Marie Sexton - Coda 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (12 page)

“It’s for your friend.”
“My friend?” I asked, surprised.

“It was your mother’s. It’s been in the kitchen cabinet all these years.” He shrugged. “I never knew what to do with it. It seemed wrong to throw it out, but I don’t cook, and neither do you.” That explained why it looked familiar. It had sat on our kitchen countertop for most of my childhood. It was my mother’s recipe box. “I thought the fruitcake might want it.”

“His name is
Cole
,” I said sternly. He shrugged again, as if Cole’s name was inconsequential. And yet he was giving him something that had belonged to my mother, which meant that he respected my decision 95

to be with him—to some extent at least. “You want me to give this to him?”

 

“Isn’t that what I just said?” he asked, and I almost laughed, because he sounded so much like Cole.

 

“I’m not sure Mom’s tater-tot casserole is exactly his style,” I said.

I regretted having said it immediately. All at once, his ghosts were upon him again, and he looked down at the table in front of him. “Jon,” he said quietly, “I can’t hang on to these things forever. He’s the only person I know who might want it.”

I suspected Cole would laugh when I gave it to him, but my dad didn’t have to know that. “Okay, Dad,” I said. “I’ll give it to him.”

We ended up having a good time. He wanted to take me to a game, and he hounded me the entire time to choose between the Suns and the Cardinals, and when I finally chose the Cardinals he asked if he should buy three tickets. I couldn’t imagine Cole going to a football game and told him no.

I got home around eight and found Cole reading on my couch, exactly as I had anticipated. “How was dinner?” he asked as he set his book aside.

“Good.”

 

“What did your father give you?” he asked, holding his hand out for the box I was carrying.

 

“This isn’t for me,” I said. “It’s for you. My dad asked me to give it to you.”

 

“To
me
?” he asked, his eyes wide with astonishment. “It’s silly, I know,” I said as he took the box and opened it, “but he wanted you to have it.”

 

He pulled out the first card and looked at it. And then he went very, very still. “Where did this come from?”

 

“It was my mother’s.”

 

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“Really?” he asked, turning to me, and the light in his eyes was at once beautiful and painful to see. There was something like hope there, and he might even have been close to tears. It surprised me. Not only did he not think it was silly, but he seemed to be truly touched. How could that little box mean so much to him?

“I doubt there’s anything there you want,” I said skeptically.

He put the box down on the table and came over to me. He took my head in his hands and stood on his toes a little so he could look in my eyes. “Sometimes you’re such a fool,” he said. But he said it lightly. He kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“It’s from my father,” I said, still unsure why it mattered. “I’ll be sure to thank him, too,” he said, letting go of me.

He followed me into the bedroom—I couldn’t wait to get out of my suit—and I was surprised to find two large shopping bags on my bed. “What are these?” I asked as I hung up my suit jacket.

“You said you needed shirts.”
“Well, yeah. But I didn’t mean for
you
to buy them!”

“You hate shopping. I don’t. I have time. You don’t. It seemed like the obvious solution. It’s not a big deal, love.”

I started looking through the bags. There were at least a dozen shirts. Only three of them were white, which was what I normally wore. And there were five ties in colors that were all well outside my comfort zone. “I’m not sure I can wear these.”

“Oh honey, just once in a while, can’t you loosen up? Try something new? Maybe live a little?”

 

A dozen shirts, five ties, and all from a store I knew to be fairly expensive. “This is too much for a birthday gift.”

“They’re not for your birthday.” He pulled a receipt out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I knew you would make a fuss about it, so I’ll let you pay me back.”

The total on the receipt was high, but not outlandish for what he had bought. And it would save me the trouble of shopping for myself. 97

 

“Thank you,” I said, “for the clothes
and
for not arguing with me about the money.”

“You’re welcome, love.” He took another envelope off of the dresser and handed it to me. “
This
is your gift. And don’t you dare ask to reimburse me for this, too.”

“I won’t,” I said, but I hoped he hadn’t gone too overboard. I opened the envelope and pulled out a card. And a gift certificate. “
Skydiving
?” I asked in bewilderment.

“Yes,” he said, smiling at me. “I thought you might enjoy it.” Just the thought of it was enough to make my stomach turn somersaults. The idea was horrifying. “Are you kidding?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he said, obviously amused.
“Are you coming with me?”

He shuddered dramatically. “Honey, please! Can you even
imagine
me jumping out of a perfectly good airplane?” He shook his head at me as he started to undo the buttons on my shirt. “Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all,” he teased.

That seemed like the pot calling the kettle black. “What makes you think
I
want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane?”

He stopped and seemed to think about it for a moment. When he looked up at me, his eyes weren’t laughing at all. “You’re so serious all the time, love. You’re the most down-to-earth person I know.” He shrugged. “I thought you might long to fly.”
98

Date: December 4
From: Cole
To: Jared

I’m in Paris now for the holidays. Don’t act so surprised. I know you think I live only for Jonathan these days, but I assure you, that is not the case. I find it amusing that your sense of romanticism is so heightened now that you have that big mean cop in your life. It’s adorable, really.

I came to Paris like I always do for Christmas. I must admit that it’s dreadfully dull. I find the company of my usual friends here rather tedious, and I’m just not inclined to hunt down anyone new. I suppose I’m also a little put out because I was supposed to meet my dear mother here, and she of course made an excuse at the last minute, as she always does. I expected it, although I must say, it still annoys me more than it should. At least I no longer have to feel guilty for not having put much thought into her gift.

Speaking of gifts, I have absolutely no idea what to get Jonathan. And lord knows I can’t spend too much money on him. Everything about that man is a struggle.

C
OLE
’
S
announcement shortly before Thanksgiving that he was

leaving the country for the holidays took me completely by surprise. When we had first started seeing each other, he had been away as much as he was home. Coupled with my own frequent traveling for work, we had only been able to see each other erratically. I realized now that over the last few months, he had been in town more often than not. And nearly any night that I was in Phoenix, we spent together. I was surprised at how much I missed him.
99

For better or worse, I was away myself for the better part of the first three weeks of December. Half of that time was spent in Vegas and half in LA. I arrived back in Phoenix on December twenty-second. The good news was there were no plans to send me back out of town for at least a month. I breathed a mental sigh of relief over that.

I spent Christmas Eve with my dad like always. We exchanged gifts and went out to dinner, then attended a midnight mass. I was one of those people who never stepped foot in a church except for on Christmas Eve night, and then only because I couldn’t imagine making my dad go alone. Christmas was a time when the ghosts of my mother and sister seemed to haunt him the most. This year seemed worse. I knew he was lonely, but I had no idea how to help. He said goodbye with a voice that was thick with tears. I drove home and went to bed feeling lonely and depressed.

My phone was ringing at six o’clock on Christmas morning, and I dragged myself out of bed, cursing whoever it was until I looked at the display and saw Cole’s name. Then I found myself smiling.

“Hello?”

 

“I know it’s terribly early there, honey, but it’s four in the afternoon here, and I got tired of waiting.”

 

I couldn’t believe how happy it made me just hearing his voice. “I think I forgive you.”

“I don’t miss you at all.”
“I don’t miss you either. Please tell me you’re coming home.” “Ten more days. Did you have a good Christmas Eve?”

“It was fine,” I lied, because I didn’t want to tell him how depressing it had actually been. “How about you?”

“I went to the market at the
Avenue des Champs-Elysées. I spent the entire time trying to find you the perfect present, and I failed miserably.”

“Don’t buy me anything,” I begged. “Just come home and make me dinner.”

 

100

 

“Is that how it is?” he asked jokingly. “You don’t miss
me
, but you do miss my cooking?”
“I’ve been eating frozen pizzas almost every night.” “Honey, I don’t know how you ever survived without me,” he said, and I laughed.
“I’m not sure either.”

We talked for over an hour, and at the end, I couldn’t believe how hard it was to hang up the phone. I told myself it was only because it was Christmas Day and I was completely alone. I mostly believed it.

I
DIDN
’
T
hear from him again until the first Thursday in January. It

was past ten, and I was getting ready to go to bed.
“Hey, sweetie. I just got in.”
“It’s about time,” I said, smiling.
“Did you miss me?”

“Not at all,” I told him. “Not even a little bit. Certainly not every single day.”

“Since we haven’t missed each other these last few weeks, I suppose there’s no point in asking you to come and spend the weekend with me.”

“I’ll be there in time for dinner.”
“Is that the best you can do?”

It made me smile, knowing that he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him. “I might be able to sneak out a couple of hours early.”

“Only if you want to,” he said, but I could tell by his voice that he was pleased.

 

I wasn’t able to leave quite as early as I had hoped, but I still made it to his house shortly before five. I knocked on the door, but 101

didn’t bother waiting for him to answer. I dropped my bag inside the door, but kept his wrapped present with me. I hadn’t seen him in nearly six weeks, and I was actually surprised at how nervous I was. I assumed he would be cooking, but the kitchen was empty. Not only that, there didn’t seem to be anything on the stove or in the oven. No tantalizing aromas filled the room.

I found him in the living room, sound asleep. He was wrapped in a blanket, curled into a corner of his couch. His hair had been cut since I had seen him last, and I thought of the butterfly on the back of his neck, which would be completely accessible now. I couldn’t wait to put my lips on it. I crept silently up next to him. He never allowed me any intimacy that was not a part of sex, but I hoped he would be too tired to push me away this time.

I leaned close, my nose almost in his hair, and breathed in his sweet scent. I moved the blanket off of his neck, and just barely, put my lips against his skin—

And was immediately slammed in the nose by the side of his head as he startled awake, shoving me away in surprise.

“Ow!” I said, clutching my nose.
“Good lord, Jonny! You about gave me a heart attack!”

My eyes were watering, but I was still pleased that I had shocked him enough to make him say some version of my name. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said around my hand, “but I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re home.”

“Even though you didn’t miss me at all?” he teased.
“Even though.”

There were tissues on the table next to him, and he handed me one. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“Only a little,” I said as I dried my eyes. “I suppose it serves me right for sneaking up on you.”

 

“You really did deserve it,” he said.

 

102

 

I reached behind me for his gift and presented it to him. It was a bottle of wine, wrapped in silver foil. “Merry Christmas.”

 

“I didn’t get you anything,” he said as he started to unwrap it.

“I don’t mind.” His cheeks turned bright red when he saw the label, but he smiled. It was a bottle of Arbor Mist Blackberry Merlot. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”

“Most definitely not,” I teased. “I hope it goes with dinner.” Suddenly the smile disappeared from his face. “Dinner! What time is it?”

 

“About five,” I said, trying to pull him close so I could kiss his neck again.

“I have to make dinner!” he said, trying to push me away, but I had managed to get his arms pinned between us so he didn’t have a lot of leverage.

“No, you don’t.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he said. He was still pushing against me, but not too hard. I kissed his neck, although I had to fight him a little to do it. “I was just so tired. I usually spend a day or two adjusting to the time, but I wanted so much to see you—” His sudden admission that he wanted to see me was completely uncharacteristic for him, and it surprised me enough that I quit fighting him for a moment.

“Really?” I asked, but he didn’t answer me. He pushed me away and stood up, much to my dismay. “Where are you going?” I asked. “Honey, have you been listening at all? I need to start cooking—” “No you don’t,” I said. I stood up and took his hand. “Just sit with me for a minute.”

 

“There’s not time—”

I tried to pull him back over to me, but he resisted. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.” He looked skeptical, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. “Come here,” I said, half-teasing but half-frustrated as I tried again to pull him toward me.
103

“If I don’t start dinner now, we’ll be eating at a ridiculously late hour.”

 

“I don’t care,” I told him, and he stopped trying to pull away and looked at me in surprise.

 

“You don’t want me to cook?” he asked, and he sounded hurt. “It’s not that I don’t want you to cook,” I assured him. “But there’s something else I want more.”