Chapter 8-1
490 Words
Chapter 8
Tuesday and Wednesday—the latter being Christmas Eve—flew by. We spent our time walking, talking, eating, sleeping, and cuddling. If it were possible, my love for Mark just grew and grew. More than once during those two days I found my mouth opening with the words ‘I love you,’ on the tip of my tongue. I always managed to stop myself just at the last second though. Imagine if Mark couldn’t say the words back. That would certainly be the ideal recipe for a miserable Christmas. I knew I was facing a frustrating holiday, due to my reluctance…my fear…to be open and honest with Mark, but it would be off-set—in part—by ensuring Mark got a happy one. The last two he had faced hadn’t been pleasant affairs. There was no way I was going to ruin this one for him.
Maybe I could tell him how I felt sometime in the New Year, if the right circumstances came up. I knew this was procrastination on my part. However, all my private sufferings would be worth it to see his happy, smiling face.
At about 6 o’clock on Christmas Eve the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Simon,” Mary said. “Mum and Dad are going to Midnight Mass at St John’s. They were wondering if you and Mark would like to come along. We can pick you up and bring you back again.”
“Erm. I don’t know. Hang on a tick, I’ll ask Mark.” I turned to him and related what Mary had said.
“I’m not much of a churchgoer, but yes…yes I think I’d like to go if you would.”
“Mary,” I said into the phone, “we’d love to come.”
“Great. We’ll pick you up about ten-thirty.”
“We’ll be ready. And say thanks to your parents from us, will you?”
“Sure, see you later. Bye.”
I hung up. “You sure you’re all right about it?” I asked Mark.
He nodded. “It’ll be nice to get back to the real meaning of Christmas. I like all the shopping and everything, but it’s too easy to forget what it’s really all about.”
“Wow, that’s deep.”
“Sorry,” Mark laughed.
* * * *
The time drew near for Mary’s parents to pick us up. Mark and I had gotten dressed in warm—but smart—clothing. Neither of us wore a tie. I had several, but as Mark didn’t, I thought it’d be inappropriate for me to put one on.
Buttoning up Mark’s coat, I said, “You never know how well those places are heated.” I laughed apologetically. “Sorry, I must sound like your mother.” Then I realised what I’d said. “Oh, no! Sorry, Mark. What an insensitive thing to say.”
“It’s fine.” He smiled. “In some very cute ways you act a bit like mum did. I like it.”
I wasn’t convinced.
“Simon, it’s fine, honestly.” He touched my cheek with his bandaged hand.
“I know I get a bit carried away with myself sometimes. Just give me a smack up the side of the head when it gets too much.”
Mark laughed. “Well, any smacking will have to wait till these come off.” He moved his bandaged hands higher.
“s**t, have I done it again?”
“No, no, not at all.” He closed the distance between us and gave me a reassuring hug.
A few minutes later a car horn sounded. Looking out of the window I saw that it was Mary and her parents.
- Writer
