Chapter 13

Jakob

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

Santa’s booming voice echoed throughout the store, but that might have been my imagination. The elves didn’t make a fuss when we reached the front of the line. I got the distinct impression they didn’t care who was in line for Santa because they got paid regardless. Fair enough.

“Go on, love.”

Papa gently pushed me forward, and I walked toward Santa.

“Hello there. Come sit next to me and tell me what you want for Christmas.”

Santa patted the settee next to him as I approached with reluctant feet. “C’mon, it’s okay. Has it been a while since you’ve come to see me?”

His kind eyes crinkled at the edges, and his beard looked so realistic you’d think it was his real hair.

“This is my first time visiting Santa. My Papa—I mean, my friend—thought I should do it at least once.”

Ugh, I wanted to kick myself for my slip-up.

“Is your Papa the handsome man smiling at us?”

Oh, I guess he had heard me. I nodded mutely.

“Well, he looks happy to be your Papa. Is he nice to you?”

I nodded emphatically. “My Papa is the best Papa. We do fun things together.”

“That’s sweet of him.”

Again, I nodded. “So tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“I don’t know if you can help me. Well, you maybe can help me with one, but I don’t think so for the other.”

I knew exactly what I would ask for when I got in line, but now that I was faced with saying it, I realized how silly it was.

“If you tell me what it is, I’ll tell you if I can help,”

Santa said gently.

I huffed out a breath before I answered. “I want to keep my Papa forever and a stuffie.”

It sounded silly when I said it out loud, but those were what I wanted most in the world. If Papa were to fall in love with me, that would be the most wonderful thing ever. He was smart, funny, gave great blowjobs, was a good kisser, and was the kindest man I’d ever met. As for the stuffie, I couldn’t remember ever having one. Every year at Christmas and on my birthday, I’d wish for something that had nothing to do with expanding my mind or school. It wouldn’t have mattered what it was so long as it was something, anything fun. It never happened. If I told myself it didn’t matter enough, maybe I could convince myself it was true.

Now, almost everything I’d wanted was so close. I knew I was gay without having sex, and I knew I was a little, even though I’d never fully regressed. I should have put that on my life list too. After my quick trip down the rabbit hole, I saw Reed watching me. He seemed so happy and proud, and my chest puffed out slightly. My Papa may not love me yet, but he did like me, which surely meant we were headed in the right direction.

“Well, young man, I can’t promise the keeping, but I’d say it looks pretty good. As for the stuffie, I see one in your future.”

When he said it, he looked at Papa, and a grin crossed his face. I didn’t know Santa was so sneaky. Honestly, I was a little surprised.

“Now, let’s smile for the elves, and they’ll get our picture.”

Santa chortled. I settled next to him, but before the camera elf could snap the picture, Santa raised his hand and gestured for Papa to join us. “C’mon over here and join us for the picture.”

“Jakob, is that okay with you?”

Papa asked.

“Of course it is.”

He came to stand beside me, but Santa shook his head in suspiciously exaggerated sadness. “Is something wrong?”

I asked him.

“The camera will cut off your Papa’s head,”

Santa said. Reed’s eyebrows shot up at the description.

“It’s okay, Papa. Santa knows who you are.”

“That’s right, I do. So, hop up, young man, and let your Papa sit down, and then you can sit on his lap. We’ll all get in the picture.”

Santa’s grin was devilish. He knew exactly what he was doing. Sneaky, sneaky. He was good people.

Papa insisted on buying the big picture from the elves. He said he wanted to see it in his office without squinting, which was silly because he already wore contacts. He also brought the world’s ugliest frame to put it in. I told Papa that wasn’t needed, but he said to hush because we looked too good for a boring frame. His argument made no sense, but I felt too happy to fuss with him.

“Now that we have our picture with Santa, do you want to check out the store?”

Papa hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat and asking, “Do you have any toys at all? When I looked around your room while getting your pajamas, I didn’t see any.”

Well, this was about to turn awkward. “Well, not exactly. Sometimes, I would sneak things out of the kitchen for when I took a bath, but anything beyond that, no. I ordered my pajamas while I was at the hotel, but I didn’t order any toys because I wanted them to be in a place where I was settled.”

While I spoke, I kept my eyes down and my voice quiet. He probably wondered if I was even little or just some random guy who moved into people’s homes.

“Then we have lots of aisles to check out, and there are only so many hours in the day.”

Maybe I’d been to a toy store before, but if I had, I didn’t remember the experience. At best, I’d stopped at the toy section of a big-box store, but that hardly counted. I’d racked my memory the other day and tried to remember a frivolous present. I’d finally remembered I’d been given a chess set. It might be a smart-people game, but I kinda sorta hated it. I remembered my brothers had liked it, though, and they played. The thought of my brothers playing chess at the dining room table while I worked on my coursework sent a wave of sadness through me. This would not do. Today, I was supposed to be happy, and I was going to stay that way even if it killed me.

“Then let’s go, Papa. Where should we start?”

“Downstairs first?”

Reed took my hand in his, and an avalanche of tingles went straight up my arm, landing squarely in my tummy. With my nod, we started off to look at all the things. We went through the tiny plastic building pieces, trucks, and trains. They were fine but didn’t grab my attention. But I liked a few of the barn animals, so Papa put those in the basket along with plastic fencing. The hard plastic dolls that posed were better, but they didn’t stir me. That all changed when we came to the baby doll section. I was entranced. They had all kinds of babies, big and little, cloth and rigid bodies, but I was instantly in love with all of them. Papa didn’t rush me at all. I stopped and looked at all of them.

“Love, why don’t you pick one or five to come home with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know how I could pick one. They’re all so pretty.”

“Why don’t you pick a few that you like?”

“I can?”

“Yes, you absolutely can.”

It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, maybe even worse than when I had to defend my dissertation to get my PhD, but I managed to narrow it down to two soft dolls. One boy, one girl. Papa said they must be twins. I could never separate the family, so they both got to come home with me. Papa offered to carry them for me, but I wanted to do that since they were my toys.

Once we finished downstairs, we took the escalator to the upper level. The pen aisle sent my heart racing. They had so many coloring books, crayons, colored pencils, and flair pens, and they were all laid out like Christmas had already come and gone. Papa just laughed as I came close to hyperventilating with the choices in front of me. He grabbed a basket for me to carry and said I needed to load up with anything I wanted.

“Papa, I can’t take everything I want. There won’t be room in the car for us.”

I giggled, and he tousled my hair.

“I think it’s worth the risk. Worst case, we’ll tie them all to the roof.”

“There’s too much stuff.”

This felt like an excellent point to make.

“Oh, you’re right. We’ll tie you up there instead. Good thinking, love.”

Papa laughed when I swatted at him but danced away to grab a package of glitter gel pens to toss in the basket. “Don’t forget you’ll need something to use all these supplies on.”

We wandered over to the bound paper section, where there were even more choices for coloring books, journals, art books, and stationery. I intended to pick one or two, but Papa picked out five more.

The last section upstairs was arts and crafts. It had everything. There were paint-by-numbers, friendship bracelet kits, rock-decorating books, scrapbook supplies, and my personal favorite: the DIY Christmas ornaments. Some had melting beads, others involved gluing popsicle sticks together and decorating them with pens or paint, and there was more glitter than I knew what to do with. I had trouble wrapping my mind around all the options.

“How am I ’sposed to choose, Papa? I can’t bring home everything.”

I stood in the aisle with one hand balled into a fist at my waist and my other arm clutching my babies.

“Ack, you caught me. I was about to say it, but how about five? You can pick five, and we’ll come back for more when you’re done with them.”

That seemed reasonable, so I picked out twenty and narrowed it down from there because there was no way I could decide outright. Since it was the holidays, I picked out holiday kits because I had a secret plan to make Papa a present I thought he might like. He seemed like the kind of guy who liked homemade presents. I hoped so, anyway.

The only problem during all of this was my brain felt like it was about to explode with all the choices, options, and decisions I’d been making today. The more we stayed at the toy store, the more anxious and out of sorts I felt. So, by the time Papa suggested we look at stuffies, as much as I desperately wanted one, there was no way I could do it without screaming, and, honestly, I was close to it anyway. My future stuffie would stay on the shelf for now because it was all too much. Papa insisted on paying and, honestly, in my eagerness to get out of the store, there was no attempt to argue with him about it.

Whatever I felt, it was rumbling around my chest, and I didn’t like it. Not. One. Bit.

#

“Such a handsome couple.”

Oh, that’s an extra-friendly way to greet your customers. Being included wasn’t enough to mollify me. The server at the restaurant Papa chose was flirty, and I imagined he was working for a good tip. I knew that, but the part of me that was jealous and petty rolled out, and I desperately wanted to keep that ugly trait as hidden as possible. I stayed silent and crossed my fingers that my impression of being fascinated by the menu was effective. I was curt and rude when the server returned with our drink order. It wasn’t a good look.

“Thank you,”

Papa said, looking at me sidelong. “From both of us.”

The server smiled, poised a pencil over their pad, and glanced between us.

“Have you decided on what you’re getting?”

I was still stubbornly not speaking.

“Not quite yet. Can you give us a few more minutes?”

Papa said with a pointed look at me.

“Of course, take your time. I’ll check back in a few minutes.”

Papa waited until the server was out of earshot before turning to me. His eyes bore into me, but neither of us spoke. What was there to say? I already knew I was being ridiculous, and he did too.

“What was that about?”

“He was too friendly.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

Papa’s voice was kind but firm. There wouldn’t be any weaseling out of the conversation, but there was no reason my humiliation couldn’t be delayed.

“He was smiling and laughing and being nice.”

“Yes, that’s what people who work in the service industry do.”

Papa’s voice was still stern, but he seemed to know something he wasn’t ready to share with me. And that made me grumpier.

Mostly, I was mad at myself for ruining such a wonderful day with my pouting. I couldn’t even tell him what I was pouting about because I already knew the server was doing his job, and I was being a jerk. I didn’t understand why I was being one, so I couldn’t explain it, which made me grumpiest of all.

“I’m not hungry. Could we go?”

Naturally, my stomach decided that was the moment to make its objection known.

“Unfortunately, I am hungry. And that rumble in your tummy tells me you’re doing a little fibbing.”

I jerked my chin up without giving him a response. “That’s all right, love, there’s no need to answer. However, what’s not going to be allowed is for you to take out your frustration on the person trying to do their job.”

His words sent a wave of shame crashing over me. “I’ll order for you since you’re having trouble today. We’ll get dessert to-go because I’m not leaving without their snickerdoodle cake, and then we can head home.”

“That sounds like a good plan, Papa.”

I gave him a sheepish look that he returned with a knowing expression. Papa quickly looked at the menu before he snapped it closed and laid it on the table. The server must have kept a close eye on us because he came over immediately.

“Have you decided what you’d like?”

“We have. He’ll have the grilled brie with caramelized onions and fried pears on the side. I’ll have the grilled salmon and steamed vegetables with butter.”

“Fantastic. Anything else?”

“Can we order a slice of snickerdoodle cake and…”

Papa turned to me before adding, “chocolate chip pie to go?”

I nodded because it was pie and forced myself to smile at the server. He grinned back, so I felt even more embarrassed over my previous reaction.

“Good choice. It’s my absolute favorite, but warm it up before you eat it so the chocolate chips melt a little.”

With a snap of his pen, he hurried off to turn in our order. Papa observed our interaction quietly, and I squirmed under his unwavering gaze.

“What?”

I asked in a nasty tone. What the hell was wrong with me? Even I couldn’t understand my determination to ruin what had been, until now, a day I’d dreamed about.

“It’s nothing to talk about here.”

The server quickly refreshed our drinks and slipped away. The tension was one-sided at our table. At least outwardly, Papa sat serene and calm, while my mind felt like a battered boat hitting the docks in a storm that no one but me could see. Since no one else observed it, my explanation would seem inadequate.

That was the crux of it. I felt inadequate. As best I could tell, Papa wasn’t interested in my insights into bioinformatics and computational biology so he must have other reasons for keeping me around. But did he, or had I barged in and made myself at home in his life? After being so nice to me at the stores, I repaid him by being a jerk to someone doing their job. The keeping part was likely up for debate.

Our food arrived, and it was delicious. Papa chatted about everyday things, but none required much participation from me. He told me about his twin, Cap, and growing up on Almstead Island in the middle of the Sound. Even though I’d lived in Mercer City my entire life, I’d never taken the ferry across to visit any of the islands. He made it sound mostly idyllic with his large gang of cousins he mostly liked. I couldn’t live up to my end of the conversation. My responses became more clipped as we got through the meal. When the server brought the bill and our desserts, Papa dropped some cash on the table before taking my hand and guiding me out of the restaurant. He was a man on a mission. I suspected that mission was to toss me out on my ass.

Our trip home was quick and quiet. I mostly stared out the window at the rain-soaked landscape that whizzed by. Papa’s conversation had tapered off, and now he concentrated on navigating the ever-present traffic on I-5. The quiet gave me time to contemplate how long it would take me to pack my bedroom because, after my ugly behavior at lunch, there was no way he’d want me to stay. It barely registered when he pulled into the driveway.

When Papa parked and clicked off the engine, he remained silent in the driver’s seat. After a beat, he finally said, “Let’s go inside. I’m telling you right now that I’m unhappy with your behavior. It was uncalled for, but I think you already know that.”

I nodded but stayed silent. What was there to say? Nothing.

Papa exited the vehicle and came around to help me. He grabbed the bags but allowed me to carry the smaller ones. Once inside the house, he placed his bags on the entry table and directed me to do the same. He rifled through them without a word until he found my new dolls. If he intended to kick me out, I didn’t get the point of taking them out of the bags.

“All right, c’mon.”

Without another word, Papa grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. He deposited me in his bedroom and warned me not to move off the bed. He returned a few minutes later with a pair of my pajamas. Silently, he stripped me out of my regular clothes and dressed me in the ones he’d brought from my room. A headache had bloomed on our way up the stairs, and it wasn’t improving. I bent my arms or legs when instructed, but I was thoroughly confused.

“Papa?”

“Get under the covers, love.”

Obediently, I climbed in and snuggled down. Papa put my babies in my arms and tucked the covers around us. He leaned down to kiss my forehead before he ran his fingers through my messy curls. “You’re tired and overwhelmed. We’ll talk later, but right now, you need a nap.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. Soothed by Papa’s scent and gentle fingers twirling my hair, the discussion I knew we needed became unimportant. That was my last thought before sleep claimed me.