Page 52 of Five Gold Rings

‘I just want to do the right thing here. You’re amazing, you know that, right?’ he whispers into my ear. I try to take in the compliment, still tearing up. ‘Please don’t be upset. It’s Christmas Eve, Eve.’

I drunkenly wipe my face down on his shoulder. ‘You said that already, this morning,’ I mumble.

‘I did. Shall we get you back to mine? Get some stockings up?’ he jokes.

‘Stop talking in innuendo,’ I say, still emotional, still delirious.

‘Or maybe we can put some cookies and milk out for Santa?’ he asks.

But I don’t reply. I hide inside him. Forget we ever kissed. Please, Joe. Just look after me. Stay with me. I’m sorry. The hug is so warm, such a comfort, that I close my eyes, holding him close.

Joe

Christmas Day

Merry Christmas.

I remember, one Christmas I was adamant that I was going to stay awake the whole night so I could catch Santa in the act. He was not going to fool me again. I set up camp in the living room with a torch and had it all planned out. He’d come down the chimney, I’d take a picture and then I’d have a casual chat with him, play it cool, explain why I’d cut off my sister’s doll’s hair because she stole my football stickers. Of course, it never happened. Like some sort of magic, my mum and dad managed to orchestrate Christmas around me when I passed out around midnight. I woke up tired, grumpy that I’d missed it allbutwith a brand new Scalextric that compensated for all that disappointment.

I wish I was that ten-year-old boy now, sat in that living room full of life, wrapping paper and colour. Because I didn’t sleep last night. I didn’t get to meet Santa. I’m not sure that I got what I wanted at all. Trafalgar Square was magical but confusing. It usually is, there are far too many exits and people. But it started with Theo mumbling into my ear, pulling me in for a hug to say goodbye.

‘Eve’s the girl, isn’t she? The one you’ve been in love with for two years.’

I smiled, hoping the sound of the crowds and Christmas swing music had drowned him out so Eve didn’t hear that.

‘Please tell her… She’s kind of adorable. ’Tis the season,’ he pleaded quietly.

‘Season of secrets,’ I said back to him. I was in love with her.Was. It’s important for me to start putting that in the past tense now that it’s clear it’s not happening. But then the kiss… Less a kiss, more of a drunken mis-aimed smooch. One that felt so incredibly right for the briefest of moments, one I allowed myself to get caught up in because it was Eve. But it was also wrong. Emotionally and rationally, it didn’t feel like a kiss because she wanted me. She didn’t back in that swish hotel, when she was marginally more sober, so what she wanted was a drunken snog, to replace her sad feelings about Chris, and any follow up would have taken advantage of her drunkenness and made both of us feel like shit.

No one wants to wake up on Christmas Day like that, full of regret. It’s times like that when it sucks to be both sober and practical. You are many things, Joe, but you’re not a dick. Your sisters would be very proud of you. So, I kissed her and I brought her home. Just not like that and I really don’t know how I feel about any of it. All I know is that I’ve woken up on Christmas Day feeling a tad hollow.

I hear the keys turn in the door and the familiar footsteps of Gabriel walking through into our living space, jumping out of his skin when he clocks me sitting there without the lights on.

‘JESUS! What on earth are you doing?’ he squeals. ‘I nearly shat myself.’

‘I’m having a coffee. There’s some in the pot if you want it,’ I explain, pushing some of my reduced-price mince pies in his direction, ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ he says, dancing towards me, full of the joys of the day that I can’t seem to find. He gives me a big hug, looking at the sofa, unslept on. I remember the last time I messaged Gabriel was when I was freaking out after Eve and I kissed in the hotel.

‘YOU SLEPT IN THE SAME BED!’ he squeals, realising he’s being quite loud. ‘On Christmas Eve! The universe has spoken.’

‘I didn’t sleep with her,’ I say.

‘Oh,’ he says, his face immediately registering his disappointment. ‘Why? What happened after the kiss?’

‘She got more drunk, there was another kiss but then I realised I’m also a gentleman, so I didn’t take it any further. I slept on the floor next to her.’ I say slept. More like I lay there, overthinking, making sure she didn’t choke on her own vomit.

‘Such a gentleman,’ he tells me, sitting down at the table. ‘So why so sullen this Christmas morning?’

‘I am not.’

‘Yes, you are. You’re normally a morning person and you LOVE Christmas. Anyway…’ he says, reaching into his rucksack. ‘I will see your mince pies and raise you some of them good cinnamon pastries from that Swedish bakery near the hospital. They were giving them away last night,’ he tells me, placing them all on the table.

‘Maybe later we can braid each other’s hair and sing Christmas carols together,’ I tell him.

Gabriel stops. Sarcasm is not my usual remit, so he knows this is something more. ‘But you kissed… that’s a good thing,’ Gabriel reminds me, confused.

‘And nothing. I got the impression last night that it will lead to nothing. I think I’ve been friend-zoned and the last thing I wanted to be is some drunken rebound shag. That’s just not the way to do things. It’s all a bit messy, mate.’