Free Second Chances by T. A. Webb Page A

favorite traditions was a double feature of A Charlie Brown Christmas special and How the Grinch Stole Christmas! .
    Mom had started that tradition. She’d fix us hot chocolate and we’d all sit and watch them every time they came on. I think I had both shows memorized by the time I was ten. Mom started buying me everything Grinch. I still had all of it in a box in my closet.
    We each had a glass of wine and were cuddled up. For warmth. It was cold outside. And the blanket went further when we sat together.
    “So you going to tell me what he said to you?” he asked. Linus was reciting what Christmas was all about.
    “And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people.’”
    I considered bluffing. But he knew Sam and he knew something had passed between the two of us. And we were done lying and telling half-truths and pretending.
    “He called us filthy fucking faggots one too many times. I called him a redneck wife-beating drunk for the first time. And I might have threatened to call CPS. And tell Dad. And kick his ass,” I admitted.
    “Good. I never said anything, but he came up to me at your mom’s funeral and had some choice words for me. He doesn’t matter so I never made a big deal out of it.” He held my hand and rubbed circles on my palm. “But I love you for sticking up for me.”
    I was torn between anger and shock. The anger won out. Then I was so mad I almost couldn’t get a good breath.
    “What did he say?” I ground out.
    “It doesn’t—”
    “Don’t. What did he fucking say?”
    A long moment went by. He stared at my hand while he rubbed it, deciding.
    “He said if I ever cared a thing about your momma I’d get, and I quote, my fruity goddamn ass the fuck out of there and quit soiling the memory of his mother. Unquote. Oh, and he said it was a shame it wasn’t me or you laid up in the casket instead of her. He also said something nice and hateful about how he hoped I got AIDS when I cheated on you, but that since we were fags I probably already had it since I let anything with a dick fuck me. He hoped you got it and died too,” he admitted quietly.
    “Well, just fuck him. No, fuck him twice and the mother fucking horse he rode in on and—”
    I’d just gotten good and riled up when I felt Brian lay his head on my chest and put his arms around my stomach and just hug me, making shushing noises. I saw red, for God’s sake, and the red I saw, I wanted it to be my brother’s blood.
    That, more than anything, brought me up short and back to myself. I wasn’t a violent man. I stood there and took my lumps like a man and never hit anyone in anger, man or woman. And yeah, sometimes women deserved it just like a man did when they threw hate in your face. But I never went there. I just took it and swallowed it down and sweat it out like the poison it was.
    I thought about it this time. I thought about it really hard.
    “It’s okay, babe. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before. And nothing we won’t hear again. Maybe someday it won’t be like that, but he doesn’t matter,” he kept saying. He kept it up and said anything that came to his mind as he talked me right down off the ledge.
    “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn king! Peace on Earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.”

Chapter 8

     
    March 2003
    I SAT in the middle of Chuck E. Cheese’s and wondered what in the hell I was doing there. Around me, there must have been six thousand screaming kids all between six and twelve, all wanting to play with the same damn toys. Pizza, Coke (in the South we call all soda “Coke,” deal with it) and birthday cake just served to energize all of them.
    It was Jason’s eleventh birthday and he demanded that his dad’s best friend come too. When I