Page 10 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“No, I mean… I remember how I left and… Joel, what I did, ghosting like that? It’s not how friends should treat each other.”
“Glad we sorted that out.” Joel said, shoving his hands into his jean jacket pockets and shrugging. “Now grab your tree and get out of here, man.”
Casey could practically feel the heat coming off Joel’s body. “You’re treating me like a stranger or, worse, like someone you hate.” Casey tried to calm his voice. He sounded shrill even to himself. “I know I didn’t keep in touch these last few years, not like I should have, but is this really how you want it to be?”
Joel blew a hank of dark hair off his cheekbone and swallowed audibly. He darted a glance back toward the store’s big, bright windows and eyed the goth girl he’d been counseling on the wreaths earlier. She appeared to be drawing a tattoo with a black Sharpie on one of the shepherds’ arms in the Blow Mold Nativity scene. Joel shook his head and sighed. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Well?” Casey pressed. In addition to the inches he’d grown in the last few years in New York, he’d also grown an even stronger spine. He couldn’t have survived the city if he hadn’t. And Ann had helped with that, too.
“No, this isn’t how I want it to be,” Joel admitted. His voice was drained of rage for the moment. “But I don’t know why you came here.”
“Whywouldn’tI come here?” Casey gestured around at the trees and the store. “My mom asked me to get a tree and some wreaths. I always came here before.”
Joel’s eyes hardened again. “I mean, yeah, sure. Come on over to Vreeland’s if you want a tree, or a Christmas cactus, or some icicle lights for the outside of your folks’ big, honking, new house, but otherwise…?” He licked his lips and sputtered, gesturing with his hands like Casey was a nuisance. “We were friends a long time ago. Now, I got nothing for you, man.”
Casey reached out, his fingers so close to touching Joel’s jacket, but he fell short. “Look, my mom said to go to Costco, but I came here instead.”
“And?”
“Can’t you see what I’m getting at?”
Joel shook his head. “No. I can’t.”
“I’m not here for a tree, Joel.” Casey shoved his hands through his hair; frustration and another stunted emotion stuck like shrapnel in his chest. “I mean, yeah, I need a tree. For my mom. But I came here to see you. I thought we…” He swallowed, his heart squeezing. He felt light-headed. “I hoped maybe…”
“Yeah?” Joel’s eyebrow went up again, and this time there was a glimmer of something less angry in his eyes. “You hoped what?”
“That we could hang, I guess. Like I said.”
“Hang. Youguess.” Joel shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Wow. What are we? Fifteen? Or are you slumming it?”
“Slumming it?”
Everything was pear-shaped. Casey had walked into some upside-down world where it was an insult to want to rekindle an old friendship. Where was the exit and how did he get out?
“Sure. Slumming it. You know, piss Daddy Stevens off by rubbing elbows with a proletariat like me. Isn’t that what you used to get off on?”
“I don’t understand.” Casey scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “You actually think… I mean, are you really angry that I’ve missed you? That I wanted to hang out with you while I’m in town for Christmas? That’s crazy!” Casey threw his arms wide. “What’s your problem, dude? Yeah, I should have stayed in touch, but this shit happens when people go to college.” He knew that wasn’t necessarily true—that he’d cut Joel out of his life to protect himself from heartbreak—but he couldn’t exactly admit that to Joel now if he wanted to revive their friendship. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.” Joel’s dark eyes didn’t look at all like mud anymore. They were cold and hard as stone. “I don’t want anything from you.” He stepped close enough to stab his finger against Casey’s chest. “Go to Costco and buy your mom a tree. Take it back to your fancy, giant house. Decorate it in gold-dipped fucking glass balls for all I care. Go back to New York. Become a hotshot lawyer, or whatever you’re going to be, and get on with your life. Me? I don’t fit in with you, Casey. I never have, and I never will.”
He brushed past, stormed toward the parking lot, and climbed into a beaten down old, gray Chevy. The goth girl from inside came running out after him, shouting for him to wait as he started the truck and drove away, but it was too late. She and Casey stared after Joel until his taillights disappeared around the bend.
“Well, crap. I guess I have to close up then,” she said, shoulders slumping. “I hate when he does that.”
“Sorry.”
“Why?” she asked, snapping her gum and shoving her black hair behind her ear. “Is it your fault he left?”
“I think so. Yeah.”
Her blue eyes sharpened, and she smiled with a gleam of interest. “Really? What did you say to him?”
“Nothing much. I asked if he wanted to hang out. We used to be friends, but…apparently we aren’t anymore.”
She laughed. “Don’t sweat it, dude. Mr. Frosty Pants doesn’t like anyone, really. Or at least he likes to pretend he doesn’t.” She shoved up the sleeves of her sweater, revealing what appeared to be a drawing or a tat of a bat wearing a Santa hat on her left forearm. For her sake, Casey hoped it was just a drawing. “I’m sorry if he was rude to you. Normally he’s pretty great with customers. He saves his assholery for his employees and friends.”
“Maybe I rank as a friend after all.”
