Read Remembering Christmas for Free Online Page B

.”
    Actually, his name had been Chauncey, James recalled, but why ruin a good story?
    â€œAnd I said to James, right then and there, ‘That man is our Christmas present to each other.’ James, always the practical one, pointed out that Chance was Air Force, on leave, staying with his sister, and, it being Christmas, the motels were full, you know, no room in the inn. . . .”
    There were vacancies at every motel in Birmingham, but, again, the truth was rarely conducive to the creation of myth.
    â€œI pointed out to James that Mom-bo-la and Pop-bo-la’s room was ALL the way down a long hallway, and they were both heavy sleepers. . . .”
    â€œOh, God, you didn’t! Please tell us you didn’t!”
    â€œWe most certainly did. Several times, as a matter of fact. Though, it was a bit disappointing as Steve McQueen turned out not to be as impressive as hoped,” Alex said, using the universal hand signal for tiny dick. “And not exactly the man we’d expected.”
    Alex, as always, had his audience eating out of his hand, begging for more.
    â€œWell, Miss Helium Heels was an insatiable bottom, begging us to take turns, and God knows it was fun, until the heat of passion began to subside, and James and I realized that, unfortunately, Chance wasn’t as clean as one would hope a boy with his particular sexual needs would be.”
    â€œOh, God, stop! Stop! I can’t stand it!” the adoring chorus pleaded.
    Alex couldn’t be deterred, and, in fact, was encouraged by the slapping of the table and the gasping-for-breath, gut-busting laughter.
    â€œAnd I said to James, ‘James, we are just going to have to suck it up and get this room April fresh and Laura Ashley perfect before Mom-bo-la wakes up in the morning.’”
    James still recalled the panic striking his heart when he had emerged from the bathroom with an armful of towels and an aerosol can of air freshener and stood face–to-face with Mrs. Bedrossian standing in the hallway, modestly clutching her bathrobe at her neck as she politely inquired if James wanted some help. He thanked his quick wits for coming up with the plausible excuse that he had spilled a large glass of water on the comforter. To his great relief, she never asked why the crisis required a can of Glade Ocean Scent Room Freshener.
    â€œAnd, after we got that boy all cleaned up to send him on his merry way, why he wrapped a bath towel around his waist and plopped in the armchair, and started waving his foot, announcing he hoped we hadn’t finished because he was ready for some more. Just imagine that damn cracker, not having the good sense to stick his tail between his legs and sneak away in shame, luxuriating in my mama’s easy chair and telling us he wanted more!”
    Leo, of course, had heard this story a thousand times before, but it was still the obvious winner, as a tale of the sexual humiliation of a beautiful man was impossible to beat. After the hearty round of applause finally faded, and the tears of laughter were wiped from their cheeks, Leo stood and invited the group to the unveiling of his Cy Twombly, which had been set up on an easel beside the tree. Philip leaned over and whispered into James’s ear, asking if these exhibitions didn’t remind him of going to the showroom to look at the new Chevrolets. James was more forgiving, insisting he looked forward to the opportunity to view a great work of art outside the sterile confines of a museum.
    Armando was soliciting orders for after-dinner drinks, which James politely declined. He was already plotting an early exit, pleading his monumental trek across the Appalachians in the morning. The closest bathroom was occupied, and he waited a few minutes, hopping from one leg to another, finally deciding Alex and Leo would prefer he invade the inner sanctum of the apartment searching for available plumbing rather than pee all over their hardwood