Once we’d finished opening presents—Bridget got me a thin silk scarf that was barely even pretending to not be aboutbondage, and I worked to keep a straight face—and we gathered together sharing stories and trading old jokes and banter late into the evening by the fireplace crackle and warm drinks, it was Grandpa who ended the evening, unceremoniously going upstairs to signal that he’d had enough conversation. Kevin and Sam went with me and Bridget to the front doors after rounds of merry-Christmas wishes and goodbyes all around the family, and Kevin smiled softly at us on the front stoop as Sam stayed inside getting bundled up in the thirteen or fourteen layers he needed for the frost of the night that clung to my face when we got outside.
“Successful Christmas, I think,” he said, his breath forming little clouds that glistened in the porch light glow.
“I didn’t realize you had a mission to accomplish here,” I said, and he rolled his eyes, smiling wider.
“I always do, and it’s to survive. But mostly I’m impressed we had zero blowups over my boyfriend or your girlfriend.”
Bridget tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “I mean, of course they like me. What’s not to love? Except apparently for the fact that nobody knows what a porn star is.”
“Well, Nan’s on top of it,” Kevin said cheerily. I wrinkled my nose.
“I don’t want to know if Nan’s made progress trying to break into the industry.”
“How are you feeling?” he said. “You know, back from California.”
“Cold,” I laughed, but I softened knowing full well what he meant. He always knew I’d wanted out, even if we never talked about it outright. Even though I was so happy with Bridget, staying with her, being together with her, part of me had panicked that I was failing when I got in touch with Mark Castle again and took the job back in the old office. If I was losing part of myself by signing up to stay here.
But Bridget had been right. Nothing was permanent if we didn’t want it to be. Maybe one day I’d move somewhere else, see what else life could be. When that day came, Bridget would come with me. And until that day came, I was stable, I was in a good job, and I was together with the love of my life.
Plus, well, we were both really into the whole… you know, long day at work, Bridget was waiting for me when I got back… I wasn’t thinking about that right now.
“California was really nice,” I said. “Our friends were great, and we enjoyed meeting their friends too, seeing their community. Going out to the little bars and hipster burger joints they like in the area. Trips to San Francisco, taking pictures in front of the Golden Gate Bridge like tacky tourists.”
“So, big fan,” he said, voice loaded.
“Pretty big. I don’t know.” I looked at Bridget, and she shrugged, picking up on the conversation.
“It’s not like we wouldn’t go there,” she said. “Although Grandpa’s not kidding about the rent! My god. It’s a good thing one of Gina’s girlfriends works in medicine.”
“But we’re also not rushing towards anything,” I said. “We’re taking our time. I’m happy here too.”
He nodded, looking at where he scraped his shoe on the brick porch. “Just as long as you’re back for the holidays. I’d hate to be the only gay couple here. Don’t know what’d happen without Bridget liking Sam and Mom wanting Bridget to be happy.”
The door opened, Christmas wreath bouncing on the front when it did, and Sam stepped out looking like he was ready for an Everest expedition. “Ooh, we’re talking about me?” he said.
“Yeah,” Bridget said, “to talk about how likeable and influential I am.”
“Okay, fair though,” Sam said. “Well, I’d say this was a better Christmas than the last one, but Iamtoo cold. C’mon,babe, let’s get to the car and put the heat on full blast until I’m not a little popsicle anymore.”
Kevin gave me a loaded smile as he stepped away with a hand on Sam’s back. “See you for New Year’s?”
“I’ll be here. See you, Kev. Stay warm, Sam.”
Bridget sidled up next to me, watching as Sam fumbled with Kevin to the car, muttering about the cold and slipping on snow and ice the whole way, and she laughed softly, her breath curling up in soft wisps as she pressed into my side. “I’d come back for the holidays here,” she said. “I mean, I’m better suited for them than Sam is, at least.”
“I do have to come back for the holidays if nothing else,” I said. “In the end, nobody makes holiday tacos like Mom does.”
“Ah, yeah…” She held up the little gift-paper bag of Christmas cookies we’d had pushed into our hands on the way out. “Or these cookies! Big fan of the cookies. Let’s get back and dig in.”
“I could go for a plush chair in a quiet room, a big cup of peppermint tea, and a cookie.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m so pent-up from not getting to masturbate this morning that I feel like my pussy is going to explode, so I’ll go do, like, a nice festive live show for all the people who want some company on Christmas.”
“Oh, well, aren’t you saintly?”
She brushed her hair back. “Saint Bridget, patron saint of pussy. I’ll take it.”
The door swung open again and Mom stepped out with a soft smile. “You two are still hanging out on the front step?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
