Twelve Days (6 page)

“The company promised another five of these and a printer,” Brian mumbled while staring at the screen.

Jamie, however, was watching Brian. He liked the way the light-brown hair kinked a little at the ends, even though it was obvious Brian tried to cut off any hint of curl to keep his hair “neat.” To Jamie it was all too easy to imagine twining it around his fingers to find the curl again. The Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

computer screen reflected brightly in Brian’s hazel eyes and Jamie watched what looked like soft lips mouthing silently as Brian tried to make sense of a new instruction.

“Do you get what that means?” he asked and turned to look at Jamie.

“I um… not sure,” Jamie stammered, aware that he’d been caught staring. He quickly averted his gaze to the screen and read the instruction before typing in some numbers from the CD case and hitting enter. Brian laughed and bumped against Jamie when a software home screen lit up. An innocent, playful touch, but it still managed to create an instant rush of heat in Jamie’s belly.

They scrolled through a few more screens until Jamie felt he could ask a very “casual” question. “So Brian, ah, what do you do when you’re not here?”

Brian frowned, not quite sure how that was relevant to the task at hand. “What d’you mean?”

“Do you have a boyfriend… or girlfriend?” Jamie spelled out, deciding subtlety wasn’t an option.

Brian blinked, and although he shook his head, he was smiling. “No, I don’t.”

“Good,” Jamie stated and made sure their thighs touched when he leaned forward again to look at the screen.

THE little brown paper bag was scrunched and crumpled where Jamie had rolled it over for a third time. He sat in the battered leather chair next to David and tried to decide whether or not to wake him. He looked at the lunch bag and Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

was about to open it again when he finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t hungry. And besides, it never felt right eating his half of the sandwich without David.

“Let him sleep, lad.”

Jamie nodded when he heard the quiet voice and stood up next to John. He lifted the sketchbook and pencil from the floor and placed them carefully next to the sandwich bag on the chair.

“Today’s picture is upstairs, but I don’t think there’s going to be one tomorrow,” John said softly, so as not to wake his sleeping lover.

Jamie looked at the upturned blank page and said, “That’s okay, I’m sure the kids will be happy making paper chains or something.”

John’s hand rubbed over Jamie’s shoulder in a silent thank-you for his understanding.

Two Days…

JOHN was right. Although there was no picture from David, John watched his young friend rally the toddler troops and soon there was a mass of little bodies strewn over the floor wielding bright crayons. Pictures for David, he’d told them, and although some drew careful scenes from books they’d read, the tiniest of fingers only managed what looked like an explosion of color even though they informed Jamie it was actually Santa Claus.

Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

Parents helped to write the name and age of each before they papered the picture wall until not a space remained bare.

“Pity he’s not here to see this,” John said while they watched parents line the children in front of the gallery for a last-minute Christmas photo.

“It’ll be here when he can come down again.”

Christmas Eve…

JOHN stood at the bedroom door. The curtains were drawn against the still-bright light of the summer evening so the room held the dim hue of the fabric. David had been up briefly, but hadn’t ventured down to Margins at all during the day and quickly returned to his bed. The figure in the bed stirred slightly although he still kept his back to the door. John moved quietly toward the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle it too much. “I’m going down to the shelter now if you want to come?” he said softly.

“Barbara just called to ask me if I could drop by the market on the way because a few of the stallholders are donating boxes of vegetables. Jamie’s coming, but I know we could do with an extra pair of hands.”

David lay with his eyes open, staring at the wall across the room, wishing there was some way he could make himself get out of bed to help. “I’m sorry, John.”

John’s chest ached for his lover, but he simply leaned forward, kissed the sheet-covered shoulder and said, “It’s Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

okay, Dave, we’ll manage.” He stood and walked back to the door, then hesitated for a moment. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” David responded as little more than a whisper.

John almost accepted that, then decided he needed to push it. “Answer the phone when I call so I know you’re alright, David. Please.”

David didn’t move, but mustered the energy to reply clearly, “I’ll answer it.”

John left the bedroom door open and walked through the silent apartment and down to his car, all the while fighting the urge to stay in the bedroom with David.

By the time he’d arrived at Jamie’s place the young man was already outside, waiting for him with a new shirt on and arms dragged down with heavy bags. John leaned across from the driver’s side and pushed the door open for him.

With a theatrical huff Jamie dumped the bags on the passenger side floor, maneuvered his long legs around them and flopped into the seat. John grinned and couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “You’re not tired already, are you?

Because I’m sure you can give tonight a miss and watch some TV instead.”

“No,” Jamie said, a little too quickly. “I, um, well, Barbara said she always gets lots of volunteers for Christmas day, but not….” That was as far as Jamie got when he realized John was making fun of him.

John laughed at Jamie’s pissed-off expression because, although he knew Jamie had a generous heart and wanted to help, John also knew he was eager to see a certain young counselor again.

Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

“That obvious, am I?” Jamie said with a hint of an embarrassed smile.

“Just a bit,” John countered while reversing out of the parking space.

“Yeah, well,” Jamie mumbled. “Maybe I want someone in my life too. Like you and David.”

John rarely shared his feelings, but he reached across and gave his friend’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Jamie knew that was a big gesture from John, and smiled at him. He tried hard not to let the smile falter when he asked the question that’d been begging since the car pulled up. “Davey not coming tonight?

“Not tonight,” John answered with his eyes firmly on the road.

“Should we stay with him?”

“He needs to work these things out himself, lad,” John said with a confidence he wished he felt.

THE shelter was already a hive of activity when they arrived with a car full of boxes and smelling of fresh mangos. John organized a couple of the men to help him carry in the donated and very welcome boxes of fruit and vegetables, while Jamie scurried off to the kitchen with his bags.

Barbara waved, but John noticed her quick glance over his shoulder and shook his head. She didn’t ask and said instead, “The stallholders were generous this year; this is the second carload tonight. Jacqui and her kids arrived with fresh bread and sweet treats that we decided wouldn’t keep Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

until morning, so Brian headed out in the van to distribute them to the kids who don’t make it here too often.”

John knew exactly the ones she meant, and couldn’t suppress a twinge of guilt that for years he’d barely noticed the growing number of teenagers who bedded down under the rail bridges, except to grumble at the “unsightliness” of it. He glanced toward the kitchen, only to see Jamie emerge with a look of obvious disappointment marring his features.

“Do you think I should put Jamie out of his misery and tell him Brian will be back soon?”

“Don’t tease, John,” Barbara said with good humor while she watched Jamie’s approach. “I think they’ll make a good couple if Brian ever realizes he can have a life outside of work. Sound like someone you know?”

“Ouch, but duly noted.” John laughed at her deserved dig and hushed as soon as Jamie reached them.

Jamie eyed him with some suspicion, but quickly shrugged it off and said, “I picked up the extra Christmas puddings and put them in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, honey. I’ve always got a fear that we won’t have enough and someone will miss out. I think we’ll have more than enough, but it’s been a rough year and I’d rather have too much than too little.” Barbara shot John a quick warning look before she added, “Brian will be back soon, and it would be great if you could help him go over the roster of volunteers for tomorrow, okay?”

Jamie could never hide his feelings and John was forced to stifle a grin at the instant joy on his face.

Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

DAVID dozed. The room was still warm despite the night breeze that wafted through the open window and lifted the edge of the curtain. He’d drifted in and out of sleep since John had left for the shelter, never quite waking enough to have to face his thoughts. He was just emerging from another fitful dream when the phone on his nightstand sprang to life. David blinked at it a few times before he remembered his promise to John. He grabbed at the phone and mumbled, “I’m okay.”

There was silence at the other end then a hesitant voice.

“Dad?”

David froze.

“Dad, it’s Adam, um, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, just listen, please.” There was no answer, but the call remained connected, so Adam continued, “I was talking to John a few days back about Christmas, and I said how I wanted to come round and see you Christmas Day.

Then Mum and her fuckwit partner decided we’re going to Grandma’s place and then playing happy families with his ex and her kids. I mean, I want to see Grandma, but the rest is total bullshit.” Adam stopped and drew a breath; he knew he was rambling but needed to get it all said as fast as possible in case his father hung up. “Anyway, it means I can’t sneak off and see you, and if I tell Mum I want to spend the day with you she will chuck a fit. So then I remembered something…. You still there, Dad?”

David clutched the phone and asked, “What did you remember?”

“I remembered what we did at Christmas,” Adam replied with renewed enthusiasm. “When I was little and it was just Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

you and me on Christmas Eve. Do you remember? Well, I decided that’s where I’m going tonight. I’m at the tram stop now.… Please meet me there, Dad. I’ll look for you.”

The voice stopped and David sat very still on the bed.

The lethargy of sleep and the warm summer night had been replaced with a mix of emotions David struggled to untangle.

THE kitchen bustled with organized chaos; the sinks were manned with helpers washing and peeling vegetables, while the benches were covered with assorted crockery, pots, pans, and Christmas crackers. When a couple more volunteers arrived with freshly ironed tablecloths, Barbara laughed and said happily, “Find a space wherever you can.”

“Good turnout,” John said as he took the cloths from the bewildered helpers.

“One thing I’ve learned about people from doing this job,” Barbara said and signaled for John to follow her through to her office, “is that the less they have, the more they’re willing to give.” She smiled and cleared a space on her desk to pile up the fresh linen.

John nodded, but didn’t return her smile.

“No word from him?” she asked.

John pulled out his phone and frowned. “I got a call from Adam earlier saying he’d rung David and asked him to meet him at the windows.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know.” John took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I rang him a couple of times and got no answer, so Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan

I’m hoping the daft bugger forgot his phone and went to meet his son.”

Barbara slipped her arm in his and said, “I hope so too, John.”

BOURKE STREET was already filled with proud parents and excited children by the time Adam alighted from the tram.

He stood in the middle of the pedestrian mall while another tram rattled past, then walked toward the “windows.” He wasn’t sure how long it would take his dad to get there, but he had no doubt he
would
turn up.

Adam glanced at the windows without going over to them, keeping that for when his dad arrived and instead found a perch on the edge of a concrete planter to watch the passing of human traffic. It’d been years since he’d been to the Christmas display and regretted all the times he’d scoffed and belittled his dad for suggesting it, pointing out that he was no longer a kid. “Guess I’m still a kid,” Adam muttered to himself and checked the time on his phone.

THE crowds thinned out as young eyes became heavy and parents convinced sleepy children they needed to be home and tucked up in their beds before Santa arrived. Adam shifted uncomfortably on the concrete; he’d been sitting there a long time and numbness had spread through his thighs and down his legs. He checked his phone again and jumped down from the planter, wincing as he stamped his Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan