Page 31 of A Loser by Christmas
I’m definitely not invited.
I busy myself by checking that my camera is still running even though this phone conversation is more useless B-roll filler. Yet more evidence of him being careful about other people’s feelings. There’s no way I could use it to convince his club he isn’t a decent human being. I only look up when he asks, “What do you think, Valentin?”
A different bauble dangles from his finger, and I’m surprised into blurting, “C’est un oeuf.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “An egg with a Santa hat. Mum would get a kick out of it after the number of times I’ve called herabout ours.Yours,” he corrects himself swiftly. “She’s the reason I hunted down that incubator. When your egg finally hatches, it will be because of her advice and the care you’ve taken.” His head lowers. “Hope I get to see when it hatches.”
“Ifit does.” I can’t help touching that egg-shaped bauble to set it spinning. “Still don’t know if it will.”
“All the more reason to remember the good parts, yeah? Mum liked me calling her for help, and I’m pretty sure she’ll smile when she opens her gift to find this bauble. Really want to see that.” He clears his throat. “What do you think? Shall I get it?”
“For your mother?” I nod slowly at first, then faster.
“Cool. Do you . . .” His voice gentles. “You never mention yours. Your mum. Do you . . .”
Want him to get one for her?
I shake my head, and I know we’re surrounded by crowds full of mothers and fathers. By aunties, uncles, and grandparents aplenty. By beaucoup des enfants, all here to share their wish lists with whatever version of Père Noël fits their family. All I see is someone who has noticed an absence in mine, and not only at Christmas.
“Sorry,” Calum murmurs. “I didn’t mean to bring up something...” His forehead furrows, Calum fighting, I guess, to find the right words in the same way I’ve been fighting all week long to find a single flaw about him to show the world. He doesn’t seem convinced by the descriptor he finally comes up with. “Painful?”
That isn’t quite right for a feeling I’m not sure how to translate in either language I speak, but I nod while an egg spins on a scarlet ribbon. We’re tucked against a bushy tree covered in sparkling baubles. No one can see his free hand find mine. Calum gives it a secret squeeze. “It’s okay,” he promises.“You don’t have to tell me why. You don’t owe me a single explanation.”
But he wants one.
I see that as clearly now as when streetlight angels spotlighted how much he loves to see Christmas in this city. Now I get to see a broad Trelawney forehead creasing all over again, but Reece doesn’t cross my mind for a single second. Calum is my sole focus. And he’s the focus of my camera. I’ll have to delete this footage ASAP rather than play back his pity.
No.
Not pity.
For a second time while holding an egg, all he shows me is care. “Pretend I didn’t ask. Yes, I’ve been wondering. Trying to figure out what makes you tick when you’re?—”
“When I’m what?”
“When you’re nothing like I expected.” He repeats his promise. “You don’t have to tell me a single thing about your family.”
He’s right. I don’t. And I definitely should slip my hand from his to get back to recording every moment of his story, not mine.
Tell that to my clasping fingers.
They tighten, and so does my throat. “I-I could tell you...”
Calum smiles, and it doesn’t matter that his mouth barely moves. It reaches his eyes, telling me without words what tops his own Christmas wish list.
More of me.
Giving him that is scarily easy.
“I could tell you, but it might be simpler to show you.”
10
Doubts washin as soon as he heads off to pay for that bauble, a gift I wish he had shoplifted instead of joining a long queue to pay for. Those doubts rise the longer he waits in line. I’m knee-deep by the time he finally pays for his egg, and getting it gift-wrapped creates even more time for second-guessing.
I can’t help making a different, more hesitant, offer. “Actually, I-I could go flag down another cab for you.”
“For me?” Calum drags his gaze from the ribbon being tied around a gift he can’t wait to watch his mother open. “You just said you’d show?—”
