I stood there in the kitchen with my hand on the pepper grinder and our fingers touching… and I didn’t want to let go. His touch was electric, even fingertips. Finally, he took a step back. I wasn’t surprised; it was what I was used to. There was something holding him back, keeping him from taking that next step. He didn’t take his eyes from my face though as he said, “I guess, since you’ve shared so much with me that it’s about time I share something with you.”
I didn’t want to break the spell that made him suddenly want to talk to me, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I just pulled out a chair and quietly took a seat. He took the other one and said, “I’m sorry that I’ve acted like it was a big mystery. The truth is that it’s just really hard for me to even think about, much less talk about.” He looked so distressed and I could see on his face how hard this was for him. I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine.
“I would like to know as much about you as you want to tell me. But if this is too hard, it’s okay.”
He covered my hand with his other one. His hands were so warm and my whole body felt tingly again.
“I want you to know me,” he said. “I was born to a couple of amazing people. My dad was an iron worker and my mother was a stay at home mom like yours. Christmas in our house was the best… well, compared to yours, maybe not the absolute best, but close,” he said with a grin. “My mother started baking in November. The house always smelled like apples and cinnamon and pumpkin pie. Even today when I smell those things, I get a warm feeling in my chest, like when I walked in here this morning. It reminded me of home.”
That made me feel better than anything he’d said so far. “I’m glad,” I said.
“My father worked hard and I learned later on in my life that although he didn’t make much money, they had stocked away a good sum to leave for me in case anything happened to them. I’m always grateful for that, but sometimes I wonder if planning for the worst encourages the worst to happen.”
“I had those thoughts myself after my parents passed away, but honestly I think that I’ve decided to believe that there is a cosmic plan for us all, no matter how difficult it is for us to understand.”
He nodded and then said, “When I was eight years old, my parents went out on December twenty-third to finish their Christmas shopping. We had a tree filled with gifts already, so I couldn’t imagine what they had left to buy. I had a babysitter who sat for me often since I was a baby. She tucked me in that night and we both talked about how strange it was that my parents weren’t home yet. They’d been gone a really long time by then and I’d started to worry. She kissed my forehead and told me not to worry, they would be home soon. I think I had just started to drift off when I heard the phone ringing. Then minutes later, I heard the babysitter, Shirley begin to cry. I knew that something bad had happened. I’d felt it in my bones before I went to bed. I stayed in my bed and covered up my head. When Shirley stopped crying and she came in to tell me I pretended like I was asleep. I was hoping that she would go away and not say it out loud. If she said it out loud, that would make it too real.”
I squeezed his hand. I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. I wanted to tell him to stop talking because I could tell how much it was hurting him, but he seemed like he needed to get this out. He’d probably needed to for a long time. He took a minute to compose himself before going on.
“They were in an accident and Shirley told me they didn’t suffer. I was only eight, but I knew she said that for my benefit as well. The next day I was still refusing to come out of my room. A police officer came by the house to bring my parents things by. Shirley was still there with me, she was trying to reach my aunt and uncle in Newark who were my only living relatives at that point. The police man came up to see me. When he walked into my room, he was carrying a bow and arrow set. It was Christmas Eve and that was what I had asked Santa Claus for. For a second, my eight year old heart wanted to believe that Santa had left it. My eight year old brain knew that wasn’t the case before he told me. He said the bow and arrow were found in their car the night of the accident. He had no way of knowing that what he was telling me was taking away my belief in Santa Claus forever, but it did. I found out later that the car was completely totaled, but the bow and arrow didn’t have a scratch. They’d rushed out that night to get me that stupid bow and arrow set and that was why they died.”
“Oh Aaron! You blamed yourself. You were just a little boy!”
“I did blame myself for a long time, but then I took that anger at myself and I turned it on Christmas. I blamed Christmas for everything that was wrong in my life and my resentment for it never faded, it grew and made a wall around my heart. A wall that was un-penetrable, until you came along.”
“I knew something terrible must have happened to you in order for you to dislike Christmas so much. Did your aunt and uncle raise you?”
“No, they weren’t able to take me. They had four children of their own. I was sent to a foster home and I bounced from one to the next. No one wanted to adopt an angry eight year old.”
My heart was literally breaking. It hurt in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.”
He smiled at me and said, “You shouldn’t be. You were the only one who got through to me. Do you know what the difference is between you and others that have set out to chip away at that wall?”
“No, what’s that?” I asked.
“You’ve treated me like a human being since that first day.”
“Other people look at me and see a CEO or a rich man and they treat me differently than they treat each other, even Janice who knows me better than anyone. She still calls me “Mr. Winters.” You look at me the same as you would any other man.”
“Not exactly,” I told him.
“How’s that?” he said.
“I see someone much more special than any other man I’ve ever known when I look at you,” I finally told him. He smiled and just as he seemed to be leaning in to kiss me, the timer went off for the steaks.
He laughed and said, “I’m going to hang on to that thought.”
“You better,” I said, as I got up to get our dinner out of the oven.
~
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
~
AARON