glided across the room. Carl’s mouth fell open and he dropped the phone on the floor.
“What the fuck
are
you?” he asked.
“I told you. I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past,” the figure moaned. “I’ve come to
take you on a short journey. Touch my glove.”
Carl looked down at his naked body. “I can’t go anywhere like this. I’m not
wearing clothes. Are you crazy? Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t believe in ghosts,
you fucking loon. The dream with Marty wasn’t real. This isn’t real.”
The Ghost lifted both arms. The windows opened wide and the bed frame vibrated.
The bathroom door and the bedroom door began to swing back and forth all by
themselves. While the curtains blew forward and snow blew into the room, the small light
on the nightstand flickered on and off. When the television went on, the Ghost shouted,
“Come with me. Touch my hand.”
Carl stood there, staring at the moving doors. His knees felt weak and his lips
started to tremble. The ghost moved closer and shoved the black glove into his face. Carl
slowly lifted his right hand. His fingers moved toward the black glove. “If I touch your
hand, will you leave me alone?”
“Just touch it,” the Ghost moaned. “You don’t have a choice.” Carl took a shallow breath and pressed the tips of his fingers to the black leather
glove. In less than a moment, he was standing beside a familiar brick building. The Ghost
was on his left. They were both outside and there was snow on the ground. Carl spread
his arms apart and looked down at his body. He was still naked and he wasn’t even
slightly cold. He turned to the Ghost and said, “How can this be? I’m stark naked and I’m
standing in the snow and it feels like June.”
The Ghost was staring into a window that had been decorated with pine swags
and red Christmas bows. It didn’t answer Carl.
“Where are we?” Carl shouted. “This is insane.”
When the Ghost didn’t answer, Carl checked out the surroundings. The brick
building with white trim looked like a place he remembered well from his childhood,
Briarwood Manor. He’d grown up there. Carl’s father had died when Carl was young,
and his mother had taken a job at Briarwood Manor as head housekeeper for the wealthy
Briarwood family. Carl and his mother had lived in a small guest cottage behind the main
house.
“What are we doing at Briarwood?” Carl asked. “I haven’t been here in years, and
there’s a very good reason for that. I vowed I’d never return.”
The Ghost moaned, “Touch my glove and follow me.”
Carl figured he didn’t have much of a choice. A second after he touched his hand,
they were standing in the drawing room of the main house at Briarwood Manor. The
entire room was illuminated in soft light. Candles burned on the grand piano, a fire roared
in the fireplace, and a huge, ornate Christmas tree glowed in a tall bay window. There
were piles of perfectly wrapped gifts beneath the tree. People Carl hadn’t seen in more than fifteen years were singing at the piano. They were old friends, yet here they were
still young and innocent.
Carl rubbed his jaw and said, “I remember this night. It was the last Christmas
Eve party I ever went to at Briarwood Manor.” He knew it was the last Christmas Eve
party he’d attended, because each year Mrs. Briarwood chose a different theme for her
Christmas trees. On that particular year, she’d decided to have the tree decorated in all
gold with small white doves. At the time, he’d thought it was the best tree she’d ever
designed. The small yellow lights bounced off the gold ornaments. The little white doves
toned things down and added a sense of balance to the tree.
When an old female friend walked past Carl, he lowered his hands and covered
his private parts. She was carrying a drink and smiling at someone on the other side of the
room. He looked at the Ghost and said, “This is ludicrous. I’m standing here stark naked
and she didn’t even bat an eye.”
“They can’t see you,” the Ghost moaned. Then the Ghost lifted its right arm and
pointed to the other side of the room.
When Carl looked up, he saw a younger version of himself. The younger Carl was
holding a drink and talking to Victor Briarwood, Mr. and Mrs. Briarwood’s only child
and the heir to the Briarwood fortune. Victor was wearing a black suit that night, with a
white shirt open at the collar. His dark brown hair was parted on the side and thick,
straight chunks fell across his forehead. The younger version of Carl was wearing a dark
blue suit and a light blue shirt. He was smiling and laughing so hard his head fell back
over and over. Victor was smiling, too. And he was staring between Carl’s eyes and lips
with his large brown eyes. Carl glared at the ghost. “They can’t see or hear me?”
The ghost nodded, and then groaned, “No.”
Carl pressed his palm to his throat and crossed the room in his bare feet. He stood
in the middle of the party without being noticed by anyone, and stared at the younger
image of his body. His young face was so smooth and his eyes were so much brighter. He
hadn’t smiled that way in years.
He remembered this party well. He’d been a freshman in college that fall and this
had been the first time he’d been back to Briarwood since Labor Day. And it had also
been the first time he’d seen his best friend, Victor Briarwood, since the holiday. Carl’s
mother had passed away a year earlier and Carl had won a scholarship to a state college.
Victor had gone to Harvard and they hadn’t seen each other in months.
Carl looked at the Ghost and said, “Victor and I grew up here together. We were
inseparable. When my mother died, his family allowed me to live in the guest cottage and
finish high school until I went away to college. They treated me just like family. I haven’t
thought about them in years. I have thought about Victor often, but we lost touch.”
Then he frowned and looked around the room. He shook his head and said, “Look
at them all, laughing and joking and wasting their time at a Christmas party. A bunch of
fools. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with this sort of thing anymore. I’m so over it.”
The Ghost nodded, then pointed to the young images of Carl and Victor. The
pianist started playing a familiar old Christmas song and Victor looked into young Carl’s
eyes. If anyone else had been paying attention, they would have seen how much these
two young men loved each other. Young Carl whispered something into Victor’s ear and
Victor smiled. Then Victor looked around the room. When he saw that no one was watching, he lowered his hand and placed it quietly on young Carl’s ass. He squeezed his
ass a few times and made a motion to leave the room by tipping his head to the right.
Young Carl’s eyes dropped and he followed Victor to a garden door next to the
Christmas tree.
Carl and the Ghost watched both young men leave the party. No one else saw
them slip out the garden door. Carl shook his head and frowned. He remembered feeling
apprehensive that night. Victor had been extremely horny and he couldn’t wait to be
alone with Carl. There were so many people; it wasn’t easy to disappear. But Carl could
never say no to Victor Briarwood. Victor was the only man he’d ever known who could
make him do anything. Carl was glad those days were over. He’d been such an emotional,
romantic fool back then. He’d had to learn everything the hard way, especially that the
illusion of true love didn’t exist.
The Ghost lifted its arm and said, “Touch my glove.”
Carl took one more look at the Christmas party and said, “For once, I’ll be more
than happy to touch your creepy old hand. I’ve had about enough of this Christmas shit as
I can take. Let’s go.” Then he squared his shoulders and rested his fingers on top of the
black glove.
When Carl opened his eyes again, they were outside in the snow. At first, Carl
couldn’t figure out where they were. He and the Ghost were standing next to a brick wall.
It was dark; the trees and shrubs were thick. He heard the sound of laughter coming from
the left and he turned fast. He looked at the Ghost and said, “I think I know where we are.
These were the garages in Briarwood Manor.” Carl followed the sound of the laughter. He rounded a corner and crossed toward
the last garage door. It was open and there was a vintage Cadillac convertible parked
inside. He sighed and said, “There’s old Mr. Briarwood’s favorite car. He used to love to
take it out on sunny days in the summer. He was the original owner. Fifteen years ago,
that car had to be at least thirty years old.”
The Ghost nodded and pointed to the inside of the dark garage.
Carl hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the garage. The top of the car was
down and young Carl and Victor were sitting in the back seat. Victor put his arm around
young Carl and handed him a small package wrapped in gold foil and red ribbon. He
smiled and said, “I bought this for you. I hope you like it.” Then he kissed young Carl on
the lips and said, “Merry Christmas, baby. I love you.”
Young Carl handed Victor a package and said, “And this is for you. I couldn’t
afford anything expensive. But I wanted to get you something that you’d use and that
would make you think about me all the time.”
Older Carl looked at the Ghost of Christmas Past and frowned. “How could I have
ever been so young and so stupid? I wish I could walk up and smack my younger self in
the back of the head.”
When young Carl opened the small box, he pulled out a gold ring that was
shaped like a wedding band and said, “I love it, Victor. It’s perfect.”
Victor smiled and took the ring from young Carl. Then he reached for young
Carl’s right hand and slipped the gold band onto his ring finger. He kissed young Carl’s
finger and said, “It’s a perfect fit. Everything about this Christmas has been perfect. Even the song we just heard on the piano. I’m officially making that our own Christmas love
song.”
Young Carl threw his arms around Victor’s shoulders and said, “I’m never going
to take this ring off. I’ll wear it forever.” Then he kissed Victor on the lips and said,
“Now I feel terrible. You bought me an expensive ring, and I couldn’t afford to get you
anything even half as nice.”
Victor sat back and reached for the package. He tore the wrapping paper and said,
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said. He opened the flat box and pulled out an extra long black
scarf. He ran his large, thick fingers across the wool and smiled. “I love it,” he said. “And
I think I know how you can make this gift even better.”
Young Carl was staring at the gold ring on his finger. He looked up with bright
eyes and asked, “How?”
Victor leaned forward and licked his neck. “You can take off all your clothes now
and put the scarf around your pretty neck for me. I’d like to see you totally naked, with
nothing else but this scarf around your neck.”
Young Carl took a quick breath and said, “I’m not sure, Victor. I want to, but I’m
afraid someone will come in and find us. The house is filled with people. We could get
caught.”
Older Carl stepped closer to the car and shouted, “Don’t do it. This is a mistake.
Please don’t do it. You’ll both regret it for the rest of your lives.”
The Ghost of Christmas Past moaned and said, “They can’t hear you. You don’t
exist to them.” Victor slipped his hand under young Carl’s leg and said, “We’re safe. No one ever
comes in here at night. Besides, they’re all too drunk to even walk this far back without
falling over. We’re fine.”
Young Carl smiled and kissed Victor on the lips. “Close your eyes,” he said.
“And when you open them, I’ll only be wearing the scarf.”
While young Carl removed his clothes, Victor kept his eyes shut. He reached
forward to grab young Carl’s naked legs a few times, but young Carl pushed his hand
back each time. When he was naked and the scarf was around his neck, he said, “Now sit
back in the middle of the seat and spread your legs apart. We’re going to embrace
coitus
.” Then he laughed so hard he almost fell sideways. Carl and Victor had read a bad
gay novel once that poorly described a lovemaking scene with two men having what had
been described as “embracing coitus.” It had been written by a self-indulgent writer with
very little experience when it came to gay love. Ever since then, they joked about the
phrase.
Older Carl covered a smile with his palm. One of the things he’d always loved the
