"Hey," said Clayton. He waited until Kyle's attention was on him, which didn't take long at all, before he spoke. "Here's an idea. Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"
"Come with you?" asked Kyle, his eyebrows drawing together as though Clayton was suddenly speaking Urdu.
"Tomorrow," said Clayton. "To my sister's house for Christmas." He let out a rush of air as he said it, nervous at Kyle's reaction, while at the same time feeling very, very glad he'd suggested it. "If the roads are clear, of course. And if not tomorrow, then the next day."
"I couldn't do that," said Kyle, his face flushed. He got up from the table and started clearing the plates, seeming to want something to do with his hands while he avoided catching Clayton's eye. "I couldn't intrude on your first Christmas with your sister and her new husband. Especially since you've not seen her in, what, two years? Three?"
Kyle shook his head and was busy at the sink, the water running hot and at full bore. Clayton stayed where he was, licking his forefinger and tapping it in the crumbs of fried bread on the table. He needed to move slow. He needed to make sure that Kyle knew one hundred percent that he was welcome.
And beneath that was the warm, joyful desire to let Kyle know that a visit for Christmas at his sister's house wasn't all that Clayton wanted. But he couldn't just say,Hey, while I'm driving a truck back and forth across the western states, can I use your house as a stopping off point?
Can I wipe my boots on the mat before I open the door without knocking?
Can I holler for you and find you in the kitchen where you are laying out a strip of darkened leather and making sure it's just as it ought to be before you start stamping it with a design?
Can I draw you close and kiss you and tell you that honey, I'm home?
He couldn't go that fast himself, couldn't rush through this or he'd mess it up. And he sure as hell wasn't going to rush Kyle through it. Yes, they'd talked and eaten meals together, and sheltered from the storm together, and spent Christmas morning together. But that didn't mean there was anything else to it but that.
Maybe it was just the magic of the season, and Clayton's head had been dazzled by tinsel and glitter and the scent of a pine tree in the warmth of an orange and gold fire. His belly had been fed, and he'd been warm, and maybe that was just it, that was all there was. A Christmas host and a Christmas guest, and tomorrow, they would part ways and it would be over.
But he didn't want it to be over. His throat grew thick as he thought of it being over and he was sure, quite sure, that he didn't want it to be.
Swallowing, Clayton thought of getting up and going to Kyle's side, where Kyle was standing at the counter wrapping the bread and the cheese, putting things in the fridge. Kyle shouldn't be doing that with his hands, not if he wanted to be a craftsman, making beautiful articles that would stand the test of time. Clayton would do the dishes forever and a day, if it meant that Kyle didn't have to?—
Forever and a day. Christmas lasted a day, but forever was forever. And the memories beneath both of those entwined the two together, like a red ribbon, or a Christmas scarf.
The least Clayton could do was say what was on his mind. He didn't have to drop all of it on Kyle at once, like a hot and unwanted potato. But if he walked away from this encounter without saying what he felt, what warm feelings were inside of him, then he was a liar and a coward. And Clayton knew he was neither.
"Kyle—"
"I can't intrude," said Kyle firmly. "It wouldn't be right."
Kyle turned away from the sink and the fridge and the after-dinner chores, finally, and leaned back in that way he had. With his one foot crossed over an ankle, and his hands behind him, bracing himself against the kitchen counter.
"It would be," said Clayton. "If you'll let me explain."
"Fine," said Kyle, in a short way that let Clayton know, or at least he thought he knew, that Kyledidwant to go with him,only he couldn't think of a reason why he should intrude on some other family's Christmas. "How would it be okay?"
"My Uncle Bill says—you remember Uncle Bill, right?" Clayton raised his eyebrows and ducked his chin to let Kyle know he was joking around. And maybe Kyle knew he wanted a smile, because Clayton got one. A little one, but it was there, quirking at the corners of Kyle's mouth. "He says that what Luke wants is a table full of family at holiday time with a big, golden turkey in the middle."
"I'm not family, though," said Kyle.
"There's different ways to define family," said Clayton. "And you and I both know how true that is. Besides, are you going to call my Uncle Bill a liar? If he says that Luke wants as many people around that table as can possibly fit, then that's what he means."
For a moment, Kyle was quiet, his head tipped down as he studied his own feet. He must have seen the hole in his sock then, for hetsk tskedat himself, and lifted his heel to poke at the hole and then put his foot down, both literally and figuratively.
"Only if you call and ask your sister, first," said Kyle, his voice warbling as though he was trying to stop it from shaking. He raised his head to look at Clayton, and his russet hair fell across his eyes, shading the blue, as if Kyle was trying to shield how he felt, deep inside. "That's the deal."
"That's the deal," said Clayton, nodding his agreement. "But here's the other deal, and I want to make it plain, so you can back out if you want before I call her."
"What other deal?" asked Kyle. He scrunched up his mouth. "Is this about the reward? I really don't want it, you know, so there's no point insisting on it."
"No," said Clayton, quite slowly and carefully, his heart starting to race. "It's about you and me. It's about you and me when it's not Christmas any more. It's about you finding someone you can apprentice with to learn leather andbeadwork. It's about me maybe not driving a truck for a delivery company anymore, but maybe I can drive an F-150 and haul a sweet, silver Airstream around from fair to fair while you?—"
Clayton groaned and buried his head in his hands, his fingers gripping his hair. He'd started out slow but then the words had escaped him so fast it was like they'd slipped on a long stretch of ice, at one end him and his stupid mouth and at the other, a dark unknown.
He had just screwed everything up, and now Kyle would back out of the trip to Sarah's house, and there Clayton would be. He'd be reconciled with Sarah and he'd be able to be with Shawn again, too, but other than that, he'd have only the memories of this Christmas behind him and a bleak white wasteland of a future ahead of him.
