Merry Christmas Patrick - 1. Chapter 1

Frost crystals sparkled in the early morning light as Patrick’s cold sneakers crunched across the frozen field. He shivered under the threadbare parka he’d found at the church hall rummage sale the day after Thanksgiving. It was a good thing he’d been saving his milk money or the dollar fifty might have been spent on more jeans. He kind of wished they’d had some underwear, though. Maybe even some worn boxers might have been worth fifty cents leaving a dollar for something else, but, no, this year there were coats and parkas, jeans and slacks, sweaters and sweatshirts, and purses. Why would someone put purses out at a rummage sale?

He wanted some underwear. Dear Santa, Please give me a package of underwear. Dear Santa, If you really exist, you’d give me some underwear. Dear Santa, I know you’re real busy making toys for little boys and girls, but could you spare some underwear? They didn’t even have to be his size; he had scissors and thread. Was it too much to expect underwear for Christmas?

Rascal, his mother’s mangy lab was over at the rabbit holes snuffling for a little game of fool the dog. The rabbits were better at it than Rascal, but it kept him busy while Patrick waited for the school bus. He hated school, but he was only fifteen and too young to be running away from home. Plus, now wasn’t the time of year to be running anywhere; it was too cold. The only sure place to go would be the Army so he could fight in Viet Nam, but the recruiter would have to be pretty damn gullible to believe a fresh faced fifteen-year-old was actually eighteen. Patrick was stuck where he was.

Just as he reached the top of the stile, he saw the yellow bus turn the corner at the bottom of the hill. He’d have to run, again, to catch the bus, as Mrs. Duncan, the bus driver, did not wait for a running kid. “You be at your stop next time or you walk to school,” she’d tell you the first time she had to wait. You actually didn’t walk to school, though. You walked to the ferry and hoped it came in to take you to the big island so you could walk up the hill to the school, but there was usually a bus waiting for the next ferry to collect all the kids who missed their regular bus. It wasn’t a free ride though. The driver gave you a letter your parents had to sign. Your parents gave you a whupping for missing the school bus. Patrick didn’t know about the other kids, but he got a whupping from his mother.

He took his seat and felt the cold vinyl through the seat of his worn jeans. Maybe he should’ve bought a couple of pairs of jeans with the fifty cents, but he needed a coat, too. He needed underwear more, though. He hated wearing pants without underwear. It didn’t feel normal, especially up front.

“Hey buddy boy, how’s my favorite freshman?” Neil asked as he slipped into the seat next to Patrick.

“I’m a sophomore,” Patrick said as he turned to look out the window. There were twenty-three kids on Diego Island who attended school and the bus had thirty seats, plus the long back seat that held five, if you didn’t mind sitting in the suicide seat. Neil didn’t have to sit next to him, but ever since Patrick started high school, Neil sat beside him. “Why do you keep calling me a freshman?”

“Because, well, you’re fresh,” Neil said. He was a year older, a junior, and queer. Everyone on Diego knew Neil was queer except maybe Neil himself. Neil lived with his aunt, who was some kind of writer who could afford to live on Diego year-round for many years. Why he lived with his aunt and not his parents in Seattle was open to speculation. He was taller than Patrick but slimmer. He was a high jumper and ran the hurdles, too.

Patrick felt Neil’s hand on his thigh. When school started it was on his knee, but as the year progressed, so did Neil’s hand. It was about halfway up Patrick’s thigh. He wondered how far it would get before he had to do something about it. He looked at Neil, at the hand, and then he picked it up and put it on Neil’s leg.

Neil looked at him and smiled.

“Are you coming over to the house tonight?” Neil asked. Patrick turned to look out the window. “Auntie Bess is looking forward to your visit. She said she’ll bake an apple pie.”

Kids in the seats in front of them were glancing back at Patrick. This wasn’t the first time Neil had brought up Auntie Bess inviting him over for supper and an apple pie. This was the last day of school before the holiday break and all the kids on the island were going to be wondering if Patrick ended up in the queer’s clutches.

“I’ve been asking for nearly a month now,” Neil said with a slight whine in his voice. “Don’t you like me?”

All the chatter in the bus stopped. If the engine could’ve quieted down, Patrick was certain it would’ve. He bit his lip because Auntie Bess called his mother the previous afternoon to extend a formal invitation for Patrick to come over for supper. His mother told him to take the offer as they would be having tomato soup and cheese sandwiches, again.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Patrick whispered.

“You will?” Neil said loudly. “Hey, that’s great!”

Patrick looked at the hand on his thigh when he felt the little squeeze. Neil’s hand was higher than ever before and the fingers were hitting nerves that seemed to go straight into Patrick’s crotch. He looked at Neil, who simply smiled.

The whole day at school turned out to be one whisper after another. Patrick would be walking down a hall, turn a corner, and suddenly all voices went soft and eyes darted his way. He’d walk into a classroom and the same thing happened. Even some of the teachers gave him the strangest looks. The clincher came when Coach Wolfe called him into the office after gym.

“I’d like you to do some running while you’re off,” Coach Wolfe said. “The first JV game will be the Monday after we come back and I want you ready to play. Okay?”

“Sure Coach,” Patrick said, smiling. He was only a sophomore, but he was one sick kid away from varsity. A broken limb anywhere on the varsity bench and he’d move up.

“There’s one other thing,” Coach Wolfe said. “Why don’t you close the door and have a seat.”

Patrick knew something big was up. He knew he wasn’t going to get any swats. That was close the door and bend over. Close the door and sit down meant a talking to, but Patrick couldn’t think of anything he’d done to deserve this much attention from the coach. After all, he was only a sophomore.

“Look, son, uh, Patrick, some of the teachers, your teachers have noticed things aren’t going very well this year,” Coach Wolfe said. Charity, that’s what this was about. They’d taken up a collection and he’d have to turn it down. His mother was very insistent about not taking charity from people. It was bad enough they were on assistance, but to have to take money from people in the community, well that was just not done. “They’ve noticed your clothes are getting a little thin in places and, well, I’ve seen you undressing in the locker room. When did you run out of underwear?”

“Sometime after Columbus Day,” Patrick whispered. He’d been careful with the last pair because he couldn’t see getting any new ones. His mother was drinking up all the money, except for rent, utilities, dog food for Rascal, and his milk money. The church brought them food in a box that mysteriously appeared on the back doorstep every few weeks. Rascal didn’t even bark at whoever it was who put it there.

“I hadn’t realized it was that long,” Coach Wolfe said. “We know your mother doesn’t like charity and, well, some of us understand how she feels. At the same time, we need you to pay attention to your studies and I need you paying attention to the up coming basketball season. I don’t want this to get around, but Jerry Wilson might have mono. If he does, you’re moving up. Right?”

“Sure Coach,” Patrick said. He didn’t feel sorry for Jerry, well maybe a little. Jerry was a senior and, while hardly any scouts came to B League games, not being able to play in your senior year erased even the slimmest chance at an athletic scholarship.

“So, we bought you some things,” Coach Wolfe said. He put a grocery sack on the desk. The top was rolled down a little and had been stapled shut. “Think of this as a Christmas present. Okay? It’s a Christmas present from your teachers. It’s not from the school. Okay? Can you do this?”

“Sure Coach,” Patrick said as he looked at the bag and imagined it was full of underwear.

“Oh, and I heard you’re going over to Neil Brown’s house for supper tonight,” Coach Wolfe said. The way he was looking at Patrick made his stomach go queasy. “Neil’s a good boy. He may have had some problems a few years ago, but he’s a good boy. His father and I were in the same outfit during the war, so I’ve know Neil since he was born. Actually, I’m the guilty person who suggested Neil live with his aunt. Personally, she’s a little too weird for me, but that’s just my opinion. Neil’s also a kidder.”

“But everyone thinks he’s, well, you know,” Patrick said, but couldn’t bring himself to say that word after what the coach said.

“Yeah, I know, but a lot of that is Neil not setting things straight,” Coach Wolfe said. “I don’t know how that rumor got started and I strongly suspect Neil might’ve had a hand in that, too. He is a kidder, though. Personally, I don’t think he is, you know.”

“Okay, Coach and thanks for the Christmas present,” Patrick said.

“Oh and here’s a hall pass to get you to your next class,” Coach Wolfe said as he signed the small form. “And, remember to get in some running.”

“Sure Coach, I’ll do that,” Patrick said. He got up and walked out of the gym so relieved he was almost smiling. Neil wasn’t queer. That made going to his house a little easier. Of course, people were going to talk, but they talked about him already. You can’t be the poorest kid in the school district and not get talked about. And he had underwear.

Patrick heard a car horn and looked out the kitchen window. There was a practically new Mustang in the driveway. It had to be either Aunt Bess or Neil, so he checked on his mother. She was gone for the night, her last glass of vodka and water unfinished on the end table next to her chair. Her drinks were easy to make; fill a glass, any glass, half full of vodka and fill the remaining space with water. She drank them all day until she passed out. She was getting worse, too, which meant going to the state hospital on the mainland. He’d end up in some foster home until she was sober, again.

After making sure everything was in order, he went out to the car. Neil was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hi,” Patrick said as he scooted in on the passenger side.

“Hi lover,” Neil said, smiling.

“Coach Wolfe said you’re a kidder,” Patrick said, smiling.

“Uncle Wolfie? He’s a pushover.”

“He’s your uncle?”

“Nah, I just call him that,” Neil said as he backed out the driveway. “He’s about as close to any uncle I have. My dad has a brother down in California, but they don’t speak to each other. I’ve never met him or my cousins.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Patrick said.

“Not really, they wouldn’t like me anyway,” Neil said with an air of sadness. “Do you have any cousins?”

“My Uncle Ralph has two sons. My Aunt Louise and Uncle Bobby have three sons and two daughters. My Aunt Beth and Uncle Dave have one of each. And my Aunt Jane and Uncle Ben have two of each.”

“And, you’re still living with your mother?” Neil asked. He was heading toward the village by the ferry dock.

“She needs me,” Patrick said.

“Uh, huh,” Neil mumbled. “Do you like vanilla ice cream or laminated?”

“Laminated? What’s that flavor?”

“Neapolitan,” Neil said. “My dad calls it that. I’m going home after Christmas. They want me back.”

“Hey, that’s great, right?” Patrick said. He didn’t know why he said that. He didn’t really care for Neil one way or the other. Neil was a junior after all. He’d be off to college when Patrick was a senior so why worry about someone older.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Neil said. “I guess Uncle Wolfie and Auntie Bess have been working on them since I moved up here three years ago.”

“Has it been that long?” Patrick asked as Neil pulled up behind the small grocery in the village. He got out and followed the other boy into the store.

“Three years in exile,” Neil said as he led Patrick back to the freezer.

There wasn’t anyone else in the store. Dick Thompson, a sophomore, was working the cash register for his parents as he did every Friday and Saturday night. Dick was a sprinter, built like Neil, and suspected by quite a few of the islanders to be as queer as Neil. Patrick wondered if being queer was a prerequisite to being on the track squad, especially if track was the only sport you went out for.

He’d known Dick since elementary school and probably before as they’d both been born to parents who lived on Diego. They were natives, something of a rarity these days as more and more of the estates and farms were being subdivided and sold off to mainlanders looking for the peace and quiet of island life.

“Hi, Dick, how’re they hangin’,” Patrick said as he watched the boy ring up the ice cream, whipped cream, powdered sugar, Worcestershire sauce, and a quart of goats milk.

“Not bad, Patrick, not bad at all,” Dick said. “I see you finally gave in to the fag and accepted his offer for a free dinner.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. He stood there for a moment and then walked out to the car. Coach Wolfe said Neil wasn’t queer, but he still didn’t need Dick saying that; plus, the put down about accepting a free meal. The Thompson’s weren’t that well-off, but they did own the two groceries on the island; the one at the ferry dock and the other one at the south end of the island in the smaller village of Orca. Dick was, therefore, a couple notches higher on the social scale than Patrick. Heck, everyone on the island, including Old Man Higgins who was senile as hell and drooled, was a couple notches higher than Patrick.

“Dick’s a certifiable jerk,” Neil said as he slid into the driver’s seat. Pushing the sack of groceries toward Patrick, he said, “Here, hold these.”

“Coach Wolfe said you’re not queer,” Patrick said.

“Uncle Wolfie doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Neil said as he put the car in gear. He glanced over at Patrick and winked. “I’m as queer as a three-dollar bill.”

Patrick swallowed a wad of spit and turned toward the passenger window. It was dark out, but he knew where they were as the car headed toward Neil’s home. His only saving grace was Neil wouldn’t be at school after New Year’s and kids would quickly forget about this night.

He still wondered about the why of it. Why him? Why not some other kid? What did Neil see in him? Where was this night going? Would he give in to Neil’s need for another boy?

No, he wasn’t like Neil. He might be poor as hell, but he wasn’t queer. Yet, why was Neil so interested in him.

He followed Neil into the house. He felt a strong sense of sadness, but he didn’t know the cause. He’d been in this house only once in his life. That was the day Neil came to the island and his mother sent him over to welcome the boy. He was a few months short of twelve, but Neil was closer to thirteen.

Even then Patrick remembered he was nervous around the other boy. There was something strange about him as if he was from another planet or belonged to a different species of human. He did his job and ran for home, but stayed outside with Rascal for a few hours so his mother would think he was making friends with the new boy.

The first thing Patrick noticed was Aunt Bess was not in the house. He was alone with Neil and that made him feel even more nervous.

“I hope you like steaks because that’s about all I can fix,” Neil said. “Aunt Bess already made the salad, the dressing, the baked potatoes are in the oven, and the green beans are ready to be warmed on the stove. All I have to do is get the charcoal going and dinner’ll be ready. You like steak, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick said. “Wh-wh-where’s your aunt?”

“At your house,” Neil said. He went over to the other boy and put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “You can’t imagine how beautiful you are, but I know you’re not like me. It’s a shame, actually, because I could’ve made you very, very happy. You have black, wavy hair and that’s a turn on for me. You have the strangest green eyes. They’re so alluring. You have muscles where I don’t and that excites me like you can’t believe. You see, Patrick, this is all a setup to get you out of your house.”

“Momma!” Patrick screamed and tried to get out of Neil’s grip, but the other boy pulled him into a tight hug. He struggled to get away, but he didn’t struggle as hard as he could. He was going to a foster home, hopefully on the mainland because he’d already been to practically all of them on the islands. He started to weep and Neil pulled him into a tight hug.

“No one has ever told you, but my Aunt Bess is your Aunt Bess, too,” Neil said as he held Patrick against him. “Our mothers are sisters. I didn’t know until a couple weeks before Thanksgiving when I mentioned to Auntie that you weren’t wearing any underwear. She knew it was time for your mother to go back into the hospital, but I had a plan to save you. I’ve been in foster homes, too. I know what it’s like not to have a family that loves you.”

Patrick pulled out of Neil’s embrace and went over to the dinette where he sat on the bench seat. Neil came over and sat beside his cousin.

“But, you see, my family loves me, again,” Neil said. He took Patrick’s hand in his and pulled it to his mouth. He kissed it and then put his arm around the younger boy. “I had a friend four years ago. Well, I thought he was a friend. He used me and I thought we were in love. My parents overreacted and I was put in a foster home because they couldn’t deal with a queer son. I’ve been in a lot of counseling and Auntie has been a help, too. I didn’t know you were related to me. Obviously, you didn’t know either. I guess our mothers don’t talk to each other very much.”

“What happens now?” Patrick asked. His mind was reeling with the realization that he’d probably not see his mother for at least a year, maybe more. The separations were lengthening. He might not see her until he graduated from high school. He began to weep. He didn’t want to cry and was doing everything he could think of not to, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Well, according to Auntie, you’ve got two choices,” Neil said as he tried to comfort Patrick. “You can come with me to Seattle and live at my parents’ house or you can go into the system, again, and take your chances on getting placed in a good foster home.”

“I’m not queer,” Patrick said, surprised he could say that word so easily.

“I know and I won’t do anything to impose myself on you,” Neil said. “I hope you don’t think this has anything to do with sex because it doesn’t.”

“No, I understand what you’re trying to do,” Patrick said, feeling the warmth of his cousin’s body against his. “And it’s helping a lot. I knew she was getting worse, but I wanted to delay the inevitable. I knew I’d have to call Social Services, but I thought I could manage her this time, but everything snowballed after school started. Are your parents nice?”

“Yeah, for parents, they’re pretty good,” Neil said, “but I haven’t seen them in three years, so I can’t be certain. I expect it’ll be difficult for a few weeks as they get used to me, again, and you being there, too.

“I guess you’re the odd one out in this deal. Everyone knew you were having trouble, but no one in the family wanted to do anything to help. They expected your mother to do what she needed to do. It’s a shame your father was killed in Korea, he might’ve made your life a little easier.”

Patrick sat there at the dinette in his new found cousin’s arms and wondered about his future. He was going with Neil that was certain. Anything was better than another foster home; and, well Neil was kind of nice, for a queer. Plus, he wasn’t that bad looking, either. Patrick could almost imagine kissing him, but they were first cousins and that wasn’t allowed.

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