Red Popcorn Strings and Gumball Rings

Chapter 1 December 23rd Casey Curled up on the floor, in front of the crooked Christmas tree, Casey pulled his favorite threadbare blanket tighter around his thin body to chase away the chill. He made sure it covered his feet, too, even though he wore no less than two pairs of socks that his momma had knitted and given to him last Christmas. He refused to think about the fact that these were the last pairs she’d ever give him. His feet were always cold. Two blocks of ice, like his boyfriend Ellis always teased. Even now, when the warm December weather—with unusually high temperatures even for the South—hadn’t cooled down their trailer yet. He couldn’t take his eyes off the tree and its drooping branches. The short needles had already started to fall off even though it was two more days until Christmas. No one in their right mind would call the tree lush or opulent, or even merry. But it was the most beautiful tree he’d ever seen. Before today, he’d never understood what it meant to have stars in one’s eyes. But as he sat there admiring the sparse fir, he finally got it. Casey unwrapped himself from the blanket and scooted closer to the tree. He reached out and touched the needles on a low branch, ever so carefully so he wouldn’t make any more of them spill down on the floor. As he hummed an old Christmas tune—his meemaw’s favorite—he thought back to when Ellis had dragged the sorry-looking tree through their narrow trailer door yesterday. * * * * “Where did you get that?” he asked and tried to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. A Christmas tree! He couldn’t believe it. He jumped up and down with his hands clasped to his chest, making the waist-long tresses of his red hair dance around his body. Bouncing over to his boyfriend, Casey rubbed his smooth cheek against Ellis’s bristly one, before leaning into the tree, closing his eyes, and inhaling its scent. “Oh, wow.” The rich aroma of the deep forest made its way through his entire soul, and his eyes watered. He hadn’t even experienced the smell in years. It wasn’t like he could go up to Christmas trees in public places and inhale their scent. “Thank you,” he choked out and looked at Ellis, who beamed as if Casey had made gold appear from thin air. Ellis explained how he’d found the tree thrown on the ground outside the garage that morning. His boss had ordered him to dispose of it in the trash, but Ellis had begged to be allowed to bring it home. Boss-Man had stared pointedly at the sad-looking tree but shrugged and agreed. They didn’t have any decorations, and it had taken all of Ellis’s ingenuity to even figure out how to make it stand up straight. Casey came up with one harebrained idea after another—like taking a string and tying it to the wall. The more practical Ellis shook his head. “No, boo, that won’t work.” Instead, he leaned the tree against the wall, smacked a loud kiss on Casey’s cheek, and went outside. Casey stared at him through the window like a nosy old lady as Ellis filled a rusty bucket with gravel from their driveway, and when he got back inside, he stuck the tree into it. It was steady enough. If a certain redhead didn’t jump too vigorously around it, shouting Christmas carols at the top of his voice. * * * * Casey had never had a Christmas tree in his life. His parents had been too poor for such frivolous things, but his meemaw used to have one every year before she died. Hers had been very different from Casey’s, decorated with delicate antique ornaments in all colors of the rainbow, and a beautiful angel on top. He’d loved that angel fiercely, with her golden dress, feathery wings, and blonde hair reaching to her waist. When he’d been five, he’d decided to give her a little makeover, and with his meemaw’s favorite bingo marker, he’d dyed her hair bright red. It had looked just like his own. Everyone had been shocked when it was time to finish off the decorations with the angel, but no one had said anything about it. They’d just put it up on top where it belonged, and that was that. When his meemaw had died, his aunt had claimed all the Christmas decorations as her own, and promptly thrown away the angel. Apparently, she’d said it was ruined and belonged in the trash. Casey had been devastated when his momma told him and had cried for a week straight until his eyes had been red and puffy. That redheaded Casey angel would have been perfect on top of their tree. But in lieu of proper ornaments, they’d decorated with string after string of popcorn. Ellis’s smile had turned into a frown when he’d realized they didn’t have anything to put on the tree, but Casey had refused to let a small detail like that discourage him. He’d skipped the few feet to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he’d found a bag of corn kernels. In their largest pot, he’d put a big dollop of butter, and on a whim, added red food dye before pouring in the kernels. The popcorn had turned out surprisingly red, even though a lot of the coloring had stuck to their fingers as they’d strung the popcorn and covered every branch and twig with the strings. The effect had been very cheerful in Casey’s opinion, and judging from the hard kiss Ellis had planted on his mouth when they were done, he agreed. “I love you, tree,” Casey mumbled and kissed the sprig he held in his hand, ignoring the tiny prick of needles on his sensitive lips. “If only I had a gift for Ellis to put under you.” Casey sighed. No matter how much he wanted, he couldn’t afford to buy anything for Ellis. If they were lucky, they would be able to buy some turkey deli meat for their Christmas dinner, but that was about it. They had to make their money last into January, since the library was closed for the holidays, and he worked a lot fewer hours in December. One day he would cook Ellis a big ol’ turkey for Christmas. Casey knew Ellis missed his family’s holiday celebrations, even if he never said anything. He’d always eaten Casey’s momma’s Christmas mac and cheese and smiled his widest smile as if it had been a real feast. Casey’s heart ached when he thought about it. This year they wouldn’t even get the knitted socks. He wiggled his toes and looked down at his feet, adoring the rainbow-colored socks his momma had made them both. He was going to have to be careful with these; he’d never get another pair. He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to let out the burning tears. “I’ll think of something. I always do.” He let go of the tree and jumped to his feet. Time to make dinner for Ellis.