The Tree

"Uh-huh."

She punched me hard in the center of the chest, tears pricking her eyes.

"Say something, Jack, not just uh-fucking-huh!"

"Of course it was a mistake," I said, and she crossed her arms over her breasts and nodded, but the pain on her pretty face told a different story, one I didn't want to think much about because all it offered was even more pain and anguish. Except... I was ready, if that was what it took. I had tasted a little piece of heaven and knew nothing would ever be the same again. All the other women, the two wives, none of them mattered. Everything I had waited my entire life for had arrived last night, and now that was all it would ever be. I would live with the memory if I had to.

"What are we doing today?" she said, wiping her arm across her face, sniffing.

"I was thinking of clearing the garage. There's so much crap in there."

"All Pop's tools," Jen said.

"And those glass jars full of things he was saving in case they ever came in handy."

At least that got half a smile out of her.

"I'll work in here then," she said.

"Uh-" I stopped. "All right."

She nodded but neither of us moved. I didn't know how we were going to get through Christmas. It was me who finally turned away, but only because if I hadn't I was going to put my arms around her and lift her face to mine.

***

I stayed in the garage all day, skipping lunch. The old Ford Taurus wagon they had bought new in 1984 sat on tires going flat. When I tried turning the engine over I didn't even get a groan so I reached down and popped the hood.

I trailed the charge leads from the bench and clipped them onto the battery, topped it with distilled water, then checked the oil and fluids. It was displacement activity but felt good to climb underneath and drain the oil.

I yelled to Jen I was popping out. I don't know if she heard me or not. There was no reply, anyway.

I drove our rental into town, came back with radiator fluid and a gallon of oil.

By the time I went inside it had been dark three hours and snow was falling hard. It wouldn't last, it never did on the Cape, but six inches coated the driveway, making the scene festive.

The family room and kitchen were empty. There was no smell of anything cooking.

"Hey, Jen, you here?"

No reply.

I walked through to the back and heard the shower running. I rapped on the door.

"You all right in there, Jen?"

She said something I couldn't make out.

"You want me to order a pizza or something?"

More sounds I couldn't decipher. I chose to regard them as assent so used my cell to call for a pizza, coke and a side of fries. I was promised fifteen-twenty minutes, and figured on thirty.

When I cut the connection and turned around I saw the fire was laid but unlit, and that Jen had added six more decorations to the tree. I glanced at the fire, the tree, then manhandled it across to the corner and started searching the boxes from the roof space until I found what I was looking for. When Jen appeared dressed in black jeans and a loose sweater I had the tree lights spread across the floor testing each bulb.

I glanced up and Jen stopped when she saw what I was doing and her mouth made an odd shape.

"You want some help with those after we've eaten?"

"You want to?"

"Sure." I hadn't had a smile all day, but it was a start. I had my memories.

"I'll grab a quick shower. The pizza ought to be here any minute."

"I'll keep it warm until you come out."

The bathroom was steamy and smelled of Jen's soap and perfume. Her day clothes were tumbled on top of the laundry basket, laid delicately on top was her work underwear. Work panties, anyway. No sign of a bra and I guessed she didn't really need one. When I stepped under the shower my cock swung half erect and I soaped myself fast and clinically, ignoring the urge to jack off.

When I emerged I darted naked across the hallway into my bedroom and pulled on sweatpants and a sweater.

Jen had put a match to the fire and logs crackled, their scent sweetening the air in the room. She had pulled the big coffee table in front of the couch and laid salt and pepper and mayo out, together with chunks of fresh bread she had gotten from somewhere, and I wondered if I wasn't the only one to go into town.

I sat in one corner of the couch and Jen brought the pizza box out. We helped ourselves, using our fingers. It tasted good. Tasted like they used to last time we sat this way before either of us grew up and left home.

We drank coke and said nothing until we were done, then Jen said, "You want to do those lights now?"

"Sure. We got all night."

She nodded. I helped clear the table then we came back and sat either side of the tangle of wires untwisting, testing and twisting back in miniature bulbs. It was a long job. After an hour there was a pile of failed bulbs and we went searching in the boxes, certain Pop would have had spares, and he did.

We sat across from each other again and tested each of the new bulbs—and a fair number failed—then fitted each of the good ones.

"Do you have a tree at home?" Jen said, the first words she'd spoken since before dinner, but the silence hadn't been awkward.

"In L.A.?"

"Don't they do Christmas in L.A.?"

"Sure they do. But no, I don't have a tree."

"Have you ever, since leaving home?"

I shook my head. "How about you?"

"Didn't seem much point when I was on my own. And Marty wasn't keen. So no, I've never had one either."

I looked at the ratty artificial tree with its seven glittering ornaments and smiled. "I've missed it."

When I looked back Jen was smiling. "Me too. I want to decorate it tomorrow, and then we can put the lights on that sucker."

I smiled back. "Sure. That sounds good."

"And I want us to do Christmas dinner. And presents."

"Uh, I didn't think to bring anything for you. I'm sorry."

Jen laughed and the sound melted my insides. "I didn't get anything for you, either. Not the first thing on my mind, to be honest. But this was our home, Jack, and..." She trailed off. She had been looking down, talking to her hands. Now she lifted her face and looked around, taking in the room. The old leather couch. The two chairs, one either side of the fireplace, Mom's to the right, Pop's to the left. The fireplace itself, wood crackling and embers glowing. The tree. The drapes. The archway into the kitchen. "Yeah, that's what it feels like, doesn't it? Our home."

I watched her, a smile on my face as I saw the contentment on hers.

"Yeah, this is home," I said.

"Let's have one last Christmas here."

"You think Mom's got some turkey dinners stashed in that freezer?"

Jen shook her head. "Fresh. I want a real Chistmas dinner. I don't care what. Chicken, turkey, a roast, goose, whatever, but I want a proper dinner Christmas day."

"Sure," I said. I wanted her to stay this way, happy, excited. I wasn't going to touch her, but this was better than the day had been so far.

"Do you know how to cook a dinner like that?" Jen said.

"Do you?"

She shook her head. "I'm not what you'd call domesticated."

"Domestic," I corrected.

"I know what I said. So do you?"

"I enjoy cooking," I said.

She smiled like I'd said something funny.

In the morning the ashes in the grate were still warm and there were four more decorations on the tree.

***

The following day we broke the back of the packing and when I tried the Taurus the engine turned over, misfired, caught and ran smooth and sweet. I sat behind the wheel for a minute then turned the engine off, opened the garage doors and went inside.

"I'm going into town."

Jen was on her knees taping the edges of a box. She glanced back over her shoulder, hair caught in a clip, a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

"Give me five and I'll come with you."

I made a show of looking her over. "You'll need more than five minutes," I said.

"Who mentioned minutes?"

She was thirty. It took me ten to duck under the shower once Jen had finished in there then dress in chinos, an oxford shirt and sweater. She appeared in blue jeans and an old NYU sweatshirt and she couldn't have looked more beautiful.

She took me in, said, "Shit, I need to get changed again."

"You look great," I said.

She put her arms out and made a face.

"You look wonderful. Just like..." My voice caught and I hoped she didn't hear it," just like the day you left for college."

I think she blushed.

"We're taking Pop's old Ford," I said, and she grinned.

We turned onto Cahoon Hollow Road and drove past Great Pond to route 6 and then south to the Mall at Orleans. Jen sat with that same grin on her face the whole time as the old car wallowed and drifted across the pavement.

As we parked she turned to me. "I want us to split up. I got things I need to do on my own."

"Sure." I didn't tell her I had the same plans too. "Two hours enough?"

"Plenty. Meet you back here at six. How about dinner in the Beachcomber?"

I nodded, grinning.

I only just made it in time. I knew exactly what I wanted to get for her. Two items were easy, the third one tough, and then I needed to buy meat and groceries and wine. I decided to risk the wine, unsure what Jen might say, but you couldn't drink water with Christmas dinner, could you.

***

By lunchtime Christmas Eve there was only our folks bedroom to deal with. We had both been putting off the final stage, aware there was finality to it. We ate sandwiches and drank Coke then Jen got up and walked through and I knew the moment had arrived.

By the time I reached the bedroom she had stripped the bedclothes and was standing at the foot of the bed crying.

I hesitated, wanting to comfort her, afraid she would misinterpret any moves.

Jen turned to me, her face streaked with tears, and said, "I need a hug real bad, Jack."

I went to her and she slumped against me, her tiny body shaking as she sobbed.

I held her for what seemed like an hour but was more likely five minutes.

"This is so hard," she said, getting herself under control.

I kissed the top of her head. "I know, but it's nearly done now."

"Not just this. Us! Us is so fucking hard."

I pulled her against me. "No it's not. We slipped up, but we've come back from our mistake. That's all it was. The emotion, the pain, the grief. What we did was completely understandable. We both needed comfort."

She snuffled a laugh against me chest. "I think that went a little beyond comfort."

"Well, maybe..."

"You came all over my ass!"

"I don't want you to say stuff like that, Jen."

She pulled back so she could look at me. "Why not?"

"Because it doesn't help. I'm hanging onto myself by a thread here. I don't need you saying that kind of thing."

"About my ass?"

"Yes. About your ass."

"You didn't want to do what we did, Jack?"

"Of course I did. But we decided it was a mistake, and we have to stick with that."

"I guess." She turned inside my arms and leaned back onto me. I shifted a little so she wouldn't feel the first signs of my arousal. "Look," she said.

"At what?"

"There." She pointed at the bed. "That's why I was crying."

"I don't get it."

"The hollow on that side of the bed. It's where Mom always slept. Just one hollow. I was thinking of her all on her own in this house that holds so many memories for her, waiting out her days."

I nodded, my chin resting on the top of her head.

"Help me turn the mattress." Jen pulled away from me and tugged at the side.

I went across the bed and, with me doing most of the lifting, turned the mattress over.

"Better?" I asked.

"Better," Jen agreed. She went out and was gone a couple of minutes. I took the time to drag the boxes we had packed over the week out into the hallway. They were stacked three high all over the place, ready for the movers on Monday. It would be a strange Christmas.

Jen returned carrying clean sheets and pillowcases and started making the bed. I watched her for a while, not helping, feeling emotions welling inside me. There was an obvious question I wasn't going to ask. Instead I went out and carried on with the few chores remaining. I was stringing the lights on the tree when she came out.

"Christmas Eve," Jen said. "Presents tonight?"

"Always used to be," I said.

She nodded. "I got you a few things."

"Me too."

"Nothing for me?"

I tossed an ornament at her and she caught it one handed, came and hooked it on the tree.

"You gonna burn the house down when you switch these suckers on, you think?"

"Likely too, yeah."

"I'll make a fire up. What are we eating?"

"I didn't think we'd want anything heavy. Is salad all right?"

"I guess you can't fuck up salad too much, can you."

"You ain't seen my cooking yet."

I was smiling as I watched her laying the fire, studying the curve of her neckline, the way her hair had come loose from the clip and drifted across her cheek, the way her sweatshirt pulled up at the back to show a delicious stretch of skin. The way her jeans outlined the delicate perfection of her ass.

I turned on the lights, and those suckers worked just fine and I laughed, went to prepare the food.

An hour later we sat in the kitchen and Jen said, "This is Caesar salad, Jack. That's almost like real cooking."

"A bit of chicken and some croutons? It's hardly cooking."

"It's delicious is what it is. Can you really cook?"

"I told you, I enjoy it."

"Why in hell did Marsha leave you then?"

"Younger man. And L.A. has plenty of restaurants."

"Young man hung like a horse, don't forget," Jen said.

"Allegedly, according to you."

"Has to be. She's crazy to leave you otherwise. Unless you're a lousy fuck. Are you a lousy fuck, Jack?"

"You tell me," I said.

Jen speared chicken, lettuce, lifted it to her mouth and chewed.

"This deserves wine," she said.

"Some in the fridge."

She got up, brought the beaded bottle for me to open.

She sat back down.

"What we did wasn't fucking," she said.

"Felt pretty close to me." I drew the cork, leaned across and poured cold wine into her glass. She sipped, nodded her approval. I should hope so—the bottle had cost $50. There were three others, even better, ready for tomorrow.

"Close but no cigar."

"A big fat stogie from what I could tell." She smiled, innocent, wonderful. The night was rich with magic and promise once more.

We washed up and dried side by side, silent, companionable. Every now and then Jen would reach across for her glass and sip a little wine.

We took the bottle through to the family room and I added more logs to the fire. The tree was now fully decorated, lights twinkling. Which was good. The more decoration the less of the ratty plastic leaves were on show.

I sat on the couch but Jen went through into the hallway. When she came back she was carrying two wrapped gifts, one small, one larger.

"For me?" I said.

She nodded and sat along from me.

I got up and went to my bedroom and brought her gifts back. Three of them. Put them on the table in front of her.

"For me?" she said.

"For you."

"Thank you, Jack."

"Thank you, Jen."

She leaned toward the top parcel. "Can I?"

"It'd be stupid not to."

She glanced at me. "Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" She ripped the paper I had spent so long making as perfect as I could.

"Oh Jack..." She stood, holding the dark blue dress against her slight frame. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "This is beautiful."

"Well, after I ruined the last one, I thought..."

She swatted me and missed. "I washed it. Good as new now. But this is wonderful. Can I put it on now?"

"When we've opened the rest," I said.

She pouted and I laughed.

"Your turn," she said.

I opened the small gift first and gasped.

"Jeez, Jen, is this real?"

"I hope so, or there's a dead store clerk come Monday."

It was a Rolex. Not one of the gangsta models but subtle and beautiful. I took it from the box and put it on my wrist. The leather strap was soft, a deep, iridescent brown.

"This must have cost a fortune."

"Us lawyers are filthy rich, haven't you heard? And seeing as you never bought one for yourself, I thought it appropriate."

"Can I say thanks?" I said.

"Sure."

I leaned across. She leaned in. We kissed. A touch of the lips, nothing more.

"You now."

"We played that game already, didn't we?"

But she opened her second present.

"Sorry if it's a cliché," I said.

She ran the silk lingerie through her fingers, laid it against her cheek.

"Sometimes a cliché is a cliché because it's exactly the right thing. Thank you, Jack."

We kissed again, a little longer this time.

I opened my second and last present. Jen had one more to go.

"If you don't like them we can get them changed Monday," she said.

I lifted the silk pajamas from the wrapping.

"I like them," I said.

"I didn't know if you wore any in L.A., with it being warm all the time, but they might come in handy here."

"I'll wear them every night for the rest of my life," I said.

"You'll wash them sometimes though, won't you?"

"At least once a year."

"Uh, skanky."

She opened her last present and I was nervous, because I didn't know if she was going to like it. The tears in her eyes told me she did.

"Put them on for me?" she asked.

I nodded and took the heavy pearl necklace from her. Jen lifted her hair and I closed the clasp. She turned one way, turned the other.

"Do they look good on me?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Can I go change now?" she said.

"If you really want to."

"I really want to. You too, Jack."

"But I've got pajamas," I said.

She lifted a shoulder.

I swallowed.

"That's what I thought," she said. "And don't worry about embarrassing yourself, I already know what you've got."

"I'm no horse though," I said.

"Hmm... not bad."

I was ready first, of course. The silk kissed my skin at every point it touched and the thickness of my cock along my leg lay revealed as though I was naked. I didn't care.

I made up the fire again and drank another glass of wine for courage.

When Jen came through my mouth dropped open, and I felt my cock slide along my thigh as it lengthened. She looked stunning.

"Good fit," I said.

"Perfect fit. And I've got the panties on too, see?" She lifted the dress to reveal lavender hold ups, lavender panties and a hint of garter belt."

"So I see."

"They fit perfect too."

"I'm glad."

"I like the pajamas on you," she said.

"Me too."

She sat on the couch and turned to look at me. "Want to play the game again?"

I shook my head and she frowned.

"You want to know what I really want?" I said.

Jen's eyes widened. She nodded anyway.

"What do you want, Jack?"

"I want to fuck you," I said.

She swallowed. "You can't do that."

"No?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not on the pill or anything. We can't take the risk."

"I see."

"But you can make me come. I'd like that."

"You would?"

She nodded. "Only if you want, of course. And you can get some rubbers tomorrow and then you can fuck me."

It was my turn to swallow. "It's Christmas Day tomorrow. Where am I going to buy rubbers?"

"Soon, then."

"You want me to?"

She smirked. "You're stupider than you look."

"That would be difficult," I said.

Jen stood. "I'm going to take this dress off. I don't want to risk getting it stained, it's too beautiful."

"I guess, if you must." I stood as well. "Let me do it for you."

"I was hoping you might offer."

She stood while I undid each button along the front then drew the sides apart. She turned so I could lift the dress from her shoulders. I folded it neatly and laid it on Pop's chair.

"You put the bra on too," I said.

"For what it's worth."

"I love your breasts," I said.

"Not much to go around though, is there?"