homeless shelter. Though there were a few lines at the corners of Victor’s eyes, he hadn’t
changed at all. His straight dark hair was still thick and parted on the side, his face was
still smooth and clean, and he still had a deep cleft in his strong, square chin. He was
wearing a white dress shirt and jeans. The shirt was tailored to fit and the jeans were snug.
From what Carl could see behind the desk, Victor still had the strong, muscular thighs of
a football player and his chest was still bulging with hard muscle. He’d never been the
pretty-boy, male model type. But he was still all man.
Hanging on the wall behind Victor’s desk was a collection of presidential
photographs. They were in small gold frames, and all the presidents were there, ending
with Barack Obama. Carl smiled again. Victor had been collecting these photographs
since he’d been a teenager. He’d always been extremely patriotic, with complete love and
trust for the office of the president, and absolutely bipartisan.
The casual expression on Victor’s handsome face hadn’t changed either. It looked
as if he were ready to lift his arms and catch a football. Carl’s stomach jumped and his heart started to beat faster. He wanted to sit down on Victor’s lap and wrap his arms
around his shoulders.
Victor stared at the wall in front of the desk; he didn’t look at Able or the tea
woman once. He slid the chair back and said, “I’m going up front to get my coat. I left
my cell phone in my pocket and I have a few contacts in my phone I can call. Maybe I
can come up with someone willing to donate some money at the last minute. If not, I’ll
figure something out. I’ll call the market and charge the turkeys to my own credit card if I
have to.”
Able threw out his right arm. “Don’t get up, Mr. Briarwood. I’ll go get the phone.
What does your coat look like?” He seemed almost too eager to help Victor.
Victor smiled. “I can get it myself, Able. I know my way around this place better
than my own apartment.” Then he stood up and reached for a thin, white folding cane.
When the white cane was in his right hand, he tapped the floor, then tapped the side of
the desk, and took three steps forward.
Able and the tea woman leaned into the wall so they wouldn’t be in his way. Able
stared at Victor’s feet and said, “We’ll walk out to the kitchen with you, Mr. Briarwood.
I’m sure there are more dinners ready to serve now and we’re shorthanded as it is.”
Carl watched Victor slowly navigate his way around the small office. His head
was high and his eyes focused straight ahead. Carl knew white canes were used by people
with vision problems. He slumped forward and said, “He’s blind.” Carl’s voice trailed off.
“I’m afraid so, Carl,” Helena said, smiling and tilting her head.
“I was so focused on seeing him again after all these years I didn’t even notice.
When did it happen?” He watched Victor leave the room. Victor stood straight, without wavering, creating the illusion that it was all so simple. Even without his sight, Victor
was still the strongest man Carl had ever known.
Helena ran her fingers down Carl’s arm and sighed. “When Victor arrived in
England more than fifteen years ago, he rented a small car at the airport so he could drive
to his new school. It was a small university, affiliated with a school here in the United
States, in Wroxton, England. Victor had never driven on the left side of the road. It was a
dark, rainy night; Victor missed a turn and wound up driving off a cliff. He almost died
and was in a coma for more than six months. When he regained consciousness, he was
blind. He blamed his father for everything, and never spoke to him again. He gave up his
father’s money and his inheritance and never went back to Briarwood Manor.”
“Why didn’t he contact me?” Carl asked. “He knew I was in school. I would have
gone to England. I would have gone anywhere for him.”
Helena shrugged her shoulders. “In the beginning, he was both bitter and helpless.
He didn’t want you to see him like that. He didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. It took
him years to learn how to live as a self-sufficient blind man. First he remained in England
and learned how to live with his disability. Then he moved to San Francisco and got a
degree in social work. By the time he was ready to contact you, you had dropped off the
face of the Earth. He tried contacting Donna Fratelli, but she was dead by then. You had
moved to New York and had started working for Marty Keller.” Then Helena sighed and
patted his arm. “When you decided you didn’t want contact with anyone from the past,
Carl, you cut everyone off and made it impossible for anyone to contact you.”
Carl lowered his head to the floor. “So that’s why he never wrote. That’s why I
never heard from him again.” He sat down on one of the office chairs and put his head in his hands. All those years he’d spent feeling sorry for himself had just exploded in his
face. He’d never even considered the idea that Victor could have been hurt.
A moment later, Carl stood up and ran into the dining room. He wanted to see
Victor again. He didn’t care if he was blind.
He was still in love with him.
Victor stood with a group of people near one of the speakers. They were singing
the same Christmas song that the pianist had been playing the last Christmas Eve that
Carl and Victor had spent together. It had been the last song they’d heard before they
went outside to make love in the back seat of Mr. Briarwood’s old car. Victor had called
it their “Christmas Love Song.”
The people around Victor were laughing and swaying back and forth. Able’s
mouth opened wide and his deep voice rose above the others. Victor’s lips were moving
and he was singing along with them. But he wasn’t laughing and his body wasn’t
animated. While the song filtered and echoed through the room, there was a heart-rending
smile on Victor’s face, and one small tear rolling gently down his right cheek.
Carl stood there watching his lost love sing. He couldn’t stop thinking about how
different his life would have been if he hadn’t become so bitter as such an early age. He
wanted to put his arms around Victor, but he couldn’t. He wanted to hold him and guide
him through the rest of his life with his eyes. But all he could do now was watch from a
distance. He sniffed back a few times and swallowed hard. He didn’t even know there
was a tear sliding down his cheek until it hit his bare shoulder.
Helena walked up to his side and said, “It’s time to go now, Carl.” Carl shook his head. “If I fought you and insisted on staying, would it matter?”
She squared her shoulders and reached for his arm. “I’m afraid not, Carl. Let’s
go.” She squeezed his arm. “But don’t be sad for Victor, or anyone else in this room.
They may not have money and power like you, but they are all happy tonight.”
He faced her squarely and lifted his chin. He asked, “Then why is Victor crying?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he’s remembering the past.”
Chapter Ten
After they left the homeless shelter, Helena brought Carl home. But she didn’t
bring him to his bedroom so he could go back to sleep.
When Carl opened his eyes and saw it was morning, he frowned and said, “I don’t
understand. You’re supposed to be the Ghost of Christmas Present. I don’t celebrate
Christmas. Why on Earth would we come back here to watch
me
?”
Helena laughed and pointed to the bed. “This year you will celebrate, trust me,”
she said.
Carl focused on the bed, where he saw the image of his own body. Standing in the
shadows and looking at himself this way felt weird, almost sinister. He was on his back
with the covers pulled up to his chin, sound asleep. Carl shrugged his shoulders and said,
“I’ll probably just sleep later than usual, then go down to the shop and reorganize a few
shelves. There’s always something to do down there.”
While Helena folded her arms across her chest and smiled, Carl heard loud
knocks coming from downstairs. He looked at the bed to see how his image would react
to someone pounding on his door so early in the morning. The image of Carl that was
sleeping in the bed bolted forward and rubbed his eyes. Then he climbed out of bed,
crossed the room, and opened the window. “Why are you knocking on my door? The
shop is closed.” Invisible Carl raised his eyebrows and crossed to the other window. He looked
down and saw an older man in a dark suit looking up. There was a black SUV limousine
parked at the curb. The back door was open and there was a driver standing next to it.
The man in the dark suit shouted, “I want to buy that chair in the window. The
one with the zebra skin upholstery. I’ll pay full price, too.”
Invisible Carl looked at Helena and said, “I’m shocked. This has never happened
before. No one has ever knocked on the door, on Christmas morning, begging to buy
anything
.”
Helena laughed. “I told you, Carl. This year you do celebrate Christmas.”
The image of Carl shouted, “I’ll be right down. I’ll open the shop for you. Just
give me a minute to get dressed.”
Invisible Carl watched all this with an amused expression. He saw his own image
close the window and run for his clothes. His penis was semi-erect. It bounced and
flopped while he put on his pants. When he fastened his pants, he had to force his penis in
and pack it down with his other hand so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper. He put on
his socks and shoes in record time. He buttoned his shirt so fast he knocked a lamp off
the dresser with his elbow. And in less than three minutes, he was pulling his tweed
jacket over his shoulders while running down the staircase to open the shop for the
customer.
Invisible Carl smiled at Helena. “I had no idea I could get dressed so quickly.”
Then he asked, “Are we going to go down to see what happens? I’m curious to see if I
actually do sell that chair. I knew I’d sell it eventually. But I never dreamed I’d sell it in
one night.” Helena reached for his hand. A moment later, they were standing in Carl’s shop
and he was watching his image slide a platinum credit card through the machine. While
the man in the dark suit waited to sign the receipt, the driver pulled the zebra skin chair
out of the front window and packed it into the back of the SUV limousine.
While invisible Carl watched all this, he pressed his palms to his cheeks and
stared in amazement. He kept saying to Helena, “I can’t believe it. I didn’t even get a
chance to torture the woman who owns the tearoom. I wanted her to at least see the chair
in the window for a few weeks. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Marty Keller
would have had a heart attack and dropped dead on the spot.”
Then Carl watched his image hand the man the receipt from the processed sale.
He leaned over and read the receipt. The man had paid full price: twenty thousand dollars,
plus tax. He signed the receipt, smiled, and said, “Thank you for opening the store like
this on Christmas Day. I’m not fond of dead animal skins myself. Frankly, I don’t even
like looking at them. But I’m giving this chair to someone who collects these things and
he’ll be thrilled.”
The image of Carl smiled and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate
your business. Please come back again soon. My merchandise is always changing.” Then
he smiled and said, “And have a very Merry, Merry Christmas.”
Invisible Carl laughed. “Look at me go,” he said. “I’m so happy about selling that
chair I’m wishing him a Merry Christmas, too. I haven’t wished anyone a Merry
Christmas in years.” Carl bent down to look at his image’s crotch. “I can’t see anything.
But I’ll bet I have an erection.”
Helena smiled and said, “Take my hand, Carl. It’s not over yet.” In seconds, they were out of Carl’s shop and standing in the dark hallway of a
place that Carl knew all too well. He didn’t want to be there; his stomach began to rumble
and turn. The walls were painted black and the floors were brown tiles. The only sounds
he heard were deep whispers and shuffles, and the air smelled thick and musty. This was
the regular bathhouse that Carl frequented whenever he was tired of masturbating alone
in his bedroom. He met men there for casual sex that required no emotional investment
whatsoever. He didn’t go there often. But he always went on Christmas Day because
there was nothing better to do. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, he went there