Page 1 of A Little Christmas: Rivi
1
Rivi
Apurple unicorn nightlight glowed down the darkened hall. I tiptoed on the wood floor, trying to be quiet, but Mama’s door was ajar. A rustle of blankets froze me.
“Is that you, Rivi?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Everything okay?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Night-night, then.”
“Night, Mama.”
It was our routine five nights a week. I got off my job as a drink server at the local Indian casino at one-thirty. I always made it home by two. I hated that Mama waited up. That she worried. At twenty-one, I was grown man—even if I was rather small in stature. She shouldn’t have to worry so much. But she told me a hundred times, “You’ll always be my sweet little boy.”
Working at the casino was a good job when tips were flowing. Even though it was a small casino, not like one of those big cityresorts, when people won they could be generous. But there were slow nights, too, when I mostly hung out at the bar talking to the bartenders.
I pushed my thick glasses further up the bridge of my nose and headed for my room. I tossed my Shrek backpack on an easy chair by the window, unzipped the front compartment, and took out my cash tips for the night. At least half my tips went on credit cards and were added to my paycheck twice a month. But we were allowed to take the cash after every shift as long as we declared it to the manager.
I saved just about every dollar I made. Mama wouldn’t take rent from me, so I bought groceries, despite her shaking her head at me, and contributed to electric, water and trash.
What I had left over, I could save or spend as I wanted.
We weren’t poor. My Uncle Trent, Mama’s cousin or second cousin—I wasn’t sure—was very rich and when I was ten he’d bought her the house we lived in when my dad died. He came around at least once a month to visit and check up on us and said I should call him Uncle Trent. He sent her what he called “child support” even though I wasn’t his kid. Mama also worked part-time as a substitute teacher. She loved her job.
We were doing well. That was why I didn’t feel guilty when I bought some things I wanted just for me.
I straightened all the cash in my hand and put it in order. It was mostly ones. But there were some fives and even a twenty. And change. Tonight, I’d made seventy dollars and seventy-five cents in just the cash tips. That was more than average for the cash.
I walked to my dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Behind my socks I kept a Disney Peter Pan handbag I’d bought online. It was a woman’s purse, but I didn’t care. It was colorful with the most beautiful character art. I loved collecting Disney stuff. It made me feel like my insides were made of bubbles tolook at it all. Inside my Peter Pan purse was where I kept my cash.
I took everything out and counted it, adding tonight’s tips. I had over four grand in that bag.
My Disney collection was known to my mom. I bought a lot of it online. Plus, I bought all my electronics that way. But there were other things, secret things I bought with my cash that I never showed another soul. And I was getting ready to go on a shopping trip, an in-person one where no one would ever see the packages coming to me.
I stashed my money back in the purse and closed the drawer.
Quickly, I showered and changed into my favorite sleep onesie. On it were cows jumping over moons. I was small, but I didn’t quite fit into kids’ clothes. This was the largest onesie with feet I could find in person, and I had to teach myself to sew to adjust it so I could wear it. I added flannel at all the seams. It had turned out quite cute.
I only wore it with my door locked. Luckily, Mama wasn’t the prying type. She liked her own privacy, as well.
There were some things I didn’t hide. Mama knew I loved my squishies. The softer, the better. I mentioned they were simply extra pillows and made me comfortable to use as support on my aching bones after a long night at work. She had zero problems with that.
One was a hotdog. One was a Santa Claus. And of course there was the classic teddy bear. I hugged him to my chest every night and always went to sleep with a smile on my face. Or I imagined I smiled. And why not? I was happy.
Except for one thing.
Loneliness. I did not have a boyfriend. I never had. My fear was that this would be the reality of my whole life. Who would want me? I was too weird. Too shy. Too small. With glasses thathid my best features, my eyes. No one would glance my way even if I did get up the courage to go to a club or gay bar.
Being gay was hard enough. But I also knew from about age fourteen when I’d discovered porn and online fetish stores, that I was a little. And littles needed daddies.
Just the thought! A daddy, in my mind, was a big muscled tough guy who liked to dominate small twinks. I didn’t really go beyond that in my thinking because porn had been my teacher and that had been all about sex. Fake sex. If a boy actor wore a onesie and sucked on a bottle, it seemed to be played for laughs. I didn’t care to be laughed at.
My heart pounded under the covers as I hugged Ursula to me. She was another anomaly. What gay boy had a girl teddy bear? Well, I did. And it was not something I wanted just anybody to know. How would I ever bring that subject up on a date? I wouldn’t. Which meant I would have to get rid of the things I loved if I ever wanted a real boyfriend.
