Christmas Coda #44
From NIGHTWATCH (Parker and Henry):
“I don’t do Christmas,” Parker said.
“Really?” Henry had answered. “I do.”
That’s where they were by then. This was the emotional odyssey from April to December.
Anyway, it wasn’t even completely true. Once upon a time Parker had done Christmas. He’d had a friendly, affectionate relationship with the holidays, even if he hadn’t always given them a lot of time and attention. That was another lifetime. Remembering how hard he’d worked to make up all those missed Christmases for Ricky… Honestly? Now days the idea of the holidays turned his heart cold.
At first Henry had tiptoed around Parker’s…call them sensitivities. Because he definitely had his weak spots, blind spots, sore spots. He knew it, and he did try to push past them. He appreciated the fact that Henry did not dole out kindness in measured doses. Henry was not a scorekeeper. Nor did he sweat the small stuff. He was a guy who had his priorities straight. Maybe that came from being a cop. Maybe that came from losing the love of your life.
Also Henry had a built-in bullshit detector like nobody else. Sure as hell unlike Parker who, as everyone knew, was one of the biggest suckers in town. Or he had been until he stopped believing in true love and Santa Clause.
But that wasn’t true either. He did believe in true love. He just knew it wasn’t for him.
Except sometimes when he was with Henry he thought maybe it was.
Maybe there was an element of guilt to Parker’s turning into the Boyfriend from Hell. He’d been working all autumn on an exposé of the investigation of the investigation of the investigation into the death of Police Officer Tori Sykes, and he knew Henry was taking a lot of heat from the, well, heat. He never asked Parker to cool it, never asked him to back off. The only thing he’d ever said was, “Are you absolutely sure of your facts?”
Reasonable enough, except Parker was a fanatic about his facts. Sometimes he felt like his facts were all he had left. He’d blown up. That was the first real argument they’d had.
It was not the last.
Once they crossed that line–the line of arguing about one thing when they were really pissed-off about something else–it was hard to go back.
But at least with Henry, Parker always knew where he was. And there was something liberating about being able to yell openly and loudly, and be yelled at back, and know he wasn’t going to be stabbed for it.
They weren’t moving closer, but at least he knew Henry wasn’t going to kill him when they broke up. Which they clearly were going to do.
Over Christmas.
“Okay,” Henry had said, “I’d like to have Christmas with you, but if you’ve got other plans, so be it.” He’d already assured Parker all he had to do was show up, and Parker had already declined to make the effort, so no wonder Henry sounded like suit yourself, asshole.
He’d tried very hard to make it work. And Parker, who probably wanted, needed it to work more than Henry, had barely tried at all.
So Henry spent Christmas with Jared’s family and Parker spent Christmas at home working, and pretending it was like any other day.
But it was not any other day. It was the day he had finally managed to push Henry away. And for the first hour or so after he woke up with no Henry in his bed–and no word from Henry as to the next time they might see each other–he was relieved.
Thank God. The pressure was off. At last.
The truth was this had been destined from the first. Parker was damaged goods and Henry was just too damned nice. So. Big Relief. Merry Fucking Christmas.
Except it didn’t feel like relief. In fact, he felt sick with disappointment. Like he’d applied for a job on the New Yorker, got it, and then hadn’t had the nerve to pick up the phone and accept the position. What was that about? He had never been like this before Ricky. He hated this frightened, angry guy that he’d become. But he didn’t know how to stop. And if he couldn’t stop for Henry, then it was safe to assume this was who he was now.
By lunchtime–which Henry would be having with his late partner’s family, who would no doubt be encouraging him to dump this neurotic, unappreciative, loser journalist he’d saddled himself with–Parker was questioning his fatalistic acceptance that his relationship with Henry had always been doomed. Parker had worked his butt off to make things work with Ricky. Couldn’t he have at least tried a little for Henry? Given that, unlike Ricky, Henry would have met him halfway. Hell, Henry would have met him on the welcome mat, if he’d ever made any kind of real effort.
It was confusing because he really liked Henry. Everything with Henry had been so…good. When he had let it be. So easy, so right. Too easy. Too right. He couldn’t trust it. It terrified him. He always felt compelled to fuck it up. Not consciously. But really that made it worse. As if he just couldn’t help being a total shit to this very kind, very nice, very decent guy who was trying and trying to have a normal relationship with him.
There was no law that said, having messed everything up, he couldn’t try to fix the situation, right?
If it just hadn’t been for that note of finality in Henry’s voice when he’d said so be it. Like he was delivering the verdict in a trial that had dragged on for months. Which…was probably exactly how it felt to Henry.
Maybe Henry was feeling relief today too. Only in his case, genuine relief.
Henry had mentioned that Jared’s family had their Christmas dinner around two, so Parker figured Henry should be safely home by seven. He tried phoning Henry at seven thirty.
His call went straight to message.
“Hi, Henry,” Parker said to the machine. “I just want–wondered–hoped.” Well, that pretty much covered all of it, and with embarrassing frankness. He pulled himself together and said, “I forgot to tell you Merry Christmas. And I…miss you.”
The minutes passed.
Very long minutes.
When Henry was working, he didn’t always call Parker back immediately. It was possible he was still at his in-laws. It was possible he’d been called out to a crime scene. It was possible he couldn’t hear his phone ringing over the fantastic time he was having wherever he was. It was very unlikely that Henry was sitting at home listening to that message and deciding whether he was going to call Parker back or not.
But as the minutes ticked by, Parker felt more and more convinced that was exactly what was happening. Henry was trying to decide if he was going to give Parker one final chance.
And with each minute that passed, the odds were mounting against Parker.
