They were led to the small dining room where three place settings had already been laid out. When he and Matt left home, his father downgraded from a three-bedroom house and moved to a smaller three-bedroom apartment. It was bigger than Tyler’s penthouse, yet still furnished and decorated in the same way, simple and practical.
“Let’s eat,” Roscoe said, opening up the store-bought roast chicken.
Although he’d always tried to be both mother and father to the two of them, cooking had never been a strength of his. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes were the norm for Christmas Eve dinner. And they loved it.
The meal was eaten quietly, the conversations were stilted and a little forced. Roscoe accepted the moodiness of his two sons, but it was only because he was waiting for the right time to start probing. Matthew was always a lot more forthcoming, so Roscoe started with him first. “Something bothering you?” he asked, looking at Matt from across the table.
“Nope. All good, Pap.”
“That’s great.” He didn’t buy it and continued probing, instinctively going to the root of the problem. “And how’s Gemma?”
Matt continued picking a piece of chicken apart with his fork and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he responded tersely. “I woke up to anoteyesterday morning. It said…See you in two months. XOXO…Gemma.” He smiled, tight and dripping with bitterness. “She put a cute little lipstick kiss in the corner. I thought that was a nice touch.”
“She’s like that, Matt,” Tyler argued. “She’s unpredictable. She comes and goes as she pleases.”
Matthew was definitely not in the mood to listen to excuses tonight. He gave another dismissive shrug. “Whatever.”
That signaled the end of that discussion and Roscoe’s eyes moved over to Tyler. “What about you? What’s got you wound so tight?”
This feels like a group therapy session.“Well, Dad. I just recently discovered…that…” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “…that Abby’s baby was switched at birth, so…she’s not even the biological mother.” He looked away and stared at his plate. “I’m pretty upset about it.”
“Okay, Son,” his father said with soft reassurance. “When you’re ready.”
“Why are you still watching that stupid Soap Opera?” Matt asked.
“You know why,” he whispered with a disheartened smile.
“Yeah. I do.”
It wasn’t the happiest Christmas Eve they’d spent together. There were a few laughs. His dad tried to make them feel better, but their combined depression was insurmountable and probably exhausting for him. At eleven o’ clock, Roscoe decided to turn in. He kissed both of them on the head and went to bed.
There was silence for a few minutes before Tyler looked over at his best friend. “Hey, Matt,” he suggested.
“It’s a great idea, Ty.”
“What shall it be?”
“Whatever is gonna get us really drunk really fast.”
*****
Tyler and Matthew stood in the check-out queue. There was a cosmic force against them tonight, one hell-bent on keeping them sober. They weren’t big drinkers, so the lack of knowledge about places that sold liquor already made it a difficult exercise. Add to that the fact that it was ten minutes to midnight on Christmas Eve and finding a place that was still open was also a challenging task.
Over and above that, this wasn’t a liquor store. It was a small grocery store that happened to sell alcohol as well, so options were limited. After scanning the selections of cheap wine, cheap champagne and cheap brandy, they’d settled on the brandy.
However, the biggest obstacle they seemed to be facing was this store clerk, a pimply teenager who was part snail and part sloth. He also seemed to be dyslexic when it came to reading numbers and reversing transactions on an outdated cash register was something they hadn’t taught him during his on-the-job training.
They’d been waiting in line for twenty-five minutes and there were only four people in the queue.
“I don’t get it,” Matthew complained irritably. “It can’t possibly be that hard. And if he doesn’t know how to use a cash register, why is he theonlyone working tonight?”
“Relax. I’m sure we’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”
“You said that ten minutes ago and we haven’t moved one inch.”
Matt grabbed a candy cane from the rack on the side of them. It was too big for even an adult to finish in one sitting, so he put it back and continued scanning the array of sweets and chocolates. The lady in front took her change and left the store. The customers in front of them shuffled forward, but before Tyler could do the same, a short, fat man dressed in a Santa suit cut in front of them.
“Hey! Excuse me, Fat Santa,” Matthew said, tapping him on the shoulder. “We were in line.”
