Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 18
January 3, 2020
Quotes from "The Crucible"
So, I gave sort of an overview of this play in a link of yesterday's blog, but, again, it's been haunting me.
I thought I'd go over some quotes that have resonated with me for over thirty years--
* This society will not be a bag to swing around your head, Mr. Putnam-- John Proctor
At the beginning of the story, Mr. Putnam senses that the girls found dancing in the forest can be used to sow dissent--he can profit from this. He's jealous of John Proctor, he's jealous of his other neighbors--he thinks everybody in the town has it better than he does, and is he not a just and righteous man? When John Proctor tries to keep things calm and rational, Putnam starts leveling accusations before the first girl has even stopped pretending to be comatose. Proctor is telling him that the small gathering of people with the singular purpose of self-preservation is not his weapon to start bludgeoning his neighbors for more power.
* Oh, Elizabeth, your justice would freeze beer-- John Proctor
This is almost a humorous line--but in the end it's the gaping flaw in the entire Puritan philosophy. Proctor did a bad thing--a human thing, true, but a bad one. He confessed his sin to his wife, he tried to make up for it--he cast Abigail out of the house, but didn't sully her name, knowing he bore some responsibility for the affair. Divorce is unheard of, and Proctor is trying desperately to make amends. His wife is civil--but never warm. Of course, the reason for this comes at the end, when it is too late for their town and themselves, and it's a heartbreaking one, built on the lie of Elizabeth's plainness and "unworthiness" for Proctor, when Proctor has been desperately in need of her love. This line is at the beginning, when Proctor is bringing her flowers, shyly trying to restart a relationship with her, and she is cold and distant and says she's been fair. Sure. But "fairness" is cold comfort to flawed humans who want warmth and kindness instead.
* A child's spirit is like a child, you can never catch it by running after it; you must stand still, and, for love, it will soon itself come back.--Rebecca Nurse
This is actually really sound advice in both the rearing of children and in dealing with childish people. The girls are freaking out because they've been caught dancing in the woods. One of them has been catatonic because she's so afraid of her family's wrath. Rebecca Nurse has born eleven children and now has twenty-six grandchildren. She says she's seen them through their "silly seasons"-- and you don't do it by playing the child's game. Children are illogical and they often make decisions based on mistaken information. Just stand still, take a deep breath, and wait for the child to wear itself out. If you aren't an ogre or a despot, the child will return out of love, and the gentle instruction and communication can begin to get the family back on track.
* Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!--Abigail Williams
Abigail Williams is a girl with an agenda. She was the one who led the girls to go dancing in the woods, and her sole purpose was to cast a charm to get John Proctor back--and before you think, "Well, she was a girl in love with an older man!" let's not forget--she also wanted to kill his wife. She's canny, she's clever, and she knows the "adults" around her are easily manipulated--but before she can give herself over to her plan, she needs to make sure her cohorts--the girls she led into the woods--aren't going to break. This is a breathtaking threat. It speaks of violence and bullying and a very real determination to win at all cost. But it's not made in public. Anyone who so much as hints that Abigail has an ulterior motive is accused of "witchcraft"-- and there's a detailed explanation (I'll skip it cause I'm tired) about the fractured logic that makes it impossible to accept any proof but accusation for an "invisible crime." By confessing to the world and then claiming she knows who the witches are, Abigail has become the center of the maelstrom--and don't you dare cross her. Power is in perception--Abigail is perceived as being "clean as God's fingers"--but don't ever forget that her dedication to "accusing witches" is really a way to get back at anybody who ever slighted her or anybody she was jealous of to begin with.
* Perhaps because there are those who believe that authority is all of a piece and that to challenge it anywhere is to threaten it everywhere.--Arthur Miller
Arthur Miller wrote extensive essays in the stage directions of The Crucible, often in an attempt to explain how the phenomena of a group of people being controlled by the most awful and manipulative of its members can occur. How do otherwise rational people fall into the trap of listening to lies, slander, and hysterical ranting in order to convict other people of ridiculous crimes? He wrote it as an allegory for McCarthyism--but his canny assessment of the cracked reasoning of humans is just as valid for your average social media shitstorm. In his treatises against "Diabolism" as he called it, he tried to expose the lie of dichotomous thinking. It is perfectly logical that somebody could believe in witchcraft and despise the idea of selling your soul to Satan, but still not believe that the witchcraft being called out in their community is a valid thing. That is the complex thinking of an adult. But that's not what happens in phenomena like this. What happens is, "If you don't yes me, you hate me! If you hate me, you choose evil!" There is no room for adult thought patterns here--it's all black and white. Believing that all of authority must be obeyed and none of it can be threatened falls right into the trap of dichotomy--and it's what allows perfectly rational people to believe the worst of their fellow humans when, in fact, all that is true is that they are human.
* You are pulling down heaven and raising up a whore! -- John Proctor
This one's self-explanatory. When Proctor realizes that the girls accusing pretty much everyone of witchcraft are not only believed, they're willing to destroy people who get in their way, he speaks out against it. Of course, the result is he gets accused, and eventually hanged, but in the meantime we have this very pretty quote in which he tries to make it clear that the word of a bunch of immature, frightened, and power-mad children is taking the place of the words of faith and guidance which he thought they all believed in.
* Is the accuser always holy now? Were they born this morning as clean as God's fingers? I'll tell you what's walking Salem—vengeance is walking Salem. We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law!--John Proctor
There's a lot to unpack here. I actually quote this one a lot--but usually in pieces. The first part says it all. The people screaming accusations aren't questioned. Besides being vengeful, petty children, they're also being guided by vengeful, petty adults. Dad wants some guy's land? Well, couldn't his little darling see it in herself to accuse his neighbor so he can have it all? Mom only had one child who lived? Well damn that old woman who had eleven! We need to get some payback! Nobody ever asked "Why that person?" They simply believed in the "invisible crime". The accusers in the center of a shitstorm like this are never without blame--but boy, doesn't shouting someone else's name and pointing a finger make them look spotless? Vengeance is walking Salem--the screaming children are getting theirs for every small slight, every spanking, every parent who didn't take them seriously, and the adults are letting them, with glee. The little crazy children are in power now, and common vengeance writes the law.
* I should hang ten thousand that dared to rise against the law, and an ocean of salt tears could not melt the resolution of the statutes--Danforth (or Hathorn?)
I'll be honest--I forget which constipated white man said this one but it's just such white-guy-in-a-suit reasoning. This goes hand in hand with the one above, in which Arthur Miller tries to explain that authority is "all of one piece" and to challenge one part of it is to challenge it all. The purpose of the laws is to keep people safe and to keep them from killing each other--but laws aren't all encompassing. There needs to be human compassion written into the language and the interpretation, or we end up with monsters like this saying sententiously--and feeling very justified about it too-- that it's better to hang ten-thousand people who question the law than to let one person off the hook in the name of simple basic human compassion. White-man justice at its finest, right?
* Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!--John Proctor
At the end of the play, Proctor is given a choice. Admit to witchcraft (which he didn't practice) and sign a paper that will hang on the church door where everybody can see it. He can live to see his unborn child be born, to have a second chance with his wife, to start all over again with a clean slate.
But the cost? The cost will be consigning all the people who won't sign the false confession to hang--when he knows they are innocent, possibly more innocent than he is, because he has lost his faith in God and what he believes is his goodness way back in Act 3. (Or was it 2--I always forget-- is this play 3 or 5 acts... well, it's been a while.) Anyway, the point is, his name, his reputation, which is pretty much the only thing he has left after Abigail Williams has disappeared with the money (to die as a whore, we find out later--life goals for the center of the shitstorm, I guess) is something he isn't ready to part with yet.
He is not a witch. He has done no wrong. His only crime was in telling the authorities that be that the girls screaming accusations weren't in the right. He can live knowing he was right and bailed, or he can die knowing he kept his good name.
He picks his good name, and his wife's good opinion, and is hanged while reciting the Lord's Prayer--as a witch shouldn't have been able to do.
I really love this play--I mean, there are a thousand quotes and a thousand ideas in it that help explain the inexplicable--why do people who are supposedly a part of a singular community, one based on reason and compassion, turn on each other on a dime.
For me, one of the saddest parts is something that happens at the end-- a minor character starts complaining about cows in the road. Half the town is imprisoned. There are cows who can't be contained, children going from door to door hoping to be fed, fields lying fallow without plowing. What was once a prosperous community with some flaws and some issues that needed hammering out is now a wasteland, and the screaming voices that started it are now long gone, and what's left are neighbors-- the neighbors who called people out, and the neighbors who were accused-- who are unable to meet each other's eyes. I mean, what did they do next? How do you meet your neighbor's eyes when you were in the courtroom screaming, "WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!" because someone you were a little jealous of gathered herbs you'd never seen? How does a community come back from that? I mean, they must have. Salem exists to this day.
But it must have been a cold and lonely road back for everyone involved.
I thought I'd go over some quotes that have resonated with me for over thirty years--
* This society will not be a bag to swing around your head, Mr. Putnam-- John Proctor
At the beginning of the story, Mr. Putnam senses that the girls found dancing in the forest can be used to sow dissent--he can profit from this. He's jealous of John Proctor, he's jealous of his other neighbors--he thinks everybody in the town has it better than he does, and is he not a just and righteous man? When John Proctor tries to keep things calm and rational, Putnam starts leveling accusations before the first girl has even stopped pretending to be comatose. Proctor is telling him that the small gathering of people with the singular purpose of self-preservation is not his weapon to start bludgeoning his neighbors for more power.
* Oh, Elizabeth, your justice would freeze beer-- John Proctor
This is almost a humorous line--but in the end it's the gaping flaw in the entire Puritan philosophy. Proctor did a bad thing--a human thing, true, but a bad one. He confessed his sin to his wife, he tried to make up for it--he cast Abigail out of the house, but didn't sully her name, knowing he bore some responsibility for the affair. Divorce is unheard of, and Proctor is trying desperately to make amends. His wife is civil--but never warm. Of course, the reason for this comes at the end, when it is too late for their town and themselves, and it's a heartbreaking one, built on the lie of Elizabeth's plainness and "unworthiness" for Proctor, when Proctor has been desperately in need of her love. This line is at the beginning, when Proctor is bringing her flowers, shyly trying to restart a relationship with her, and she is cold and distant and says she's been fair. Sure. But "fairness" is cold comfort to flawed humans who want warmth and kindness instead.
* A child's spirit is like a child, you can never catch it by running after it; you must stand still, and, for love, it will soon itself come back.--Rebecca Nurse
This is actually really sound advice in both the rearing of children and in dealing with childish people. The girls are freaking out because they've been caught dancing in the woods. One of them has been catatonic because she's so afraid of her family's wrath. Rebecca Nurse has born eleven children and now has twenty-six grandchildren. She says she's seen them through their "silly seasons"-- and you don't do it by playing the child's game. Children are illogical and they often make decisions based on mistaken information. Just stand still, take a deep breath, and wait for the child to wear itself out. If you aren't an ogre or a despot, the child will return out of love, and the gentle instruction and communication can begin to get the family back on track.
* Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!--Abigail Williams
Abigail Williams is a girl with an agenda. She was the one who led the girls to go dancing in the woods, and her sole purpose was to cast a charm to get John Proctor back--and before you think, "Well, she was a girl in love with an older man!" let's not forget--she also wanted to kill his wife. She's canny, she's clever, and she knows the "adults" around her are easily manipulated--but before she can give herself over to her plan, she needs to make sure her cohorts--the girls she led into the woods--aren't going to break. This is a breathtaking threat. It speaks of violence and bullying and a very real determination to win at all cost. But it's not made in public. Anyone who so much as hints that Abigail has an ulterior motive is accused of "witchcraft"-- and there's a detailed explanation (I'll skip it cause I'm tired) about the fractured logic that makes it impossible to accept any proof but accusation for an "invisible crime." By confessing to the world and then claiming she knows who the witches are, Abigail has become the center of the maelstrom--and don't you dare cross her. Power is in perception--Abigail is perceived as being "clean as God's fingers"--but don't ever forget that her dedication to "accusing witches" is really a way to get back at anybody who ever slighted her or anybody she was jealous of to begin with.
* Perhaps because there are those who believe that authority is all of a piece and that to challenge it anywhere is to threaten it everywhere.--Arthur Miller
Arthur Miller wrote extensive essays in the stage directions of The Crucible, often in an attempt to explain how the phenomena of a group of people being controlled by the most awful and manipulative of its members can occur. How do otherwise rational people fall into the trap of listening to lies, slander, and hysterical ranting in order to convict other people of ridiculous crimes? He wrote it as an allegory for McCarthyism--but his canny assessment of the cracked reasoning of humans is just as valid for your average social media shitstorm. In his treatises against "Diabolism" as he called it, he tried to expose the lie of dichotomous thinking. It is perfectly logical that somebody could believe in witchcraft and despise the idea of selling your soul to Satan, but still not believe that the witchcraft being called out in their community is a valid thing. That is the complex thinking of an adult. But that's not what happens in phenomena like this. What happens is, "If you don't yes me, you hate me! If you hate me, you choose evil!" There is no room for adult thought patterns here--it's all black and white. Believing that all of authority must be obeyed and none of it can be threatened falls right into the trap of dichotomy--and it's what allows perfectly rational people to believe the worst of their fellow humans when, in fact, all that is true is that they are human.
* You are pulling down heaven and raising up a whore! -- John Proctor
This one's self-explanatory. When Proctor realizes that the girls accusing pretty much everyone of witchcraft are not only believed, they're willing to destroy people who get in their way, he speaks out against it. Of course, the result is he gets accused, and eventually hanged, but in the meantime we have this very pretty quote in which he tries to make it clear that the word of a bunch of immature, frightened, and power-mad children is taking the place of the words of faith and guidance which he thought they all believed in.
* Is the accuser always holy now? Were they born this morning as clean as God's fingers? I'll tell you what's walking Salem—vengeance is walking Salem. We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law!--John Proctor
There's a lot to unpack here. I actually quote this one a lot--but usually in pieces. The first part says it all. The people screaming accusations aren't questioned. Besides being vengeful, petty children, they're also being guided by vengeful, petty adults. Dad wants some guy's land? Well, couldn't his little darling see it in herself to accuse his neighbor so he can have it all? Mom only had one child who lived? Well damn that old woman who had eleven! We need to get some payback! Nobody ever asked "Why that person?" They simply believed in the "invisible crime". The accusers in the center of a shitstorm like this are never without blame--but boy, doesn't shouting someone else's name and pointing a finger make them look spotless? Vengeance is walking Salem--the screaming children are getting theirs for every small slight, every spanking, every parent who didn't take them seriously, and the adults are letting them, with glee. The little crazy children are in power now, and common vengeance writes the law.
* I should hang ten thousand that dared to rise against the law, and an ocean of salt tears could not melt the resolution of the statutes--Danforth (or Hathorn?)
I'll be honest--I forget which constipated white man said this one but it's just such white-guy-in-a-suit reasoning. This goes hand in hand with the one above, in which Arthur Miller tries to explain that authority is "all of one piece" and to challenge one part of it is to challenge it all. The purpose of the laws is to keep people safe and to keep them from killing each other--but laws aren't all encompassing. There needs to be human compassion written into the language and the interpretation, or we end up with monsters like this saying sententiously--and feeling very justified about it too-- that it's better to hang ten-thousand people who question the law than to let one person off the hook in the name of simple basic human compassion. White-man justice at its finest, right?
* Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!--John Proctor
At the end of the play, Proctor is given a choice. Admit to witchcraft (which he didn't practice) and sign a paper that will hang on the church door where everybody can see it. He can live to see his unborn child be born, to have a second chance with his wife, to start all over again with a clean slate.
But the cost? The cost will be consigning all the people who won't sign the false confession to hang--when he knows they are innocent, possibly more innocent than he is, because he has lost his faith in God and what he believes is his goodness way back in Act 3. (Or was it 2--I always forget-- is this play 3 or 5 acts... well, it's been a while.) Anyway, the point is, his name, his reputation, which is pretty much the only thing he has left after Abigail Williams has disappeared with the money (to die as a whore, we find out later--life goals for the center of the shitstorm, I guess) is something he isn't ready to part with yet.
He is not a witch. He has done no wrong. His only crime was in telling the authorities that be that the girls screaming accusations weren't in the right. He can live knowing he was right and bailed, or he can die knowing he kept his good name.
He picks his good name, and his wife's good opinion, and is hanged while reciting the Lord's Prayer--as a witch shouldn't have been able to do.
I really love this play--I mean, there are a thousand quotes and a thousand ideas in it that help explain the inexplicable--why do people who are supposedly a part of a singular community, one based on reason and compassion, turn on each other on a dime.
For me, one of the saddest parts is something that happens at the end-- a minor character starts complaining about cows in the road. Half the town is imprisoned. There are cows who can't be contained, children going from door to door hoping to be fed, fields lying fallow without plowing. What was once a prosperous community with some flaws and some issues that needed hammering out is now a wasteland, and the screaming voices that started it are now long gone, and what's left are neighbors-- the neighbors who called people out, and the neighbors who were accused-- who are unable to meet each other's eyes. I mean, what did they do next? How do you meet your neighbor's eyes when you were in the courtroom screaming, "WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!" because someone you were a little jealous of gathered herbs you'd never seen? How does a community come back from that? I mean, they must have. Salem exists to this day.
But it must have been a cold and lonely road back for everyone involved.
January 2, 2020
Just catching up...
Hey all--I've been writing a lot of blog posts that I'm not posting. Normally I wouldn't even mention them, but I didn't want those of you worried about the Patreon eating all my time to think that's where all the blog post went--I'll still blog about my family, but sometimes the blog acts as a diary, and I've learned the hard way that I need to keep some of that shit to myself.
Anyway--about four years ago I wrote THIS about the Crucible and the theory of Diabolism. I mention it here because it has a summary of the play and I applied it to politics at the time, and I've been thinking about that a lot. I may talk about it later--I just thought I'd throw it out there now.
And as for the rest?
New Years was a very sweet, very quiet affair. Big T brought is girlfriend over for a pork roast (that turned out surprisingly good with some apricot jam--and was even wonderful as a sandwich tonight!) and some ice cream and some boring family stories. Apparently he thought that would be the be-all and end-all of his evening, but he brought her in, and she looked FABULOUS, with her hair coiffed and glitter on her cheeks and a black velvet dress. I told her she looked amazing and told T she looked amazing and he gave her a surreptitious look from the kitchen.
"Yeah, Mom-- I thought we were going to stay here most of the night, but she dressed up so nice. There's a party where all her friends are--I think we might leave at nine to go there so she can be seen."
Good boy. They left early, and we were here, watching The Thin Man and enjoying every black and white minute of it. Ah, Asta--always good for a laugh!
ZoomBoy was sick for the past couple of days--but he'd surpassed his expiration date a couple of days ago, honestly, and it was to the point where we'd walk across the room and start sniffing our own pits because we couldn't figure out where the stench was coming from. (It's hard to make a sick kid take a shower when there's a 50/50 chance the water won't be freezing.) Anyway--after we clinked glasses in a New Years toast and then did a group hug, he pulled back and said, "I have neither bathed nor farted in an entire decade."
-.0 It was like his entire life had been building up to that moment right there. Unbelievable.
Anyway-- he has since bathed. (canyagimmehallelujah? iknewyacouldamen!) Tonight we went and saw Jumanji, which was pleasantly entertaining--and God did I need that--and I actually went swimming!
And then I sat in the hot tub for half an hour-- sheer. Bliss. Ah.
So that was our New Years. Not bad, all in all.
I hope everybody else's was lovely--in fact, I hope 2020 is so awesome, we all forget the number nineteen and make enough money to hire somebody to count to twenty for us!
Happy New Year!
December 30, 2019
Help! I'm locked in the house with my children!
LOL--no, seriously.Well, the good news is we have heat for now, and the bad news is the water heater is... well, frizzing. So, yes, we DO get out of the shower into a balmy 68 degrees, but since the shower possibly dropped our core temperatures down to our blue and frozen toes, well, it's, uh, cold comfort. (ba-dum-bump.)
Oh!
And ZoomBoy is sick!
*headdesk*
The good news--and there is plenty--is that I am with my family, and while it's having a deleterious effect on my writing production (ie I have about two hours at night to actually get shit done!) it is, of course, my family--and they're delightful.
You may notice the picture! Through no fault of her own--as in, she ordered them a good month and a half before Christmas--Chicken's present got here this morning. Mine says "Hail Santa!" and, yes, that looks a little, uhm, Santanic. I adore it. Also it fits me, and not much does. Mate's is a Batman ugly-Christmas-Sweatshirt--it's awesome
Well-- she DID place second with her Christmas gift to Squish this year. Squish's FAVORITE was a graphic novel that Squish has said--repeatedly and dreamily-- "Oh, wow--it's SO PRETTY!" Also it was beautiful and sad-- a teenaged girl's trifecta in storytelling, so go Big T!
And delicate as that is, I need to remind everyone that sometimes teenage girls can compete with the boys in the gross department-- witness this little exchange:
Squish: Dad, the cat smells like Mom's butt.
Mate: Oh God--no, just--
Squish: But he sits in mom's seat all the time-- here, smell him!
Mate: I WILL NOT SMELL THE CAT!
Me: Hey--I am not the only one who sits in that seat.
Squish: Okay-- so not Mom's butt, but he smells like--
Mate: I'M NOT SMELLING HIM!
Squish: Fine, fine. Whatever. He seems to like that seat anyway.
And speaking of cats--and cat names--the following just occurred to Mate:
"Nebula, would you--oh. Hey. We have a boy cat named Nebula and a girl cat named Steve. And a, uh, girl dog named Geoffie. Is this a thing?"
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
And as for ZoomBoy, well, he's feeling a little better, but this evening as I was walking down the hall he jumped out of his bedroom ahead of me and hugged me until...
"What was that?" he asked."I burped. You were SQUEEZING me!"
"Oh." And thence proceeded to shoulder his way past me to run down the hall--until I grabbed his shoulder.
"No!" I told him. "You leap out of your door, tackle me, and squeeze me until I burp, then you shoulder your way down the hall? WHO TAUGHT YOU MANNERS!"
Mate called out from the living room, "I did! I'm sorry. That's me. ZoomBoy let your mom go first."
*headdesk*
By the way--the grocery store is out of sparkling cider, and we are depressed. But without it, I'm pretty sure we'll still have a wonderful New Years Eve.
December 27, 2019
*yawn* That was swell!
Remember when we were little, and we wanted all the presents and all the candy and all the sweets? We wanted a thousand Christmas celebrations and a thousand family members and all the hoopla in the world?
Well, we're all a little older now--even the teenagers--and we have simpler wants.
The kids wanted clothes, because they don't get them that often, and they loved what they got. They wanted about one toy a piece--because they both have phones, and they know they're lucky, and they're constantly entertained. We got the older kids kitchen appliances--a toaster oven for Big T, and a blender/mixer wand for Chicken.
Everybody got a book or two.
And of course, chocolate in the stockings.
It was small. Dinner at my house, breakfast at my parents, with games afterwards. Back here at my house in the afternoon, where we all ate candy and hung out in a monosyllabic pack, huddling under blankets and hoping the animals would sleep on us! Us! Us! because they were WARM that's why!
It was a couple of lovely, peaceful, kindness filled days--and my family makes me proud.
And this morning? I post-Christmas miracle-- the guy came to fix the heater!!! Can everybody say hurray? Oh my God--I forgot what it was like to feel my toes!!! And as an additional blessing--hot water! I got a hot shower AND toes! I hope I never take things like heat and cool and a roof over my head and children who love me for granted.
In the important things, I am so very blessed.
Well, we're all a little older now--even the teenagers--and we have simpler wants.
The kids wanted clothes, because they don't get them that often, and they loved what they got. They wanted about one toy a piece--because they both have phones, and they know they're lucky, and they're constantly entertained. We got the older kids kitchen appliances--a toaster oven for Big T, and a blender/mixer wand for Chicken.
Everybody got a book or two.
And of course, chocolate in the stockings.
It was small. Dinner at my house, breakfast at my parents, with games afterwards. Back here at my house in the afternoon, where we all ate candy and hung out in a monosyllabic pack, huddling under blankets and hoping the animals would sleep on us! Us! Us! because they were WARM that's why!
It was a couple of lovely, peaceful, kindness filled days--and my family makes me proud.
And this morning? I post-Christmas miracle-- the guy came to fix the heater!!! Can everybody say hurray? Oh my God--I forgot what it was like to feel my toes!!! And as an additional blessing--hot water! I got a hot shower AND toes! I hope I never take things like heat and cool and a roof over my head and children who love me for granted.
In the important things, I am so very blessed.
December 22, 2019
A Few Observations
* Black cats shouldn't sit on black cushions with their eyes closed.
* If you have no heat and you have no hot water, it's perfectly acceptable to peace out of your morning shower.
* Space heaters are kind little creatures and we should treat them well and give them thanks.
* If it's raining outside and you have no heat and no hot water, it's probably better karma NOT to walk the dogs because they have no way to warm up.
* If you have shopped recently and can make something warm and salty and filling while everyone huddles around the television like cavemen around the campfire, the no heat and no hot water becomes inconsequential.
* Blankets also help.
* If you REALLY missed your morning shower, finding out you DO have hot water just in time to do the dishes is sort of a bummer.
* You shouldn't try to block an emergency hat if it's cold and rainy outside and cold inside, because your hat will never dry, and the emergency will be over.
* For the record, Witcher starts to make sense on episode four. It's a whacked out convoluted weirdo sort of sense, but it's there. Yes, it's there.
* Making a second emergency hat (because the first one turned out monstrously over-sized) with your daughter who is ALSO making emergency yarn wear can lead someone to believe they have either A. Really succeeded, or B. Really failed as a parent.
* Every year I need to remember that there will come a moment when I absolutely cannot work because there is crafting, cooking, and panicking to be done.
* My time is now.
If I don't get online much in the next couple of days, may your holidays be lovely, peaceful, and bright, and may you find the sort of happiness with your families that I have found with mine.
And may your cats not blend into your living room chair, AND your office chair, so that you don't ave to freak out every time you sit down to make sure they're not gonna be squished.
* If you have no heat and you have no hot water, it's perfectly acceptable to peace out of your morning shower.
* Space heaters are kind little creatures and we should treat them well and give them thanks.
* If it's raining outside and you have no heat and no hot water, it's probably better karma NOT to walk the dogs because they have no way to warm up.
* If you have shopped recently and can make something warm and salty and filling while everyone huddles around the television like cavemen around the campfire, the no heat and no hot water becomes inconsequential.
* Blankets also help.
* If you REALLY missed your morning shower, finding out you DO have hot water just in time to do the dishes is sort of a bummer.
* You shouldn't try to block an emergency hat if it's cold and rainy outside and cold inside, because your hat will never dry, and the emergency will be over.
* For the record, Witcher starts to make sense on episode four. It's a whacked out convoluted weirdo sort of sense, but it's there. Yes, it's there.
* Making a second emergency hat (because the first one turned out monstrously over-sized) with your daughter who is ALSO making emergency yarn wear can lead someone to believe they have either A. Really succeeded, or B. Really failed as a parent.
* Every year I need to remember that there will come a moment when I absolutely cannot work because there is crafting, cooking, and panicking to be done.
* My time is now.
If I don't get online much in the next couple of days, may your holidays be lovely, peaceful, and bright, and may you find the sort of happiness with your families that I have found with mine.
And may your cats not blend into your living room chair, AND your office chair, so that you don't ave to freak out every time you sit down to make sure they're not gonna be squished.
December 19, 2019
Running Away
So, the heater is going to cost a grand--maybe, if we're lucky. It might cost four, we won't know until Tuesday. Yes, that Tuesday. The day before Christmas Tuesday.
*headdesk*
I'll be honest-- when I heard that, I, uh, took a nap.
I was cold, I've been stressed and in pain, and I was up late last night. I got both kids from school, brought them home, and, uh, took a nap.
I woke up two hours later, and Mate and I watched movies.
And watched movies.
Hellboy, the new one. We'd taped All in the Family and Good Times. There was the season finale of Watchmen (and if you haven't been watching that, OMG YOU MUST.) In the middle of this, he got up and warmed up some leftovers and we stayed, huddled in our blankets, watching television. I got a lot of knitting done on the sweater I'm working on-- I'm still not sure if it will be done by Christmas, but I'm telling you, I'm willing to give it a go.
When the night was over, Mate got up to go to bed and I said, "Thank you for letting me run away."
He was all, "Sometimes, it's the only way we can face tomorrow, right?"
He was, of course, right. Sometimes, you just need to run away. But I'm back at my desk now--I found one of those lost pairs of hand warmers, so now I'm wearing them under the bigger pair of cherry red ones, and the alpaca cloak of the highlands really is the way to go for heat insulation.
We'll make it.
We've got an entire closet of blankets, and there's always wearing all your clothes.
And sometimes, we can run away and come back to a better tomorrow.
*headdesk*
I'll be honest-- when I heard that, I, uh, took a nap.
I was cold, I've been stressed and in pain, and I was up late last night. I got both kids from school, brought them home, and, uh, took a nap.
I woke up two hours later, and Mate and I watched movies.
And watched movies.
Hellboy, the new one. We'd taped All in the Family and Good Times. There was the season finale of Watchmen (and if you haven't been watching that, OMG YOU MUST.) In the middle of this, he got up and warmed up some leftovers and we stayed, huddled in our blankets, watching television. I got a lot of knitting done on the sweater I'm working on-- I'm still not sure if it will be done by Christmas, but I'm telling you, I'm willing to give it a go.
When the night was over, Mate got up to go to bed and I said, "Thank you for letting me run away."
He was all, "Sometimes, it's the only way we can face tomorrow, right?"
He was, of course, right. Sometimes, you just need to run away. But I'm back at my desk now--I found one of those lost pairs of hand warmers, so now I'm wearing them under the bigger pair of cherry red ones, and the alpaca cloak of the highlands really is the way to go for heat insulation.
We'll make it.
We've got an entire closet of blankets, and there's always wearing all your clothes.
And sometimes, we can run away and come back to a better tomorrow.
December 18, 2019
Some Days Are Like That
Christmas shopping with Mate is one of my favorite good things from a bad place to have happened in the last decade.I used to be one of those crazy people waiting the day after Thanksgiving for the doors to Toys-R-Us to open, and I gotta tell you, we gave our kids a lot of useless plastic shit in those days. But when I got pulled from my job in the high school, I wasn't allowed to talk to any of my teaching friends, which meant my social circle just disappeared, in the span of a really shitty hour.
The buddy I went shopping with wasn't allowed to talk to me anymore.
And I was a mess.
I would fade in and out of conversations--my attention span was non-existent, and I would cry randomly, for no reason at all. At one point in time, we had to pay $300 to replace a key fob I'd left in one of my bags of yarn because we just could't fucking find it, and every time I wandered the house to look, I burst into tears.
So imagine that kind of wreck around Christmas. I'm pretty sure Mate was afraid to leave me alone, but I had Squish with me at the time and we sat around and watched a lOT of television when I wasn't writing. But send me into a crowd of people at the mall?
I don't think so.
So we started this tradition of the two of us taking a couple of days off to go shopping. And it's been a lot of fun. It's an excuse to do something together and to talk and to enjoy each other's company and to discuss our favorite topic--our kids--and to laugh at the weird things you can buy for the holidays.
It's something I've started to look forward to.
But this year was hard--for a number of reasons--including my foot which was swollen and aching as we walked. And while I wasn't bursting into tears a lot, I was wandering in and out of attention, and Christmas shopping isn't as much fun when you don't have the resources you normally do.
Still-- we had some fun moments. We found out from the guy at J.C. Penny's that people tended to walk in off the street and steal socks. Not packages, just one from the package. I helped a woman who was looking for a salesperson, and when I told her, "Now THAT would be a miracle," she smiled. And then she was really grateful when I told her that simulated down was usually hypoallergenic polyfil, and real down would probably make her sneeze.
And then there were the mitts.
See-- I had actually MADE MYSELF MITTS. I had two pairs. Two pairs of mitts--and I'm used to losing half a pair sometime during the season, but this year, given how distracted I am, I went big. Like MUCH bigger. I didn't just lose one mitt. I didn't even lose a pair, or half of one pair and half of another.
No, this year, I lost four fingerless mittens--two matching pairs--and apparently the gods have them because I have tossed the damned house.
So in the middle of Christmas crafting--and at this point I have a sweater to finish and two scarves to make--I had to take a time out last night and make myself another pair of fingerless mitts. Because my old creaky fingers get cold, that's why.
Why are they bright cherry red? Because for reasons known only to the gods--and they're feeling tricky this year, as you may have guessed-- I had one skein of this color--ONE--in my stash.
But I got to tell you, they sure did look Christmassy.
And they kept my old creaky fingers warm in the oh-my-god terrifying chill of the high-forties/low-fifties that was this day. (East coast people, stop laughing. Stop it I say. We know who we are here, and we are wimps.)
And amid the uncertainty and the zoom brain and the hopes for a better tomorrow and the extra work to make that happen, I have to say, this bright cherry red reminder that I can make something concrete and useful sure did make a difference in the tenor of my day.
December 16, 2019
Busy, BUSY weekend...
Takes deep breath...ZoomBoy's choir presentation was Saturday-- so for most of the week there's been picking him up late and trying to make sure we had everything from an iron to sour gummy candy to hair gel.
But it was worth it-- the presentation was FANTASTIC, and it lasted a good three hours (so, like, exhausting) and the middle was a raffle/silent auction that, well, sent us into a coma. But other than that, it was really festive, REALLY original, and really well done. My only complaint was that as a member of the basic concert choir, ZoomBoy was stuck in the back a lot--but that's okay. We could see him radiating sound and good attitude even from the back of the stage.
The basket of paperbacks I donated was made a silent auction item instead of a raffle item, which pleased me. I hope they made a lot of money on it--I mean, JUST the books alone were probably worth $150, but they were SIGNED and that makes them better.
Between ZB's rehearsal and his performance, we stopped at a Christmas tree lot--well, a VERY SKETCHY Christmas tree lot that only took cash and barely had a register kiosk and generally looked like the trees all "fell off a truck" and ended up in the parking lot of Sunrise Mall.
But that's okay--we pretty much couldn't afford a tree from a fancy lot--we had to take Sketch Enterprises and like it.
And like it we did...
We put it up today, and the big kids came over, and Mate got paid so there was a roast and rice--and Squish did all the decorating, but ZoomBoy pulled out his R2D2 lights that his sister gave him for Christmas last year.
And now, we have a tree, and I spent an evening listening to music, and my car is tuned into Christmas music for drive time and generally?It really IS the season.
Also--
If you follow me on FB, you may have seen that I'm setting up a Patreon. So, most of the free fiction I put up here will now be on Patreon, for a small price.
I'm sorry for this--I love writing ficlets and just randomly posting here, but this will help supplement our income, and that's something we really need. I'm going to try to make it worth it to sign up for the top tier--I hope to be sending out .pdfs of previous fillets as often as I can.
Thank you all so much for your patience and encouragement in this--the comments on FB were really really supportive.
My Patreon page is right here: https://www.patreon.com/AmyHEALane And there are two posts up for public view. The fiction will all be for the tiers, so from now on, the blog will probably be about three times a week, and mostly family stuff.
But still here.
Being able to go back and find my birthday post to my oldest son from 12 years ago was sort of a tribute to why blogs are a good thing. I hope to keep blogging for quite sometime.
December 11, 2019
Baby Groot
Not much to report tonight--sorry!
ZoomBoy is rehearsing for his choir program on Saturday--and picking him up late from school may seem like a giant pita but I remember band and drama productions of my own. I usually found a ride, because asking my parents was no bueno-- if they weren't working they were pissed that I asked and if they weren't pissed that I asked they totally didn't get the reason I might kind of like to be on time. Getting ZoomBoy from school is a chance to set that right. Big T needed it once or twice, but Chicken was almost entirely all dance and soccer. I'm pretty proud of ZoomBoy and his willingness to try any and all performing art. He's amazing.
Squish performed last night--"Monologue-a-palooza"-- and some of the presentations were really great! But a moment here, to shout out to the poor drama teacher, and the art of "making do." She doesn't get a budget, people--hell, she didn't even get a heated MP room. They killed the houselights, but they didn't have a spotlight--all the performers were backlit from the lights on the stage. They had two microphones--and old stands--so for Squish's skit, the only one with three performers, they put one of the microphones on the table, and the feedback/gain on the sound system was so loud we couldn't hear them.
And, as the kicker, Squish was sick-- she'd been holding on all week just so she could perform. So, for the half-hour we were waiting for her in the freezing MP room, all we could hear was "hack hack hack"--as in, everybody there to see their kid heard it. I'm sure someone out there is going, "Who was that hacking last night! Whoever they are, you're sick and I'm pissed!"
It's a shame. She actually is very funny in a really unique way. She got into the car the other day and I told her about how, during aqua aerobics, the sun came out in the middle of the freezing fog.
She said, "You guys were all like this!" And then she did a spot-on imitation of Baby Groot. I've been laughing about it for three days.
Chicken (whom I don't talk about much per request) got accepted into the teaching credential program. *happy starry eyes* Yeah. Chicken :-)
And Big T turns 27 tomorrow. For those of you who have been here since the beginning, uh, yeah. I'm a mother of a grown assed man. He really is the best of men, on his way to his BA in English, which is not an easy feat for him, working, and living independently. I'm proud of him every day.
Just for shits and giggles, I went back in time twelve years to the first blog about T's birthday I could find. This is from 2007-- Enjoy: BIG T TURNS 15 I have to admit--it surprised even me.
ZoomBoy is rehearsing for his choir program on Saturday--and picking him up late from school may seem like a giant pita but I remember band and drama productions of my own. I usually found a ride, because asking my parents was no bueno-- if they weren't working they were pissed that I asked and if they weren't pissed that I asked they totally didn't get the reason I might kind of like to be on time. Getting ZoomBoy from school is a chance to set that right. Big T needed it once or twice, but Chicken was almost entirely all dance and soccer. I'm pretty proud of ZoomBoy and his willingness to try any and all performing art. He's amazing.
Squish performed last night--"Monologue-a-palooza"-- and some of the presentations were really great! But a moment here, to shout out to the poor drama teacher, and the art of "making do." She doesn't get a budget, people--hell, she didn't even get a heated MP room. They killed the houselights, but they didn't have a spotlight--all the performers were backlit from the lights on the stage. They had two microphones--and old stands--so for Squish's skit, the only one with three performers, they put one of the microphones on the table, and the feedback/gain on the sound system was so loud we couldn't hear them.
And, as the kicker, Squish was sick-- she'd been holding on all week just so she could perform. So, for the half-hour we were waiting for her in the freezing MP room, all we could hear was "hack hack hack"--as in, everybody there to see their kid heard it. I'm sure someone out there is going, "Who was that hacking last night! Whoever they are, you're sick and I'm pissed!"
It's a shame. She actually is very funny in a really unique way. She got into the car the other day and I told her about how, during aqua aerobics, the sun came out in the middle of the freezing fog.
She said, "You guys were all like this!" And then she did a spot-on imitation of Baby Groot. I've been laughing about it for three days.
Chicken (whom I don't talk about much per request) got accepted into the teaching credential program. *happy starry eyes* Yeah. Chicken :-)
And Big T turns 27 tomorrow. For those of you who have been here since the beginning, uh, yeah. I'm a mother of a grown assed man. He really is the best of men, on his way to his BA in English, which is not an easy feat for him, working, and living independently. I'm proud of him every day.
Just for shits and giggles, I went back in time twelve years to the first blog about T's birthday I could find. This is from 2007-- Enjoy: BIG T TURNS 15 I have to admit--it surprised even me.
December 10, 2019
Jai/George -- The nature of secrets-- Part 10
Hey all-- thank you for the kind responses to last night's post. There is some true kindness in the world, and I am grateful.And now, a little bit of Jai and George-- for you :-)
* * *
The Nature of Secrets
Jai didn't like to talk about his former boss. When you were a child and over six-foot tall and you had a reputation for defending the small and the weak on your block, you got picked by the local mob boss as muscle.
You got taken to a foreign country, whether you wanted to be or not, and put in charge of the boss's family, whether you liked them or not.
Jai had liked the younger ones--they delighted every time he smiled. Nobody was afraid of him, because he would scowl and wink and play.
But then his boss would say, "Don't speak to him. He's a boy-fucker. Just let him stand there and look scary." And the children would stop smiling.
Jai had grown accustomed to this as his life before he'd started working for Ace. But Ace and Sonny were lovers, and it didn't scare them that Jai was gay or wanted Sonny so very badly, and he'd begun to relax a little. The thing he had, in the mountains, with George, his kind and delicate nurse, made him happy--but he kept it close.
His old boss would use it against him.
Jai had seen the boss kill a girl once, because one of his men liked her enough to be late to a meeting. It was better that George stay secret. Not that he thought Ace would do that--but if Jai could, he'd keep Ace and Sonny and Alba secret too.
Secrets were comfortable.
When Burton brought Ernie to Ace in October, Jai understood. Ernie was a secret--nobody should know. Secrets had become to mean more than just facts to Jai. They became people you wanted to protect.
But even Ernie, who was kind to Alba and Sonny could be an uncomfortable secret.
"Burton needs to come see that boy," Ace muttered fitfully while doing the bills behind the counter one night. Alba had gone home because she had school in the morning, and Sonny was making dinner. As had bought him an Insta-Pot and he'd become enamored of baked beans. Jai could only be happy George didn't have to share his tiny apartment on those nights--but he was a little sad he didn't tell George these things, because the thought made him chuckle all day.
His gas also terrified Duke, the tiny Chihuahua that Ace and Sonny spoiled like a princess, and watching the creature run around their little house yapping after Jai's unfortunate gastric emission had made everybody laugh for a solid half-hour.
George was always smiling, or trying to smile. Even when he'd felt like death he had made little jokes. Jai thought that maybe his George had a sense of humor, even about gas.
He sure hoped so.
Jai pulled his attention back to Ace and his statement. "He is afraid of being owned," he said thickly. "Ernie would be... dangerous, I think. To Burton's peace of mind."
Ace rolled his eyes. "That's everybody. That's me and Sonny--you think I've had a decent night's sleep since I saw him, that first day in the military? I can assure you, I have not."
Jai grunted. "Sonny is much maintenance. I imagine some lovers would let you sleep better." George wasn't high maintenance--but then, Jai wouldn't mind making him so.
Ace eyeballed him and Jai shifted as he sat. "You have somebody," he said, and Jai crossed his arms, feeling naked.
"That is none of your business," he muttered, before his promise to George rebounded to his head like a boomerang.
Ace just looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You are my friend and we take care of you. It should be my business," he said, no bullshit.
Physically Jai was much bigger. He'd killed men Ace's size with very little trouble. Jai was also very aware that he could no more hurt Ace than he could hurt the ridiculous, loud, irritating, dear little carpet flea that liked to place delicate little paws on Jai's chest while it licked Jai's chin.
There were some things a man--a real man--should never do.
He looked down at Ace and looked away. "He has asked," he said with dignity. "He has asked if you could know about him. Should something happen to me, you would tell him."
Ace grimaced. "Should we tell the--"
Jai shook his head. "No," he said, forbidding in his stomach. "Just... my former employer, he still sends men around."
Ace's jaw clenched. Jai had said very little--but the other muscle guys who had visited every so often to make sure Jai was "satisfactory" help for Ace pissed him off. More than once they'd offered to "protect" Ace's garage themselves, so Ace could "let Jai go." Ace was not a stupid man--he knew "let Jai go" was code for "have Jai killed." Ace had looked a cold blooded killer in the eye and said that if Jai was ever "let go", Ace would call up the man's boss and tell him that the killer had made a direct threat on the boss's life.
And Jai had told the man that in order to get to Ace, he'd have to come through Jai.
The men had left in a hurry after that, probably assuming that Ace and Jai were lovers, but as they disappeared, Ace said, "And we can only thank God Sonny was not here to see that," And Jai knew they were on the same page.
Sonny was their secret together.
And now George would be.
"Yeah," Ace said now. "I hear you. You don't want every dumb motherfucker on the planet knowing your business. Alba keeps my finances government issue clean--but I don't want those assholes pawing through my spreadsheets. Sonny can fix a car better than anyone either of us have ever seen--I don't want anybody looking for his fucking certificate. You and Ernie and Burton, you get invited into our house because we want you there. Anybody else comes in, they get a kick in the balls--"
"Or a knife in the ear," Jai said mercilessly.
"Or that," Ace agreed. He didn't flinch or qualify that statement, which is why Jai loved him in the same way he'd once loved his father, before he'd been taken from home.
Ace gave Jai his phone. "Put his number in," he said. "You can watch me text him once and then any contact after that, I'll run by you. Is that fair?"
Jai's throat felt thick and words were hard after that. "Da. Thank you."
He watched then as Ace punched in Hi--I'm Jai's friend--
"And employer," Jai interjected.
And employer, Ace Atchison. He wanted you to have my number in case we needed to reach you.
"There," Ace said, showing Jai the sent text. "That good enough for--" The phone buzzed as he held it up, and Jai could read the next text.
Tell him thank you for me. I'm pleased to meet you. I'd love to know where you live so I could visit. Jai knows my hospital and my parents' names and my cat's name and I know really nothing about him. Tell him hi for me--George
Ace stared at the message for a moment and then looked back up at Jai, who was shifting uncomfortably.
"That?" he asked. "That's your guy?"
"He is..." Jai swallowed. "Personable."
"Jai," Ace said seriously, "you have to tell him who we are."
Jai crossed his arms. "I have tried," he muttered. "I told him what I used to do, and I told him... I tried. I am a bad person--"
Ace held up his hand. "No, you are a good person. But just spilling all of that information about himself--about you. That's dangerous."
Jai pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how," he said at last.
Ace nodded. "Understood. Here. Let me try." George, it's nice to meet you. You sound nice. Jai is a good man but he's very private. The things he tells you are his and yours alone. We'll meet when he's ready, I'm sure. "How's that?" he asked, showing Jai the text.
"You said 'nice' twice," Jai told him.
"Do I look like a fuckin' poet here?" Ace asked, his voice pitching because, Jai understood, this was not really his wheelhouse.
"No," Jai agreed. "That is fine."
"I won't talk about you without your permission," Ace said, pressing Send.
"Thank you."
Ace let out a breath. "Now we need to go inside and eat. And be sure to tell your guy that by not having the two of you eat here at the same time when Sonny's making beans, you might have just saved his life."
Jai chuckled. "I had planned to."
"Good. Then he'll fit in just fine."
* * *
Jai saw George about a week before Christmas. Camping was damned cold, so Jai had rented a hotel room in Grapevine. It wasn't a great hotel, but then, they weren't really there for the amenities.
Their customary greeting lasted for about two hours this time--made longer, Jai suspected, by the king sized bed. When they both fell back into the sheets, panting and sweating, Jai wondered for the umpteenth time what it was about George that made sex so... so much bigger than having his cock stroked. He didn't know, but he was curious enough to lie on his side and trace the delicate lines of George's jaw as they both caught their breath.
"Your boss texted me," George panted, closing his eyes and tilting his head toward Jai's touch.
"Da. I saw."
George narrowed his eyes grimly. "He's just as bad as you at giving out personal information."
Jai darted his head in and licked the sweat from George's temple. Like the rest of George, it was delicious. "We are private people," he conceded.
George looked at him unhappily. "When do I get let into your secret little club?" he asked, the plaintive note in his voice almost killing Jai.
Jai kissed his mouth, savoring. "You do not understand about secrets," he said, "because you have never needed to keep them."
"True," George admitted. "But why--"
Jai stroked his neck with the back of his hand. God, exquisite. "Because Ace and I have kept secrets," he said. "To protect people. We have killed to protect people. And you are now one of those people, you understand? Sonny is one, and Ernie is now one--"
"Who's Ernie--"
Jai grimaced. "He is another secret--but not one that should trouble you. But you see? Our place in the world is to protect secrets. Nobody can come into our house and rip apart our lives, because we have kept the important people safe."
George sighed. "Im important?"
Jai closed his eyes. "More so everyday."
"I brought you a present, you know."
Jai smiled. He did. It was a large jacket, all weather, so they could go hiking even when it was cold. "I do. I brought you one too." He'd brought George a Leatherman tool--useful when camping, but also for self-defense.
"I know. But do you know what I really want for Christmas?"
"No."
"A story--just one story, of your choosing, about your everyday life."
"Of course."
Which was how Jai came to tell George the story about how Sonny fed them all beans and Jai broke wind so badly it scared the dog.
George laughed until he couldn't breathe, and Jai smiled shyly. They ordered takeout, and as they were eating, he told George about how Ernie took the dog out for a walk and how Sonny tried really hard not to get jealous, but Ace was ecstatic, because it meant he and Sonny could have private time together without the dog watching them from his crate.
And then he told about how Alba snuck the dog treats she wasn't supposed to, and how the rest of them made sure the dog ate very very well because otherwise she'd make him fat.
When their weekend was over, he was embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he confessed humbly. "You asked for something real. I have been talking all weekend about an eight pound Chihuahua."
George's smile was bittersweet--but it was also accepting. "I wanted to know who you were," he said. "And I know you're a man who protects your friends, and protects your lover, and finds joy in small things, and can be content with people in his life who care for him. I'll be honest, Jai--it's more than I've known about any Herb, Steve, or Gary I've ever dated."
"Good." Jai held him, hugged him to his chest, for a long time. "Someday," he promised under his breath. "Someday, I will not live in such fear that you'll be taken from me. Someday, you can see my tiny life, my tiny garage, and I won't worry quite so much that you won't think I'm worthy."
George didn't say anything, but he hugged Jai just as tight.
After Jai let him walk away, both of them going to their cars and taking off back toward LA, he realized his sweater--bright green, a present from Sonny the year before, because every man nearly seven feet tall wanted to wear Christmas green--was wet from tears.
As he started his car, his pocket buzzed, and he checked his phone.
You're the most worthy man I've ever met. I'm proud to be your secret.
His throat tightened, and he touched the face of it lightly.
Da. You are the most precious secret I've ever kept.
Merry Christmas, Jai.
Merry Christmas, George. There will be more to come.
