The office where I work has two large rooms for seminars, and the folding wall between them had been moved. Decorations about the space screamed a secular Christmas, but we had been instructed to call it a Winter Party. HR had even sent a memo to tell us that it was considered inappropriate to wish anyone a Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, or Happy Kwanzaa. I stood near the end of one of the several tables filled with food and drink. My plate, with a few pieces of deli meat and a deviled egg and balanced precariously by my left hand, was eyed suspiciously by the department bitch. Rumor had it that she wrote people up for breathing incorrectly. I had stayed out of her radar, and once I grabbed a can of Coke, I planned to find a spot in an out of the way corner, eat my goodies, and go back to my office to finish up a report before we started the two weeks of mandatory vacation.
“I take it that all your work is done.” Her little smirk pissed me off.
“The CLR report that is due on December 27 was completed three days ago. The EOM for November, which is due tomorrow, was completed last Friday. The IIT report that is due tomorrow was completed at 6:30 this morning; it would have been earlier, but there was some delay on your end from what I was told. The data for the IOH report that is due on January 2 was still printing when I left my office. It will be completed before I leave this afternoon. Your tone indicates that there is a problem with my productivity. If that’s the case, I prefer your complaint in writing with a copy sent to HR.”
The bitch just stared at me. “I’m sure everything is up to your usual level of completion and accuracy. I have no problems with your productivity.”
I’m sure she didn’t. She walked off, and I noticed one of the accountants, who must have been standing behind her, smiling at me.
He walked up to me. “Hi. I think you put her in her place.” He continued to smile. I felt a little awkward. “May I join you?” He nodded his head toward the empty chair next to me.
I smiled back. “Of course.” That was the polite thing to do, but I really didn’t want anyone next to me, talking and asking questions, and filling the silence.
“Merry Christmas.”
I turned to look at him. Did he just say that to me?
“I know we’re not supposed to say it, but I saw the little nativity scene on your desk, so I didn’t figure you’d turn me in.”
“No. Of course, I wouldn’t.” He had really pretty green eyes.
“My name’s Greg Lewis. I work in accounting.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you there, but I didn’t know your name. It’s nice to meet you, Greg.”
“Oh, thanks. It’s nice to finally meet you, Ryan.”
He had really nice blond hair, too. It wasn’t shaved on the sides with a mop on the top. I hated that style. He didn’t really have bangs, either. But it was parted on the side. It was a really sexy look for him. “When were you in my office?”
“I’ve been dropping off the inventory reports just as I’m leaving so you’ll have them at the beginning of the next day.”
“Thank you. That does make my day start off more smoothly.” He had little dimples when he smiled.
“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal for me, and I’m glad it helps you out. I’m going to get some shrimp, would you like some, too?”
“I… well, I was going to go back to my office to finish a report I promised to get out today.” I saw Greg nod. Was that disappointment on his face?
“OK.”
“Do you want to get enough for both of us and meet me at my office? We can keep talking without the background noise.” Why did I say that? I prefer being in my office alone, and working on reports alone, and just being alone. But I saw him smile at the suggestions. It made me smile, too.
“Sounds like a plan,” Greg said. “I’ll meet you there in a few. Would you like another can of Coke.”
“Please.” He went to the table, and I headed to the trash can by the door to drop my empty plate. Golly, I thought, he seems really nice.
My office was quiet and dark when I arrived. A quick flick of the lights revealed that the report I’d been printing was not very long. I didn’t need it to do my report on the report, but I had to attach it to a printed copy to send to the Inventory Control VP. Most of my portion was already done. I examined my email for the spreadsheet they send after the printing is completed. I needed two figures from it. Presto, and I printed my report. I attached it to the copy on the printer, placed it in the envelope marked IC-VP. I attached my report to an email that I sent to the IC-VP with the heading IOH. In my head, I called it “Inefficiency of the Highest” (it really meant Inventory on Hand) because it was truly a waste of time and resources.
I had just clicked send when Greg arrived with a place of spicy shrimp and two cans of Coke. I was going to have to drink some extra water to make up for the second can of soda I was drinking that day.
“I was going to use two plates,” Greg told me, “but I was informed by you-know-who that I was only entitled to one.”
“I’ll share.” I smiled at him. Why was I suddenly smiling all the time?
“You have a great smile. You’re always so serious. Maybe it’s the stress of the job, but I like it when you smile.”
I looked up at him and put a shrimp in my mouth. That wasn’t something guys said to one another. I felt my heart rate increase. Was this guy interested in me? This cute guy. In me? Please, yes. I immediately saw us walking along the banks of the river that ran across the back of my parents’ farm. Holding hands. Kicking the snow. Laughing easily at the things each of us said. Then I thought about the place. I hadn’t been there in years. I kept paying the taxes after my father’s death. I rented the land to the neighbor so he planted something in the fields. One of the ladies in town came out monthly to clean, dust, change the linens in case I decided to drop in. But I had never wanted to go back. I had no reason to go back. Not until this moment. The house would be cold; maybe I…
“Earth to Ryan. Anybody in there?” Laughter.
“Sorry, you triggered a memory.”
“A good one?”
“It was actually the memory of something that I always wanted to have happen.”
“I don’t understand exactly,” Greg tilted his head to the side.
“I’ll save it for later.”
“Saving things for later is something I want to talk to you about.” His tone sounded serious. “I’m tired of saving things for later. When I started working here, I’d been here for about a week when I saw you, and I wanted to meet you, but I thought that someone might introduce us, but that didn’t happen. I kept waiting, hoping it would happen. Sometimes you’ve got to make it happen.
Some guys are good at just walking up to a stranger and asking him, or her, on a date. I’m not good like that, and I don’t know. Maybe you are.”
“You’re saying these things to a 27-year-old virgin.”
“These things are coming from a 26-year-old virgin.”
“Greg, would you like to go out with me?”
“Wait a minute. You had your chance. I’m asking you out now.”
“Depends on where you’re taking me.” I laughed.
“I was thinking about Fried Chicken Heaven followed by a walk in the park. Then a movie from RedBox at your place or mine. That would be a perfect date for me. Especially if I got a kiss at the end of the evening.” Greg’s cheeks turned red. “Quick, tell me yours before I die of embarrassment.”
“I imagine that my perfect date would start off with munching on some shrimp appetizers with an incredibly cute guy. Follow that with a walk in the park while holding hands and chowing down some chicken tenders, and ending the evening snuggling on the couch while a horror movie from RedBox played on the TV.”
“Wow,” Greg put his hand on mine. “I cannot believe how similar our perfect dates are.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.”
I took the envelope and dropped it in the outbox outside my office.
“Your car or mine,” asked Greg.
“I live across the street. I walk to work.”
“Of course you do.” He smiled. “My car, it is.”
The walk through the park was wonderful. It’s amazing how different a place can look when someone is holding your hand and happiness has taken up residence in your heart.
That evening, we watched a movie called “Hostel.” I’d never seen such gore. Each of us buried our heads behind the other from time to time. The movie didn’t set a romantic tone for post-film fun. Instead, I turned off all the lights, opened the blinds, and we sat cuddling as we watched the moon move across the sky. At some point, we fell asleep.
The next morning, we headed to the office, still in our clothes from the previous day, to check email. That was the only requirement for that day. We were soon on our way back to the parking lot at my apartment so Greg could retrieve his car.
“What are your plans for Christmas?” I asked, fully prepared to be disappointed.
“I should have told you this yesterday.” He turned me, and I leaned against the fender of his truck.
“I can take it.” I gave him a smile to let him know that no matter what he said, I’d still be here after Christmas.
“Last Christmas, one of my cousins showed my father an on-line profile I had.”
“Yeah?”
“It said something like, ‘looking for the man who’s hard cock will fit my cute ass.’ My college graduation picture was right there with it. I’ve been disinvited home for the rest of eternity.”
“Then come home with me.”
“Where to?”
“Northern Ohio. My parents had a huge farm there. I’ve kept it. I’ll get tickets to Toledo, and get someone to pick us up. There’s a vehicle for us to use at the farm.”
“It’s awfully cold there.”
“Cold? You don’t know cold. It’s fucking cold there, and that’s when it’s warm.”
“Ah, shit. I was thinking of Padre Island, or flying to Bermuda.” He stopped and looked at me. “But, sure. I’ll be with you.” He leaned in and kissed me. I kissed back. We kissed for about five minutes, and if someone had been filming us, we would have received an R rating for sure.
“What’s the plan, Ryan?”
“Go home, shower, shave, etc. Then pack a large suitcase with warm clothing and come back here. I should have ticket information by then.” Greg got into his truck and it disappeared around the corner. I hurried to my apartment to purchase our tickets.
There was snow on the ground as we landed in Toledo. Mrs. Linkey’s son was waiting for us at baggage pick-up and about forty minutes later, he dropped us off at the farmhouse. He’d called his mother from the car, and she ran out as we went in. The house smelled great. Warm molasses cookies were still cooling on the counter, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and when the heater kicked on, there was none of that burned dust smell. She had taken great care of the house, and even with the last minute notice, she had everything together.
“My nuts are frozen,” claimed Greg.
“Hey, wait until it really gets cold.
“I only said it to give you the opportunity to warm them up.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “As soon as I see you naked, and you prove to me that you’ve got nuts, I’ll think about warming them up.”
“Cruel. Cruel man.”
“Let’s go have a cookie.” I ran into the kitchen and grabbed two from the rack. Greg followed me in and I gave him one.
“Wait,” he held up a finger. “This is exactly why my feelings for you keep getting stronger. You could have grabbed a cookie and eaten it before I got here, but you grabbed two and waited for me.”
I hadn’t realized that I had done that, or the implications of having done that. I looked at Greg; his blond bangs askew; and I kissed him.
He pulled the cookie to the side as I neared his lips. “Sorry, I thought you were going to tease me by taking…” He was looking directly into my eyes. “Ryan, three days ago, I said ‘hello’ to you. Today, I’m telling you that I’m in love with you.” He stuffed the cookie into his mouth. By his expression, it might be his favorite cookie, too. I took his hand, and I led him upstairs.
I kissed him on the first landing; I kissed him on the second landing; I kissed him at the top of the stairs. I pulled him down the hall toward my old bedroom. Then, as we reached the door to my parents' room, I stopped.
Memories flooded into my head:
“Mom. Dad.” I was crying. “Please help me. Something’s wrong with me. I think I’m in love.”
“That’s normal, son,” said my dad.
“Oh, Ryan.” My mom was smiling.
“No. No. You don’t understand. I’m in love with Danny Schuler. I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to kiss”
Whack. That first fist to the side of my head knocked me to the floor. Then the belt. Slap after slap with that leather strap. My legs, my back, my side, my neck, my arms, my head.
“No. Daddy, please, I need help.”
“I am helping you. I’m going to beat these evil thoughts from your head.”
I was sobbing. Greg grabbed me and held me. I looked at him. His concern, his caring, his love gave me strength. I looked back at the door and then at Greg. “They can’t hurt me anymore, can they.”
He shook his head. “No, they can’t.”
I smiled a huge smile, then I opened the door. The bed’s better in this room. I want to make love in this room. I kissed him and never looked back.
