HER | ✓

⍣Eighteen⍣

Christmas morning finally came. Everyone gathered in the living area with their coffee mugs full of hot chocolate or coffee. It didn't feel like Christmas though. It felt like any other day for the Jones' household, aside from the tree standing in the corner, brightly decorated, and packed full of presents of all different sizes and colors. Some were shiney, some plain, some intricate, some even had bows. 

It didn't matter though. Farah kept her eyes cast downwards, refusing to let her eyes sway to Clayton. He sat in the chair farthest from everyone in the room. He didn't want to be in the presence of anyone and the grumpy, non-holiday like expression was enough to prove it.

Martha came into the room wearing a sunshine bright smile. He rolled his eyes. 

"Good morning everyone," she cheered. 

"Good morning," mumbled a few. Martha and Charlotte were the only ones in a good mood.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Harry said.

Charlotte dove for the presents under the tree and pulled out boxes of different sizes. She handed them to their respective owners one by one and everyone tore their presents open. Clayton received socks and underwear, no doubtedly from his mother, and he sat back and watched as everyone else opened their presents. He snuck a present in the closest a day prior for Charlotte. Some little gadget that lets you make pretend ice cream out of playdough. She got excited when she unwrapped it and he smiled.

Everyone chattered away and he was about to leave the room but George stood up and walked to the tree. His eyes were glued to his every move. George plucked a small box from the top branches of the tree. He hadn't seen the box before. Where did it come from?

"This is for you Farah," George said, kneeling down on one knee and smiling like a loon. "Will you, Farah West marry me?"

Martha shrieked. Clayton choked. And Farah? Farah was staring at the ring in shock. What the hell was happening? Clayton felt woosey. He couldn't believe George was still asking her to marry him. Even after what happened last night. It was as if it never mattered at all, George, utterly and completely devoted his whole life to her.

Clayton couldn't bear to hear her say yes. He was about to stand to leave but her eyes flitted to his. She stared for a moment and her face changed, like she saw something no one else could. She looked back at George for some time, running her hands across the beads on her necklace.

"Get on with your answer girl," Harry said, plucking a nut from the bowl on the table.

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What?" George asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." She stood, covered her face and ran from the room.

George snapped the box shut and glared at Clayton as he pushed his way past.

"I knew she wouldn't do it," Harry said like he always held the facts, and threw another nut in his mouth.

Martha stared blankly at the wall and held her hands in her lap. "My hopes for grandchildren were just flushed."

"Is George still going to be my dad?" Charlotte asked.

"I don't know sweetie. We'll see when they come back in here. Why don't you play with the toys santa brought you?" Martha offered.

"Santa isn't real."

"Um... Ok." Martha sat back, her eyes wide.

"I ain't sitting around waiting for the circus to come back," Harry said. He rose from his seat and hobbled off towards the kitchen.

Clayton sank back into the chair and stared at the blinking lights on the trees. He couldn't believe what was happening. He heard talking in the room above him, though he couldn't hear any words spoken. None until Farah yelled, "I can't do this anymore!"

Everyone heard that one. Martha looked at Clayton and he looked at her. Her face fell.

"Don't tell me you had something to do with this?"

He pressed his lips together. How could she know anything?

She sighed. "You don't have to say anything, your face says it all. I finally understand it, but I don't."

"Fuck ma," he breathed. 

Charlotte looked up at him from her pile of toys.

"Watch your mouth," Martha snapped.

"Sorry," he whispered, not just because of his foul language but because of everything he did wrong.

The stomping of feet came rushing down the stairs and Harry reemerged from the kitchen with a bagel in hand. George came in through the other doorway. His face looked troubled as though he were about to explode with information he'd rather not talk about. George's hand came to his hair and he pulled, turned around and paced back and forth.

Martha was alerted by his behavior and sat forward.

"I'm... I'm gay," George said. He stopped pacing and looked everyone dead on.

"Come again?" Harry said, taking a step forward.

"I'm gay."

"Why you little bastard."

Harry dropped the bagel and it rolled across the floor as he lunged at George. Clayton leaped in front of his dad, struggling to keep him away from George.

"Let me get to that fucker. No son of mine is gay!" Harry fought to push past him. "Once I get ahold of you, you'll wish you never spoke of it!"

Martha cried. Charlotte sat in her pile of toys with her mouth to the floor. She'd never seen anything like what was happening. George still stood in the doorway, mute as a mime.

"Get off of me!" Harry spat at Clayton, still trying to push him away.

"Get out!" Clayton yelled at George. "Get the hell out!"

George gave him a sorry look, and went back upstairs.

"He didn't look happy," Charlotte said.

He felt it was safe to let his father go and the second he did Harry pushed him into the wall.

"Don't you ever keep me away from him again!" Harry's jowls shook and he slobbered like an angry dog being kept from its meaty meal. His face was beet red and Clayton imagined smoke rolling from his ears. Harry turned on his heels and went after George. He didn't bother to follow figuring George was locked in the room by now, safe from Harry until everything settled. Plus Clayton needed to console his mother's aching soul. Some things were more important than others.

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AN: Woowee momma, this was some Christmas Day... The next chapter is coming right up.

•Thanks for reading!•