Chapter 11 - The Longest Christmas Night

“I’m not sure what exactly you thought you were doing, man.” It was almost like he was listening to his own voice. They sounded so similar. They looked so similar. People had always told him how much he was like his brother. And for the longest time, that’s exactly how he wanted it. Nick was Aaron’s idol. But that didn’t mean that Aaron didn’t see things about him, know things about him.

Aaron was sitting on his new sailboat. Nick didn’t see the confiscated bottle of wine that Aaron had just thrown into the water. Nor did he know about the three other bottles that were in Aaron’s backpack. The younger pretended not to hear his brother. He rubbed his nose and swallowed.

“I saw it, dawg. I ain’t gonna pretend I didn’t.” Nick stepped a bit closer to his younger brother. “And you know just as well as I do that it just ain’t right. That she’s not gonna go for it.”

Aaron moved his hand from his nose to his eyes and squeezed. The world was tilting, moving in different directions. His face was hot from the wine, and his mind was starting to fuzz. He had only been drunk a few times before. He didn’t want to look at Nick. He saw a rizing out of the water and his eyes scanned the surface, trying to find whatever it was that had made the splash.

“You don’t deserve her.” Aaron told the splash.

Nick took a deep breath in through his nose. His chest rose. No, he supposed he didn’t. “I like her Aaron.” Nick stepped a little closer as Aaron snorted. “I’m not in love with her or anything. But I like her. And now that I see this, man. What seems to be going through that brain of yours…” Nick smiled at his younger brother. Aaron’s entire life, he had been spoiled. He had been given anything he had wanted. But not this time, Nick was going to make sure of that. If he did it now, it would save his little brother a world of trouble, of heartbreak, of embarrassment. Because he figured his brother could have the type of hold over a woman that he could have. He’d have to take this one.

“Look at me, man.” There was a long pause. Aaron didn’t want to look at Nick. Aaron felt as if he couldn’t breath.

“I…I…” He finally turned and looked at Nick. His brother’s understanding look made Aaron’s head spin further.

“Nah, you don’t. You’re young. Love will come later. And you can’t love her man. S’just bad timing.” Nick took a sip of the beer he was carrying. “Tomorrow, when you look at her? You won’t see that look in her eyes anymore. She just needs someone to make her feel special. And I can do that. And then, the holiday will be over and she’ll go home and it we can forget it ever happened.”

Aaron tried to squeeze the thought out of his mind. He knew that I wanted desperately to be loved. He knew that without even trying, I would fall in love with Nick. I was on the edge of something that even I couldn’t see. Yet Aaron could. “You make me sick. You’re hardly human. You can’t love anyone.” Aaron growled. As he glared at his older borther, his eyes were once again black. They formed a pit in Nick’s stomach, but he played it cool, as he usually did.

“I’m going to the house. Go to bed. It’ll all feel better in the morning, all look better in the morning light.” Nick told his little brother. Aaron was tall, but he seemed so much smaller than him there in the moonlight, slumped over, his head slunk down. The position was so un-Aaronlike that it made Nick nervous. He gulped. There wasn’t anything else he could say to him right now. He did an about-face and began to step off of the sail boat. As he climbed onto the dock, he looked back at his little brother. “Merry Christmas, little man.” He said very quietly. Aaron turned slowly and looked at him, so hurt that Nick couldn’t bare it and fled to his house.

*****

“I have to warn you.” I hiccoughed and put my hand over my mouth. “I drank a little bit of wine.” I wasn’t exactly drunk. But I was definitely tipsy. Nick’s teeth were so white and his smile so wide. He turned away from his bar and popped the cork out of a bottle of wine with a loud “POP”. I giggled.

“Whoo.” I handed him a glass and he poured the Chardonnay in it. Had he just known that Chardonnay was my favorite? Did he just remember that from nights previous? He was pretty scruffy tonight, unshaven on both chin and upper lip. His upper lip had actually left my lips sore, from just the one kiss we had shared beneath the mistletoe.

Most women would think that I was crazy. Standing there on Christmas night in Nick’s apartment, having felt the passionate forcefulness in his kiss earlier, knowing full well what he was expecting, I suppose now that I should have simply known better than to have even shown up. But it was the draw of him, of everything that Nick was, everything I had wanted for so long.

The wine made his lips wet. He was sitting on a bar stool, looking over at me, his cheeks flushing more and more every moment. “Nice day.” He recollected.

“Yeah, pretty good.” I added. I was not going to discuss the incident with Nick. For all I knew, he had forgotten it already, had hardly noticed it. And that was OK. I wanted it out of my mind. I just wanted to spend the night with him, kiss a little perhaps, and then fall asleep in his arms, just the way I had a few nights before. Maybe being there for him, holding him, maybe that would make him fall in love with me, or at least care for me more than he cared for any of the other girls he spent nights with.

I was special, wasn’t I? I was with Nick on Christmas night. He had sought me out specifically, asked me to be with him. It would be perfect.

My glass was empty fairly quickly. He filled it up just as swiftly as I had drank it. “Let’s go into the living room.” He said, inviting me with his eyes, that kind boy-like gesture he had mastered. He held his hand out and I took it as it swallowed my own. His hands were rough, as though he had built things with them. My stomach flip-flopped. Nick intimidated me and I liked that, sick though it was, against all my feminist ways.

I parked my behind on the plush carpeting of his living room floor. Nick dropped another bottle of wine next to me and then the cork screw. As he sat, he grabbed the bottle, working hard to open it, his arms flexing as he twisted and pulled, the veins jutting out, the muscles moving every which way. He had changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of long khaki shorts. The shirt was thin, almost see-through. I could see his tattoos through the short sleeves and as we had been walking from the kitchen I could see the large tattoo sprawled across his back that read “KAOS”, a nickname he had had for years. The cork popped once again and Nick re-filled the glass.

“I think I should try my hand at this Tricky thing that you boys love so damn much.” You boys. I could have been referring to boydom in general, but that’s not who I was referring to. Aaron. I blinked him away, angry at the booze for making me think of him. Nick had no clue as he said, “Ahite”, and began to pull out the X-box controls for us to play the video game. I gulped down another sip of wine and grabbed the control. “Prepare to meet your match!” I told him and he smiled.

“Yeah...right.” He said and turned on the game. *****

I laid back on the floor, my head to the ceiling. We had been trying to play Tricky for over an hour and a half. Even I had to admit it was addictive. And I really sucked at it. But it was OK, because Nick kept trying to give me little words of advice, told me I was doing well, and kept filling my glass with more Chardonnay. “Whoa, that’s what you call a skylight.” I said as I looked above my head at the large glass ceiling. Nick leaned his head so that his was directly over mine.

“Yeah.” He was smiling.

“You’re drunk.” I told him.

“More wine?” He asked.

I nodded. “The color of your eyes, Nick. Its so weird.”

Nick’s expression was surprised. His head remained over me. “Huh?”

“They should make up their mind, you know? Are they blue? Are they green? Are they gray? They just can’t make up their mind.” My speech was severely slurred.

Nick got up and bound for the kitchen. I turned and watched his huge mass run across the floor like a 10 year old. God, he was a big boy. I couldn’t imagine him any better.

“I only got red left.” He said as he came out, holding yet another bottle in his right hand. In his left he held a bottle of squeeze cheese and some crackers beneath his arm. “S’that OK witchu Greenie?”

“Greenie?” I said, trying to lean up. But I fell back down. I started laughing, hard. Nick joined me. “Maybe I shouldn’t have anymore drunk. I’m really wine.” I told him, and it took us both a second to catch what I said before we cracked up again. He began his cork-screwing ritual once again and I turned to my side, watching him closely. How was it possible for a man to make opening a bottle of wine erotic?”

“That’s intensely hot.” I said. It just slipped out of my mouth. He looked up at me, raising the bottle. Somehow we had lost our glasses. “Cheese and crackers?” He asked me, actually quite huskily.

I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to make the room stop spinning. “Uh, I don’t think so.” If I had any of that squeeze cheese, I’d puke.

I turned back and looked at him. It seemed as though if I looked at him, the world would remain still. I blinked.

He took a sip from the bottle of the red wine. It splashed on his lips and he licked them. Then, he took another sip, moved over to me, grabbed my face and put his lips to mine. There was only the tiniest bit of wine in his mouth, but he shared what he had, splashing it inside of mine, just enough so I could taste it, taste the warmth before he moved his tongue in. He exhaled in a sort of grunt. I tingled. Nick pushed me over onto my back and straddled me, holding my neck, probing me with kisses. Drunk kisses, but intense none-the-less.

His upper lip grazed across my neck and I felt the roughness of the course hair he was growing. It hurt me, but only in a good way. I put my fingers in his hair, wanting to mess it up. “Oh God.” I murmured. And Nick kept going, and I kept pulling him in toward me. His hands seemed to roam my entire body, his feet rubbed against my calves, his hand found the nape of my back and pushed me against him forcefully.

“I can make you feel real.” He told me gruffly in my ear. He was so hot, and my body was so hot for him. “I can make you scream.” He told me again.

My brain reeled as he continued kissing me. Was that what I wanted? Did I want him to make me scream? Did I want this to just be any other night, any other fuck? Was that fair to me? Was it fair to him? Why did my brain always do this to me? Why did I question everything? I deserved Nick, I had been without for so long, lonely for so long. And he was lonely too, I could sense it from him, from everything he had ever said or done to me.

“Nick.” I said, trying to make the world stop spinning, trying to make the tingling sensation that was sweeping through my body, especially through my lower half, stop.

“Green.” He said in a deep voice that hardly seemed like his own. “Let me make it real.” What was his talking about? Make it real... Where had that line come from? The hand that had been rubbing his behind dropped to the carpet. What would I really get from the evening. A drunken hour of unpleasurable coarse sex? Would it be worth it? He could make it real. Make what real?

“Nick.” I repeated, trying to gain composure, feeling his coarse lips on my neck once again but losing the erotic feeling it had once been giving me. I looked at the ceiling as he continued.

“Come on.” He said, barely sensing that I was having issues.

“I don’t...” Nick didn’t let me finish, he covered my mouth with his own and kissed me deeply. The old arousal came back full fledged, but it didn’t last long. My brain was taking over. I wondered why I just couldn’t be like a man and think with my genitals. But I supposed it just wasn’t in my sexes’ personality trait. “I don’t think I can do this.” I told him.

“Oh, baby.” He grabbed my face and his drunken eyes looked into my drunken eyes. “You can, honey. It will be great. I promise. I’ll make it real.” I probably would have given into him, if he hadn’t have repeated that stupid make it real thing. He didn’t see the look in my eyes, or if he did, he ignored it and continued kissing my neck passionately.

“No, Nick. I’m serious. I don’t think I can do this.” I used one hand to grab his head and the other to pull one of his hands out from under my shirt.

Nick leaned up and glared at me. “Wha?” He seemed to be snapping out a little. But now he just looked angry.

I got scared, I have to admit it. Not that Nick would ever hurt a fly. But I didn’t know what to do. So I made the best excuse I could, the most appropriate to our situation. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” I said, pushed Nick off of me, and ran to his bathroom.

*****

Tears. If I could have controlled them, I would have. I never cried, especially never over guys. But the alcohol had taken effect and as I drove home I couldn’t stop the salt water from coming out of my eyes.

He had offered to drive me home. When I had come out of the bathroom, Nick was sitting on his couch, his legs spread wide apart, his elbows on either knee, with his head in his hands. He raised it when I walked by and I licked my chapped, bruised lips as I looked at him. “I think I’m gonna go now.” I told him and he simply nodded, turned and looked at the Christmas Tree in his living room. It lit the entire room, but it seemed so lonely there in the dark with only Nick and I to accompany it.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He turned quickly and told me.

I looked at him, tried to find something in his eyes, and sighed. “Neither do I.” I told him. But it was a lie, because I knew what I wanted from Nick. I wanted him, all of him, everything he had. I just hadn’t realized until that moment that it was probably impossible.

“You wanna ride?” He asked.

“No, I have my car.” I gulped. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to master the road. But it was Christmas night, it was clear, and it wasn’t far. Driving intoxicated would be better than the excrutiating humiliation of having to sit with him in the car for the drive.

I began walking to the door. He didn’t follow me to walk me out, just remained on the couch, staring at the tree. I turned to him before I left.

“You can’t just expect me to give you everything without you giving me something in return.” I couldn’t believe my own ears, couldn’t believe what I was saying. Maybe I was stronger than I had thought myself to be.

“Merry Christmas, Green.” Nick said, his voice barely there, dismissing me.

“Yeah.” I said and walked out the door. The highway was deserted and I cried the entire trip, revelling in my own self pity, wondering if I had blown it or if I would ever see Nick again. It was fairly quick when I arrived home, threw open the door to find an empty house. My mother must have been spending the night with Brian. It was surprising, but I supposed she thought I’d be spending the night at Nick’s.

It was hard. I wanted to curl up on my mother’s side, have her stroke my hair and tell me it was going to be alright, that the night would be over soon and that everything would look different in the morning light.

I put on a tank top and some boys pajama bottoms, my favorite, and threw myself under the quilt on the pull out. I prayed that the alcohol would lull me into a deep dreamless slumber, but as usual, it didn’t. I had always hated drunk sleep. I tossed and turned for a quarter of an hour, looked at the clock as it loomed 4:35 and wondered if this day would ever end. I sighed and listened to the night. All I could hear was the cat purring at the foot of the bed and the waves crashing against the shore on the beach outside the apartment.

I picked up my quilt, wrapped it around me and went out the back sliding glass door.

*****

It didn’t surprise me. Nothing at all could surprise me anymore tonight. His bare feet were in the water and there appropriately an empty wine bottle sitting to his right propped up in the sand. To his left there was a tiny sand castle that was really more of a small hill with a straw propped in the top as if it was a flag staff or something of the sort. I shivered. He had to have been freezing. How long had he been out there?

“You’re gonna catch your death.” I said as I walked up behind him.

Aaron didn’t flinch, didn’t seem surprised or startled by my voice. “I’m ahite.” He said as he continued looking at the ocean in a trance. It was must have been inherited, the way they both blocked the world out and sat there unfeeling, focusing their attention on something no one else could see or understand.

I picked up the empty wine bottle and threw it to the side, put my butt down in the sand next to him, and threw the quilt over mine and his shoulders.

“Whatcha doin’ AC?” I asked. I was trying to be normal. But it was hard to be. This 15 year old gorgeous kid was outside of my house at 4:30 am on Christmas Night. This was just plain surreal.

“I was drinkin’.” He stopped looking at the unknown thing out there and turned to me, pulling the quilt a bit closer around his goose-pimpled arms. “But I’m not no more cause there’s no more.

” I raised my eyebrows in understanding. It made sense. “Yeah.” I said.

“Sucks.” Aaron told me. My intoxicated eyes concentrated on the scar between his, another one. I couldn’t look at his eyes.

I seemed to be obsessed with his scars. “You got another one.” I said as I raised my hand and touched this one, rubbing my finger down it. The hair that was over his forehead grazed the back of my hand. “You’re always hurtin’ yourself.”

“Didn’t hurt.” He told me.

“You’re brave.” I told him. “You’re like wonder boy, can’t be hurt.”

He leaned on his hand and looked at me. “Yeah, I can.” He said. He was smiling, but it was with a sarcastic understanding.

“Its not right, I know.” He continued. He was oddly eloquent for having drank four bottles of wine. “But it still hurts, and I still feel it.”

I shouldn’t have answered. I should have just said, “You’re right, you’ll have to deal with the hurt, good night.” I would have said it if I had been even the slightest bit sober. But Nick’s plan had backfired on him. He had intended to get me drunk so I would forget about Aaron and sleep with him. On the contrary, here I was drunk WITH Aaron and bold enough to say, “What do you feel?”

Aaron looked down between his legs at the sand. His jaw moved. “Love.” He said very quietly. “Its wrong, but I love you.”

I shook my head, and a strand of hair came loose from my pony tail. That damn strand of hair. Aaron looked up at me once again. “I’m sorry Green. I’m sorry I’m here.” His hand reached up and brushed the strand behind my ear. And it continued downward, to feel the rest of my hair. Aaron’s hand caressed my scalp and I shuddered. If it was so cold how could I be feeling so warm?

He brought my head towards his own. Nothing felt wrong anymore. He swept me into him and our lips pressed together and we kissed once again. My heart jumped, my breath was swept from me. I tried to breath in as he continued kissing me, as I continued kissing him.

And Aaron stopped, pulled away, and looked at me, scared. But his eyes were sparkling there in the moonlight, and I prayed that morning would never come because I knew that what I was doing would never be acceptable during the day, to me or anyone else. And I pulled him back, and we began to devour one another in a frenzy of kisses.

Aaron was cautious at first. We just sat there, our feet in the water, making out. I couldn’t believe what a good kisser he was. He certainly didn’t kiss like a boy. I pushed the thought out of my mind, wanted only to feel his soft skin against my lips and my cheeks and my forehead.

It wasn’t strange at all as his hands brushed down my arms. He grabbed the quilt closer around us and forced us to be closer. I responded by pulling him toward me, running my hand through his hair. Rubbing my finger tips along his arm.

After a while, it wasn’t enough. We fell to our sides and lie there, clinging to each other, groping one another, feeling everything there was to feel over our clothes. Everything outside the quilt was cold and unforgiving. Everything inside was pure and warm and right. “Aaron.” I whispered his name, a sin on my hot lips. “Aaron, please don’t stop.”

For a moment, I understood what Nick had been saying. Oddly enough, it was his brother who was making me feel real. I begged Aaron. “Make me feel real.”

My tank top and his shirt were gone all too quickly.

*****

Nick had tried knocking on the door but there had been no answer.

He was pissed and tired and drunk. And he wanted to do right by me. Wanted to apologize and tell me he had wanted to take me in my best interest. He wanted to tell me he genuinely liked me but couldn’t exactly love me, just because at this point in his life, he couldn’t love any one girl, he could only love many.

He began to get worried. Had I not made it home? If I hadn’t it was all his fault. He could add that to his list of screw-ups. But he hadn’t seen any signs of break-downs or accidents on the way over. And there was only one road between the apartments and his house.

“Green?” He called out. He shoved his keys in his pockets and for some reason was compelled to walk around back. “She said she likes it by the beach.” He said to himself quietly.

Nick stopped short. He could see the two bodies on the sand. He knew exactly who they were. His breath was knocked out of him. Nick’s face flushed and he backed away, seeing red before his eyes and wishing only to get home so as he would not commit murder.

*****

“You taste so sweet.” He whispered in my ear. How had he taken me over the edge so quickly, with his hand, sweeping through me, making me sigh.

I couldn’t say anything. I could feel myself beginning to weep. It wasn’t from sadness. It was from sheer pleasure and happiness and warmth. And one word kept sweeping through my clouded head. “Why?” Why him? It could have been anyone else.

“You too.” I finally said. “So sweet.” I kept my wet eyelids cast downward and I began to kiss his neck, his chest, his stomach, and I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t help being drawn to what was so wanting of me, and I took him, sweetly and slowly at first, with my lips and my tongue and my mouth. It didn’t take him long but it didn’t matter because he released in joy and he pulled me back up to his face and began kissing me once again, even more passionately. My stomach tilted and turned and as I felt that we’d have to keep going and going until we could end it I looked into the sky, behind his soft blond hair, and I saw the sun.

I grabbed his face. “Aaron.” I said.

It was over. It was morning. I pushed him so that his back was in the sand and I curled up next to him, his chin on my head, his hand on my shoulder. We wrapped the blanket around us.

“Thank you.” He said to me very quietly. The sun was already getting strong.

“I’m sorry.” I answered, and one lone tear escaped, dripping down my cheek. I gulped. I felt him heave a great sigh, felt his bare chest against my own. And for the first time that night, I felt like he was so small.

I felt nauseous. I was crying now, uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.” I began to stand. He kept saying my name, touching my hair and my face and my arms, but I couldn’t let him anymore. I wrapped the quilt around my bare shoulders and chest. “Aaron, I’m sorry.” I looked into his eyes and then I ran toward my house, embarassed and ashamed and wondering if I would ever feel the way Aaron had made feel again.

Chapter 12
Summer Christmas

NinasFiction