Big Man For Christmas

And fuck if I’m ever going to do that again. I won’t.

I don’t want the gossip machine in motion, so I won’t make a scene. I’ll wait until later when we’re alone. But I’m not going to marry Tyler. I’ll go back to Chicago and move out of our place, but he broke what we had. And in a weird way, I’m grateful to him. Because a life like that, just existing, wouldn’t have been actually happy. I would have been strung along for years, and it still would have ended the same way after I found out about him cheating. Only worse, because we would be married. Further tangled.

My mother waves me over to help set up the tables with food, and I head over there. Tyler is with us, most of the women putting out the food that they’ve brought. It’s a pre-fireworks potluck that turns into a giant lunch that everyone eats in rotations.

The first row of vendor booths is going up, and I spy Casey bracing the side of one of the large booths by himself while two others use tools to lock it into place. He’s the piece that’s still confusing to me. What do I do about him?

How do I reconcile my decision not to marry Tyler with what I’ve done with Casey? There’s no denying that these last few days with him have been filled with happiness and lust and excitement. But isn’t that exactly what Tyler did? He tried something different and he liked the difference.

The only separation is that I’d already given back the ring and told him we were done. Him coming out here didn’t change that.

I hear a burst of wild laughter and turn to find Tyler surrounded by a group of women. I recognize most of them from the town. From either school or being related to someone I know. He’s telling a story that he loves, about a time he nearly died on the L. Or at least that’s the way that he likes to spin it. He’s carefully crafted the narrative over the years to make it funnier, more captivating.

He’s the only man not working on the set-up for the actual carnival. I walk over to him and he immediately sweeps me in beside him with his arm. “Shouldn’t you go help the others?” I ask, nodding toward the construction work.

“I will in a minute,” he says. “The ladies and I were just having a good time with some old stories.”

“I didn’t know your fiancé was so funny, Carley,” Lisa Jenkins says, batting her eyes at Tyler. “You’re a lucky girl.”

I give her a flat smile. I sure am lucky.

“I’m going to go help.”

“I’ll be over in a second,” he says. “I just thought of another one that you ladies are going to absolutely love.”

He could do that all day. Flirt and charm people while avoiding the actual work that needed to be done. And he is so good at it that no one would notice except for me.

Whereas Casey is throwing himself into whatever he is doing with abandon. If anyone needs an extra set of hands, he is there. If someone needs help lifting, he shoulders the burden.

Casey doesn’t need to charm anyone. Everyone in this town already loves him. Because he takes care of people in the community, and the fact that he cares pours out of every cell and breath. You can’t be near him and not feel that he’s sincere about everything that he does. It’s just part of who he is.

“Can I help?” I ask my dad, who’s busy nailing some trim onto the booths for decoration.

His voice is muffled because his mouth is full of nails that he’s holding. “Sure thing. Stuff’s over there.” He jerks his head. “You know the drill. Get the stuff toward the bottom so your old man doesn’t have to bend over.”

I laugh, grabbing a hammer and some strips of Christmas green wood. The little booths are totally charming when they are put together. A little Christmas village. After the trim, lights will be strung around the tops so they glow when people walk through the rows.

When I was little, I thought that they looked like miniature frosted gingerbread houses—good enough to eat.

Nailing the trim gives me something to do with my hands. Until Tyler asks me to help him find a drink—he’s not sure how we set things up. I point him in the right direction and go back to work.

Then he asks me if I can help him with the simple task my mother assigned him. Untangling the Christmas lights. “I’m working on this right now. I’m sure you can untangle the lights on your own.”

“Come on, babe,” he pleads. “It’s something we can do together.”

I breathe out through my nose, aware that there are suddenly eyes on us. “Fine.”