Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare - Clare London.pdf - Clare London - SilverWitch

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare London

‘Twas the season to be merry, they saidornot, in my case.

Itwasn’tdue to the weather, because to be honest, I liked the fresh,

sharp cleanliness of the cold at Christmas. I liked the way the wind

snapped around my heels, buffeting the collar of my thick coat. I liked the

way the moisture in the air froze swiftly into icy beads on my skin and

clothing. It all kept me awake without the aid of caffeine, and reminded

me there was a world out there that was really alive—that is, neither

cosy nor completelyunderanyone’scontrol

So it must have been the holiday season arriving, accompanied by the

usual social hysteria and overindulgence, like two hyperactive cousins on

a holiday visit. That must have been the reason I was withdrawing

again—that the outside world seemed particularly challenging. My mind

was full of thoughts that depressed me; sadness, frustration, the futility

of struggling through this Christmas cracker joke called life, while

everyone else was grinning and hugging.

To me, Christmas loomed like a dark, grey cloud, like the memory of

something hidden way back in my mind, like the threat of a nightmare

coming true. The season had never been good for me, had it? I grew up

in a family that was way more dysfunctional than devoted, and we rarely

celebrateditwithanythingexceptMom’sdrinkscupboardandmy

brother’srecurringcriminalrecord. Dad left us one Christmas Eve—Gran

died on another holiday weekend. I was pretty happy to leave home and

find my own way as soon as I could.

My friends disagreed with me about Christmas. Hey, I forgave them

for that, right? My friend Bailey laughed at the sight of the sparkling shop

windows and said that Christmas was a time of magic and goodwill. My

rather less sentimental friend Saul rolled his eyes and said that it was all

very well, but he didn’t understand why goodwill should be restricted to

a couple of months in the year. My quiet but far more thoughtful friend

Cass smiled at them both—and especially at Bailey—and said that

Christmas was what we made of it.

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare London

Trite, but true, I guess. Maybe what my therapist said was right—my

history twisted the worst from the season like squeezing a lemon, and

dragged me down with its sourness. I didn’toftendiscussthe topic with

anyone except Aaron. It was a time for being solitary, in my experience.

I’d never kept a lover over the holidays, and a couple of them blamed me

for actively pushing them away. But then I’d never been a particularly

safe romantic bet at the best of times.

And what did Aaron say, when I inflicted yet more of my whining on

him? Well, he was my rock, and his opinion was the most important to

me for several reasons. Mainly because he was my best friend—because

he was wise in a reluctant, unpretentious way—because he took shit

from no-one.

Oh—and, also, he wanted to be my lover.

We first got together as a couple last winter. The season had played

itsusualtrickonme,andI’dbeeninabad car accident the week before

Christmas. Not my fault in any way, but it took me several weeks to get

mobilitybackinbothlegsInthemeantime,I’dlostmyjobandI had no

ideas on getting a new one with an ankle in plaster and pretty shaky

confidence. The guys tried to get me out and about to parties and

socials, but there must have been plenty of things more rewarding for

them. I was bad company. Very bad.

Christmas just felt like that final straw.

But Aaron got me to see the doctor. Took me there, joked me

through the appointments, saw me through the physical and the

emotional medication. He cajoled me when he wanted to; yelled at me

when he needed to. I was in need of help, obviously, and he made sure I

both asked for it—and got it.

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare London

He came around every day, whether I invited him or not. I hid from

life,butIcouldn’thidefromhimHe brought me out of my apartment

and back into real life, and incidentally into his, too. I’dknownhimfora

fewyearsbutwe’dneverreally acted on the romantic thing until then.

We started dating, and I was startled by how easy and pleasant it was. In

the new year, I got myself another job, albeit a rather quiet, unassuming

one with a fairly modest salary and an even more modest expectation of

me. But that was good, and I treasured it. Aaron also persuaded me to

move from my sad old apartment when one came up for rent in his own

block. Then we were only a floor away from each other, and we spent a

lotofourfreetimetogetherinoneortheother’splace

The dating was very good, and something to be treasured even more,

of course.

Yeah, I was a changed man, or so Bailey often said. He called me up

and invited me and Aaron around all the time; I think we were the

equivalent of his poor cousins. He and Cass had been sharing an

apartment since last Christmas, and they were sickeningly devoted. Hey,

that’s just a joke, you know? I enjoyed being around them, of course I

did. They deserved their happiness.

Saul agreed I looked much better, too, but there was a shadow in his

expression when he said it. Sometimes I caught him talking to Aaron in a

low tone, in a place and at a time when he knew I was unlikely to be

around. When I reappeared, he’dgreet me cheerfully enough, but he

didn’tstaymuchlongerThenAaron was particularly attentive to me for

some time after.

And now it was Christmas time, and it was starting all over again. That

thing where they looked at me out of the corners of their eyes; where

they were reluctant to leave me alone for any length of time.

I ignored it because I didn’treallyknowwhatelseto do. You see,

there were still times I wanted to slip back into my apartment, bolt the

door behind me, and huddle down into the farthermost corner. I saw

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare London

myself curled into the smallest shape possible, arms hugged around me

to keep anything from falling out, wishing for the sights and sounds from

outside to be silenced for good, like heavy snow falling on top of my

footprints, covering them until they’retoodeeptoremember

It was only the thought—and the feel—of Aaron that kept me out of

that corner and shivering in the real world.

“Ithink”Iturned slowlyaroundinthelogcabin’sbedroom,my

suitcasewideopenonthebedandapileofunderwearinmyhand“I

think this may be a bad idea after all”

Aaron stood in the doorway, looking at meHe’d been unpacking the

supplies in the kitchen, though that was rather a grand word for what

was just a tiny cooker and a wooden counter set up in the far corner of

the lounge-come-living area. He was probablywonderinghowhe’d

create those great meals of his with just one pan and the minimum of

condiments. It wasn’t like the place was anything more than basic.

“Doyouneedmorespace?Ididn’tbringmany clothes, so you can

have the extradrawersinthedresser”

“I’mnottalkingaboutthe damned storage, Aaron,”Imuttered.

“That’snotwhatI’mworriedabout”

I heard him take a slow breath. There was no excuse for my snapping

at him, of course. “Dan. I thought we talked this through when Bailey

first suggested this trip? You were happy to come up here. There are no

crowds out here by the lake, and there’s no obligation to join in any of

the celebrations tonight at the clubhouse. It’s up to us what we do for the

holiday—”

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come by Clare - Clare London.pdf

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