Read Online Remembering Christmas by Drew Ferguson - Free Book Online Page B

magnificent island he had only seen on television and at the movies.
    â€œOh, I have a job. I interned in a recording studio last summer, and they offered me an apprentice engineer position. I start in June.”
    James couldn’t picture this big country boy, handsome but unpolished, his vowels thickened by a mountain drawl, surviving the city. James was probably confused, hearing only bits and pieces of the conversation, distracted by the deafening racket of a packed barroom. . . . Did the kid say he’d been an intern? Where? Doing what? James had already forgotten. He was moving beyond a pleasant buzz, well on his way to becoming staggeringly drunk. Time to cut himself off and find his way back to the motel. But his new best friend behind the bar had different ideas.
    â€œCheers,” the boy said, pouring two more Crown Royals and proposing a toast. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”
    Jason swallowed his shot and winked again. His cheerful smile, all cheeks and bright, straight teeth, made it impossible for the gesture to look as dirty and suggestive as he intended.
    â€œDon’t you be disappearing on me, Jimmy. Mom says I have to close the bar tonight.”
    Â 
    James stood by the bed, trying to steady himself, rocking on the balls of his feet.
    â€œOkay, okay, I’m coming,” he croaked, hoping to silence the persistent pounding that had roused him from blissful oblivion.
    He opened the door and threw his forearm across his face, shielding his bloodshot eyes from the blinding sunlight reflected off the fresh, clean snowdrifts. He was greeted with a Merry Christmas and an awkward peck on the cheek as Jason swept past him, a large bottle of water in one hand and a paper cup of steaming coffee in the other.
    â€œI figured you’d need these. And I wanted to make sure you were awake. You look like you could sleep through the day. Here, drink this first,” he said, handing James the water.
    He chugged the entire bottle without taking a breath. His dehydrated body could have absorbed three of the five Great Lakes.
    â€œHow’s your head?” Jason asked.
    Not bad actually, considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed last night.
    â€œYou almost bit off my fingers when I forced you to swallow those aspirin last night.”
    â€œYou know too much about hangovers for a kid,” James protested, his raspy voice cracking and breaking like a pubescent boy’s. Christ, had he been smoking last night too?
    â€œMy mother owns a bar. Remember?”
    He did, vaguely. It was coming back into focus. The noise. The whiskey and the beer. Someone pulling a gun and waving it at a suspect girlfriend. Pissing on his shoes at the urinal. Something about Boston and the Berklee College of Music. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” James standing on the bar singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Falling on his ass on the ice. A pair of dykes laughing and swearing as they dragged him from the car and threw him on the bed. This boy, Jason, yanking off his pants and pulling the blanket up to his chin, wishing James sweet dreams as he gave him a chaste good-night kiss on the forehead. And, God, no, please, no, yes, yes, he did: James grabbing the kid by the arm and pulling him down on the mattress, pleading with him to spend the night, promising he wouldn’t touch him, just sleep, all he wanted was to sleep with him.
    â€œI gotta get back to church for eleven o’clock Mass. I’ll pick you up around twelve-thirty. You didn’t forget, did you?”
    James must have looked perplexed.
    â€œYou’re coming to my mom’s for Christmas dinner. It’ll be fun.”
    He grabbed James’s unshaven cheeks and kissed him on his stale, sour mouth.
    â€œI’ve been wanting to do that since the first minute I saw you,” Jason said, blushing as he turned to leave, leaving James stunned, his knobby knees