermore and evermore.

 

“Bum bum bum,” Lance was singing to himself, tapping a rhythm out on his knees.

“What?” Dylan said to him, “are you doing?”

Lance looked semi-embarrassed and Fenn said, “Leave him alone.  He’s hearing the music… In his own Lance Bishop way.”

Lance suddenly smiled and said, “That’s right, Dyl. So there.”

Oh, that birth forever blessed
When the Virgin, full of grace,
By the Holy Ghost conceiving,
Bare the Savior of our race,
And the Babe, the world's Redeemer,
First revealed His sacred face
Evermore and evermore.

“I think Maia is right,” Todd said, slipping an arm around Fenn while the ancient carol continued.

“I think I am too,” Maia told her father. “Only I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everything… being everything.

“When I was younger, when I knew I didn’t belong to the Church, I was very hard and fast about what I believed in and what I didn’t,” Todd explained. “Nowadays, when I only come into church on Christmas with you guys, when I can have my own Christmas in my house, I look at the tree, and the angels, the crèche and I hear the old carols, the songs that sound even older than the ones we hear at temple.”

Fenn listened to Todd who was looking contemplative. He was used to Todd’s revelations by now, but he still loved him for them.

“I understand what belief it. Belief doesn’t belong to one place or one system. Neither does God. In some way I feel Christmas far more powerfully now than when I was a Christian.

“What do you think?” Todd asked him, suddenly.

“Me?” Fenn sat up.

He blinked.

“I think… that wherever there is wonder, there is God, and wherever we are struck by him…. Well, there is truth.”

And then to knock of the effects of such profundity, Fenn said, “And I think you should get up and light the first candle.”