The Christmas Deal

Pop wore a button-down shirt and dress slacks with his ugly old slippers. They’d always dressed up on Christmas Eve for turkey dinner and midnight mass, then spent Christmas Day in their PJs, opening presents and eating leftovers.

Now that Jenna and Jun went to Jun’s parents every other year with Pop and the kids, the routine had changed, and they were skipping church to get a good night’s sleep before driving in the morning. Logan was looking forward to a day of PJs with Seth and Connor. He wished like hell he was there now, but first things first.

Rip it off!

Sitting on the edge of a couch cushion, Logan looked at the Christmas tree with its golden lights and the old angel on top tilting to the right. He asked, “People giving good answers?” He nodded toward Family Feud on the TV.

Pop grunted. “A few.”

Do it. Don’t be a shit-brick coward. Just fucking say it. “You know how Seth and me have been living together? I’m gonna keep living there in January. We really like each other. We were pretending at first, but now it’s real.”

Pop’s gray, bushy brows met, and he stared at Logan. “What are you sayin’? That you’re a fairy?”

Logan’s first instinct was to deny it loudly. He forced a breath, his chest tightening. “I dunno. Kinda? I’ve always liked girls. Still do. But I think I’ve liked guys too. More than I would admit.”

Pop shoved a handful of pretzel mix in his mouth. He chewed noisily, watching a family trying to guess the most popular answer for “favorite way to wake up in the morning.”

There was clapping and exclaiming, and blood rushed in Logan’s ears, his heartbeat so loud he could barely hear himself think.

He waited.

Then he waited some more, every muscle clenched, his butt barely on the edge of the couch cushion. Was Pop going to tell him to get out? Was he going to say Logan disgusted him? That he was a disgrace to the family and—

“Like the kid on Schitt’s Creek,” Pop said, rooting around in the snack bowl and coming up with an orange peanut M&M.

“What?” Logan could barely get the word out.

“You know, with Eugene Levy. Rich people get stuck in a small town. Funny show. It’s like shit’s, but it’s spelled different.”

Logan tried to breathe. “Right. Yeah, I get it. I don’t—what about it?”

Pop looked at him now. “The kid on the show. He’s whaddya call it—bipan-curious or whatever.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s the popular thing these days, huh? Seems like it’s everywhere now. I don’t really get it, but no one asks what I think anymore.”

Logan’s lungs expanded a few more inches. “I’m asking. What you think.” He clenched his hands into fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. “About me and Seth.”

Frowning, Pop stared at him again. “So you’re saying you two are…” He motioned back and forth with a wrinkled hand.

Part of Logan wanted to deny it all, say never mind and run the fuck away. But he didn’t. He nodded.

Pop screwed up his face. “I don’t get why you’d want to. You’re a good-lookin’ kid. The girls have always chased you.”

“It’s not about that. It’s not that I can’t get a girl and I’m settling or something.”

“Huh.” He seemed to think about it. “That makes you happy? Bein’ with him? Like that?”

“I know it must seem weird to you, but yeah. It does.”

Pop grunted, and Logan couldn’t tell what it meant. Pop said, “You do seem happier. I was sayin’ to Jenny before. The kid too. So I guess that’s good. And you said you’re going to keep living over there?”

“Yeah. We’re going to see what happens. Maybe it won’t work out, but…”

Pop grunted again, turning back to the TV. “Won’t know unless you try. You could do worse.” Then he shouted, “Read the newspaper! Doesn’t anyone read the newspaper in the morning anymore?”

Her dress swaying, Jenna appeared with a plate of cookies, having clearly been eavesdropping. “You know who reads the newspaper every morning? Seth. He’s very old-fashioned that way. He picks one up on his way into the office.”

Logan wasn’t sure if it was true, but God, he loved his sister. Pop laughed, a wheezing rasp. “Jenny’ll be convincing me Seth’s the second coming of Jesus soon enough if she has her way.” He grabbed three cookies and took a big bite of one. “Only your mother made better chocolate-chip cookies. God rest her soul.”

Jenny sat beside Logan on the couch, squeezing his arm and kissing his cheek. He took a cookie. “These really are just like Mom made.”

She beamed. “Thanks.” Then she whispered, “That went better than I expected!”

“I keep telling you, I’m not fuckin’ deaf,” Pop grumbled, biting into another cookie. He asked Logan through his mouthful, “Didn’t you make your mom’s chocolate cake for the big dinner with the boss lady?”