The memory enveloped me, a ghostly caress, as if Ezra’s laughter was a whisper in the hum of shoppers, his presence a phantom warmth at my side. It was there, in the midst of the delicate dance of hanging ornaments, that a truth had settled within me. I had started to fall—not into a simple, shallow pool of affection, but into the kind of love that sinks deep into your bones, the kind that reshapes the very fabric of your being.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out where in the fuck everything had gone to hell. He’d been happy this morning when I dropped him off at Shiloh’s, but by the time he arrived at Harmony House, something had shifted. But what?
The hum of the store faded as I stood lost in thought, a single question echoing through my mind. Where had it all gone wrong? Just this morning, Ezra had been a beacon of warmth in my otherwise mundane routine. As I hovered between rows of festive decor, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the December air.
“Carson?” Rodney’s gruff voice broke through my reverie. “What are you doing moping around the Christmas section? Ain’t like you to be caught dead here without a reason.”
I turned to find Rodney, his rugged face more worn than usual, eyes scanning the shelves with a practiced detachment. He was holding a couple of action figures, likely for his grandkids. I remembered he’d mentioned they were coming over for the holidays.
“Just picking up some stuff,” I muttered, my voice lacking conviction. Rodney raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second.
He placed the toys in his cart and stepped closer, his gaze sharpening. “You look like someone ran over your dog, boy. Spit it out.”
I shifted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “It’s Ezra,” I admitted, the name feeling like a balm and a sting. “We had a…misunderstanding, I guess.”
Rodney snorted, a sound that was more understanding than dismissive. “Misunderstanding, huh? That the term we’re using now for lover’s spats?”
“It’s not like that,” I defended, though my heart wasn’t in it. “We didn’t fight. He just…retreated. Said he needed space.”
“Space,” Rodney echoed, a frown creasing his forehead. He leaned against the display, causing a precarious tower of boxed ornaments to wobble. “Let me tell you something, Carson. I’ve had more years than I’d like to admit thinking over space. It’s never about the space itself. It’s about the fear of what fills it. Your boy’s scared, and it’s on you to prove to him you’re not gonna bail the second things get tough.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes that spoke of personal experience. Rodney had always been the rock, the immovable force in our small town, but, in that moment, I saw the cracks.
“Rodney, I—” I began, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
“Don’t ‘Rodney’ me with that tone. If this Ezra kid means half of what I’ve seen he means to you, you fight for him. You don’t let fear—his or yours—dictate the play. You hear me?”
His words were a jolt, snapping me out of the fog that had settled over me. I realized then that Rodney was more than the tough exterior he projected. He was the embodiment of the lessons life had handed him, lessons he was now passing onto me.
“You’re right,” I conceded, my resolve firming. “That doesn’t mean I know fuck-all about how to fix this. Hell, I’m not even sure what I did to freak him out.”
Rodney’s gaze softened, the lines of experience etching a map of understanding across his face. “Listen, you’re both new to this dance, right? It’s like learning to walk. You’re gonna step on each other’s toes a bit, maybe even fall on your ass. But you get up, you learn, and you try not to make the same mistake twice.”
I let out a dry chuckle despite the turmoil inside. “Easier said than done.”
“Nothing worth having comes easy, son,” Rodney replied, his voice firm. “Take it from an old man who’s been through the wringer a few times. If you love him—and I see it clear as day that you do—you make the grandest gesture you can muster. You show him he’s worth the effort.”
I nodded, a plan quietly taking root. Ezra’s passion for Christmas, his face lighting up at the mention of traditions and decorations… It was that same magic that had ensnared me despite myself. “You think going the extra mile is what it takes?” I asked, more to myself than to Rodney.
Rodney gave a chuckle that rumbled deep from his chest, his nod slow but deliberate. “It’s about effort, Carson. These baubles? They’re trivial things, but they represent the effort someone’s willing to make. That’s what sticks.”
My gaze drifted back to the display of cookie ornaments, each a delicate replica of Ezra’s creations. They weren’t just bits of painted glass to me. They were fragments of shared laughter, mutual dreams, and the warm glow of Ezra’s smile. “Thanks, Rodney,” I said, feeling a solid resolve replacing the hollowness. “I’ve got some things to sort out.”
Rodney’s hand came down on my shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie from the old man. “Don’t dawdle. These things have a way of slipping through your fingers if you’re not careful.”
I placed a large wicker basket in the shopping cart to keep the stuff for my apartment separate from what needed to go to Harmony House in the morning. I grabbed one of each of the cookie ornaments, every one a promise I intended to keep. I wasn’t just trying to fill the branches of a Christmas tree. I hoped to fill a space in our lives, a place where fear and doubt had no hold.
Of course, that meant I also had to buy a tree. I’d never decorated, never seen a need. The holidays were all celebrated at my parents’ place, and anyone who knew me well enough to be invited into my space understood I wasn’t the holly-jolly type. My ego was tempted to make a bold statement by grabbing the biggest, fullest tree of the bunch, but logic kicked in. Not only did I not have the space, but no matter how Anson liked to give me shit about having expendable cash, even I had limits.
Besides, I looked forward to the future, when the ornaments Ezra and I bought together would adorn the same tree, when my brothers gave me shit for having two because there was no doubt in my mind Ezra would insist we put them both up.
I grabbed what would eventually be the smaller of our trees, a funky little thing that didn’t even come pre-lit. It was the thought that counted, right?
After the tree, I went to housewares and got one of those plug-in air fresheners, remembering Ezra’s smile when he’d plugged it in and the room had been almost overcome with the scent of apples and cinnamon. Plus, no matter how clean I kept my home, there was always a lingering smell of grease and gasoline. That wasn’t the first impression I hoped to make when I invited him over.
As I lined up at the checkout, I sensed Rodney’s approving nod. These ornaments were more than festive trinkets. They were the beginnings of a blueprint, pieces of a future I was determined to build with Ezra.
The drive home was more reflective than usual, the dashboard’s glow the only light in the car, piercing the still night. As I drove through Pineville, each stoplight was a reminder, bathing the cab in a red or green glow—a mocking echo of festive joy that still felt just out of reach but getting closer.
