Merry Cherry Christmas

Jeremy looked at the message one more time, then hit send.

Chapter Fourteen

Max swore under his breath as the tape on his thumb caught another piece and got twisted as he tried to keep the wrapping paper straight. He was going to make a joke about how he was all thumbs, but when he looked over at Jeremy on the love seat across the coffee table, he bit his tongue.

It had been two days since Jeremy had sent the pic of them together to his parents. Nothing in reply. Now it was Christmas Eve, and Jeremy had been understandably subdued through dinner, only picking at his tourtière. He’d offered to help Max wrap presents, but he sat with a box of fancy mints half-wrapped on his lap, staring into the fire.

The Christmas music station was on the TV, the mournful “In the Bleak Midwinter” seeming appropriate. Max wanted to tell Jeremy for the hundredth time that it would be okay, no matter what. He wanted to fix this. He wanted to call the cruise ship, have the Rourkes paged, and rip them a new one.

“You don’t have to stay up to help,” Max said quietly. “It’s my fault I always leave it to the last minute.”

Jeremy snapped to attention, blinking at the mints like he was surprised to find them in his lap. “No, I don’t mind.” He folded the snowman paper over the box.

Max still had Jeremy’s present to wrap, but he could quickly put it in a gift bag if all else failed. While Jeremy had been meeting Levi, Max had picked him up a new case for his glasses. Which was probably stupid, since the glasses had come with a case. But this one was smooth leather and marked with his initials. A kiosk in the mall had offered all sorts of personalized leather goods, and this had felt perfect. He hoped it was.

“This one’s for Meg?” Jeremy asked.

“Yep. It’s an old joke about how her breath stinks. It really doesn’t, but one time she ate so much garlic she was sweating it out. Her breath was a deadly weapon.”

Smiling absently, Jeremy wrote the tag and got up to tuck the box onto one of the tree’s thick boughs. The golden lights on the tree reflected off his glasses. He wandered to the fire, adding another log, then peered at the photos that covered the wall.

Noticing Max watching, he asked, “Is this your mom?”

“Yeah.” His throat was suddenly tight, but Max forced an even tone as he joined Jeremy and pointed to the four pictures in the big frame. “Her and my dad’s wedding. She always wanted a Princess Diana dress with poufy sleeves, even though it was out of style by then. Her law school graduation. With me as a hairy baby. The three of us on vacation in Goa at the beach. I have a vague memory of her in that red bathing suit helping me build a sandcastle.”

“She was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” His laugh was strained. “I don’t know why I said that. Not like I had anything to do with it.”

Jeremy smiled and gazed at the other framed photos of the family—Valerie, Dad, Meg, Mamy and Papy, Max, and various aunts and uncles and cousins. Grinning, Jeremy pointed to the grade nine uniformed school photo of Max with zits and his hair slicked down with half a bottle of gel.

“I never imagined you having an awkward phase.”

“Glad to hear it, but clearly inaccurate, as you can see.”

Jeremy laughed, and Max would happily bust out his embarrassing yearbooks if it would cheer up Jeremy, who slowly walked the wall, eyes roving over the photos. Max found himself stuck at the pics of his mom, the ache familiar. Dependable. Her smile had been a little crooked, and she squinted into the sun in the beach photo.

“I know all these pics so well. Like, if I close my eyes, I can see the images of her in my mind as if I’m looking right at them. But I don’t remember the real her. Not really.”

Jeremy took Max’s hand. “You were young, right?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat as he stared at the beach photo. “I’ve lived more of my life without her. Thirteen years.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Nope.” He squeezed Jeremy’s hand. “But life isn’t always fair. Especially when it comes to family.”

“True. But I shouldn’t complain. Compared to what you went through—”

“No comparing. You get to be upset. Okay?”

Jeremy nodded. His gaze wandered the wall. “Is that your mom at court?”

“Yeah, her first case at the Superior Court of Justice wearing the robes.” Max gazed at the photo: Mom with her wavy hair pulled back into a bun, the traditional black waistcoat and long black robe a bit too big for her, the white collar and tabs around her neck. She should have looked utterly serious, but in the picture, she had her hands on her hips and a grin lighting up her face. “Her friend took it in the bathroom before she went into the courtroom.”