Julia

Let's see.  Morning blend, french vanilla, hazelnut, mocha swirl, espresso, cappucino, Americano, macchiato, pizzicato, parmigiano, John Leguizamo... and pumpkin spice.  Okay.  That's the first row.  Six more to go. 

It was ten minutes till twelve, and I stood in the staff room, chuckling nervously to myself, trying to weed my way through the Keurig pods available.  All I wanted was a cup of decaf- but I couldn't for the life of me settle on which flavor I desired.  There were fifteen decaf choices, after all- and that wasn't even counting the tea selection.  In the end I resorted to chance, waved my hand in the air and pointed at a random flavor. 

"Kona Blend," I read to myself.  "One hundred percent certified Hawaiian coffee beans.  Riiiight."

Humming "Mele Kalikimaka", I tucked the chosen pod into the machine and lifted my shaking hand to start it brewing.  I never drank decaf, as I'd always thought it defeated the purpose of drinking coffee in the first place.  But I was already so nervy and wound up that a cup of regular coffee might have sent me into hyperdrive, and anyway I needed an excuse to get out of my glass office and hide away for a moment, on the off chance Freddie might have actually meant what he said.

From the moment I drove away from the house that morning, I had been assuring myself that I had no reason to be so worried.  Freddie wouldn't waste his time learning how to do something now that he could have, and should have, learned how to do years ago.  I had heard somewhere that he had one driving lesson in the early seventies that lasted five minutes, before his patience ran dry- and he quit, just like that, never again to fill the driver's seat.  And for all his life, Freddie relished the luxury of being driven around.  Besides, the chances of that willful diva, especially considering his age and how set he was in his ways, suddenly allowing himself to be taught something so superfluous were incredibly slim.

But Freddie was also a man of his word... and he said, "See you at noon."

How final, how frightfully absolute, Freddie's tone had seemed.

And the hands on the staff room clock only would only move ten more ticks before meeting under the twelve!

Teaching him in itself wasn't the issue, you understand.  I'd seen enough of his little tantrums and heard enough bitchy comebacks to cope with them, and even assuage them at times.  It was what I had promised him in an overconfident moment- and how someone like Freddie could interpret something as dangerously vague as "That, and more"- that churned my stomach.

He's not coming, I told myself once again.  Calm down.  No one likes a nervous counselor.  As nice as it would be to see him, he's not going to let me teach him to drive.  He may be gone tomorrow anyway.  What difference is one afternoon going to make- one they'll crebinate in twenty-four hours?

"Oh, hi, Julia!"

The voice disrupted the one in my head, startling me.  I whirled and automatically greeted Antonio, one of my fellow counselors, with a "Hello!"

"Daydreaming again?" he teased.

"Just a little," I shrugged.  "It's been pretty quiet today, hasn't it?"

He rolled his eyes.  "I know, right?  It's been like a tomb around here this week.  I'm like, Oh, my God, I cannot deal."

I obviously wasn't alone in the staff room.  A couple of my coworkers were grouped around the table, feasting on takeout paninis and sushi.  Watching them eat was making me even hungrier; in my infinite wisdom I had failed to pack a lunch for myself even as I put one together for Danny.  While most of my compadres preferred to venture off-campus for their food, more often than not I chose to bring a sandwich from home, something that occasionally earned a bit of teasing- not that I minded-

My eyes widened. Oh, yes, that was right!  Stuart and I had a lunch date today at that local Vietnamese place.   What with the weekend's insanity, the whole thing had practically slipped my mind.  When was he going to pick me up again?  I tried to remember- but once I did, I gulped. 

Oh, right.  At noon.  The same time Freddie said he would arrive for a driving lesson. 

I drew a heavy sigh.  Was I just trying to set myself up for catastrophe?

If I'm lucky, he's not going to show up, I told myself with fingers crossed.  Strangely enough, I didn't even specify for myself who I meant by "he."  I suppose I figured it was understood.

Once the Keurig had fixed up my genuine Hawaiian decaf, I moved out of Antonio's way and let him browse the Starbucks pod collection. 

"I don't know why we have to even be here for finals week," Antonio complained.  "It's been so slow and boring all day."

The women at the table agreed, and once complaints had been voiced all around as to why couldn't the head of the psychology department have made this week "Casual Clothes Week,"  they started chatting with him about the trending topics.  I didn't join in, nor was I invited to at first, but that was no shock; since we had no Netflix, cable, or socials (with one exception: we had an anonymous Facebook account that Danny and I shared, used solely to check up on family and friends every now and then), I was blissfully ignorant of most pop culture, so I typically had nothing to add.

"You see those pictures?" Antonio suddenly asked us all as he idly stirred his peppermint mocha latte. 

I shook my head, confused.  But the younger of the women, Sasha, nodded and said, "Like, they're so fake.  It's obvious."

"Yeah, but it's still fun to read the comments," the older one, Kate, chimed in.  "Some of those fans are just cray-cray, they actually think they're real."

"Like, have they never heard of Photoshop?  Or memes?  Or edits?" Sasha scoffed.

"Same people who think Elvis is, like, still alive in a spaceship somewhere, probably," Antonio giggled. 

"Or that, like, aliens landed in New Mexico."  Kate made the hashtag symbol with her fingers.  "#Samepeople."

We laughed- but in the back of my mind, for some reason, I was intrigued.  Pictures of what?  Before I could ask, though, they kept on joking around. 

"Newtown was a fake.  #Samepeople," Sasha said, rolling her eyes.

"So was the Mars landing.  #Samepeople," Antonio added.

Kate laughed.  "And the moon landing, too.  Oh, and 9/11 was Bush's fault.  #Samepeople." 

Antonio frowned.  "Hey, now those two I'm actually pretty sure were-"

"What's going on again?" I interrupted when I couldn't stand it anymore.

Antonio shrugged.  "Just a bunch of pictures and stuff, some weird hoax that started up yesterday.  It's in the top 20 of trending hashtags already."

I took a sip.  "What is?"

Kate went on over me, "But why him?  Why not, you know, Prince?  Or Michael Jackson?  Or John Lennon, even?  They're so much better.  Why this guy?"

Antonio grinned, scrolling through his phone.  "Cause he's hotter.  That's why."

Sasha giggled, peering over his shoulder.  "#Antonio'sdreambae-  Oooh, yeah, I like that one, too.  Mmm.  Send that to me, would you, I want to make it my home screen."

Before my suspicions (and confusion) could rise to new heights, the receptionist's head appeared in the open doorway.  "Mail's here, everyone."

I was the only one who moved to go check my mailbox; everybody else stayed behind, tittering about hashtags and Antonio's new crush.  The last thing I heard was Antonio oohing softly about "that ass" while Sasha squealed in agreement.  It was a strain not to roll my eyes.

At least when I marvel at a man's body, I keep it to myself,  I thought.  I don't go on and on about it in the staff room, of all places. 

And just like that, I found myself remembering this morning.  Not what was said last, but what I did first.

At a few minutes before five o'clock, I had awakened on my own to find my arms wrapped around Freddie's chest, holding him close to me, my head actually resting on his shoulder.  My eyes popped wide open- and I no longer needed Modo's alarm.  But I didn't ask for Modo to cancel.  I had other things on my mind.

Though my heart had seemed suddenly shot full of adrenaline, and first impulse was to throw the covers back and fly out of bed, I took my time peeling myself away from Freddie; after all, I didn't want to rouse him and have him find out I had slept so sweetly curled up against him.  That would not have made our situation any easier.  

I had tried to slide my hand off of him, my fingers trailing through the hair on his chest, moving slowly so Freddie wouldn't notice.  I had only dragged it halfway across when it stopped and traveled no further.  I made a couple of futile attempts to get it moving again, but my hand was perfectly happy to stay where it was, situated right at the top of his diaphragm, rising and falling as Freddie breathed deeply. 

With a quiet little sigh, I then had propped myself up on my other elbow and looked at Freddie's sleeping profile.  That really was some wicked jawline he had; and those cheekbones were so pronounced that even in the dark they made his cheeks look hollow with shadows.  A contented little smile turned up the corners of his lips, the teeth peeping out ever so slightly even when he swallowed once in his sleep.  Wonder what he's dreaming about.

Suddenly I began to move my hand again- but back and forth, instead of directly away.  Funny, but I'd forgotten how soft it was, Freddie's chest hair. A coarser variety seemed to be what grew upon the chests of most men.  I didn't know if Stuart was the same, for he shaved his chest- and a very nice one it was, too, complete with a well-defined six pack.  All the same, I had to admit, there was something incredibly delicious about rubbing the hand across this untrimmed chest of Freddie's.  It set thoughts, old thoughts, to stir- and my insides to writhe. 

I knew I should have jerked away by this point, gone about my business, but I kept laying there, kept thinking about how curious it was that after ten years, here he was again, right beside me, near enough to touch, looking as beautiful as he ever had, and why all of a sudden was I getting this increasingly intense urge to touch his forehead, cheeks, and mouth with my lips, and run this wayward hand down over his tummy, or maybe even a little further than that...

But before those silly, wandering, and very dangerous thoughts could gain enough ground to matter, Modo saved me, and I remembered myself.  I hissed for the alarm to mute before Freddie could hear it, and slipped out of bed immediately in case Danny should appear and catch us, making a beeline for my happy pills.  Never in my life did I think I'd ever be grateful for the way they suppressed my libido, let alone dependent on them for that reason as much as anything else. 

Having swallowed my reinforcement, I soon saw things in a clearer light.  It was no surprise to me that I should still find Freddie sexually attractive. That didn't mean I had to act on it, give in to the impulse- certainly not considering our people and places in life. Anyway, Freddie was just as through with me as I was through with him.  We had had our moment of madness, yes- a hot thirty hours of wild, sweeping emotion- but that was long ago.  We were older and wiser now, with better grips on ourselves. 

It could never happen again.

As usual, spam comprised ninety percent of the mail today; in fact, I almost tossed it all into the trash bin in one swift gesture when I saw the square blue envelope between the grocery store coupons.  I drew it out, looked at the return address and the "Royal Mail" stamp, and grinned, forgetting about Freddie for a second. 

I hurried back to my office and ripped open the Christmas card.  There it was, the big, beautiful clan in its glorious entirety. How they had fit such a crowd into one glossy picture and still managed to squeeze in a "Merry Christmas from the Deacon Family" along the bottom defied my understanding. 

I knew most everyone in the picture personally, thanks to the special week long trip Danny and I took to England every summer- but I couldn't help being partial to two people in particular.  I scanned the throng and found them right away.  There in the middle of their couple of great-grandchildren, the much more numerous grandchildren, and their six smiling children standing alongside their spouses, stood my forever saviors and Danny's biggest fans, John and Veronica.

I had five minutes until Stuart came by- plenty of time to sneak in a quick phone call.   So I grabbed my cell and dialed long distance.  True, we would be hearing from them tomorrow for our weekly video call, but I still wanted to tell them I'd received their Christmas card.

One, two, three rings, and a click, before a nasal, slightly apprehensive voice crackled through.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Deacy," I sang.

The voice immediately cheered up.  "Julia!  What a surprise!"  Another voice nearby said something I couldn't make out, but he replied, "Julia's on the phone."

Of course, that coaxed a happy jumble of syllables from Veronica's out of range voice, and the next thing I knew she and I were sharing a sweet little catch-up chat before John managed to wrestle the phone away from her again. 

"What's the occasion, love?" he asked.  "Some big news to tell?"

"Nah, not too important, I just wanted to hear your voice, let you know I got your Christmas card today."

"Ah, yes.  Quite a herd, aren't we?" John whistled through a sigh.

"A beautiful herd," I corrected him.

He just laughed.  "When are you sending yours?"

I chuckled.  "John, I haven't even decorated the tree yet, much less taken pictures for Christmas cards." 

I could almost hear him roll his eyes.  "That's all people do these days, is take photos and show them to the world and- and you won't even upload a profile picture."

"What can I say?  Social media is not my friend.  I'm a freak, and so is Danny."

He snickered.  "Well, I wouldn't go that far..."

Seventy-six and still a saucy old sass-ass.

"But then again, you know, even though I'm not the best at it, being the certified old man that I am-"

"Oh, stop that."

"Well, it's true!" he laughed.  But in the very next second, his voice took on a slightly more somber tone. "But I mean, my point is- if Freddie were, um- around now, he probably would be just as or more stubborn about it as you are.  Technology always did sort of escape him."

I hummed thoughtfully. "It sure does."

"Hm?"

I coughed.  "Oh, I didn't say anything."

He didn't answer right away, his mind was drifting elsewhere, perhaps to the past.  John often had these little faraway moments, especially whenever Freddie came up.  Even now, he missed him terribly.  The only way to deal with them, experience had shown, was to let John alone when they happened, and allow him to work through them.

But Freddie's alive now, I reasoned to myself.  He doesn't have to-

Oh, yeah. 

My flesh prickled as it finally hit me.

At this moment, I couldn't tell him anything, or else risk John either assuming I was being flip and then hanging up the phone in a rage, or suffering a massive heart attack.  One thing at a time. 

So I said, "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, if you need me to go, I can-"

"No, Julia, sorry, I'm fine.  I just- you know."

"I know."  I smiled.  "Look.  Would it make you feel better if I just sent you a picture of Danny and me via cell phone once we finish the tree tonight and put 'Merry Christmas' on the bottom?"

"I would love it."  His tone lightened.  "Oh, and before you dash off, I just thought I might put you on notice: your Christmas gifts are in the mail."

"Aw man," I said.  "Talk about spoilers!"

"I'm just telling you so you know what to watch out for, hopefully they'll get there before you go home for the holidays," he explained.

"I'm sure they will.  Since we're on the subject, did you get yours from us?"

"Indeed- which was completely unnecessary by the way," he added, with a half-facetious giggle. "Oh, and one more thing, which is extremely important: one of Danny's gifts is coming in an envelope- a green one.  Please don't let him tear into it, thinking it's a greeting card or something.  Save it for Christmas Day."

"Can do," I agreed.  "Thanks for telling me."  After a little more small chat, we hung up. 

And I hit my head against the desk. 

Why hadn't I thought of this before?

What was I going to do about poor Deaks?

A lot of people don't really understand how hard the former bass player took Freddie's death. That was one of the main reasons he clung to Danny and myself, I knew; for Danny was his dear friend's only child. How could I tell him- and at the same time, how could I possibly keep it a secret- that Freddie was alive, and living in my house, and would probably kill to hear from John or anyone else that was near and dear to him while he waited to be sent back to 1985?

"Oy vey," I muttered, putting my face in my hands.  "The hits just keep on coming."

Man.  I really had no idea.

Through the cracks between my fingers I saw someone was standing in the doorway- I just couldn't tell who.  I sat up, and relaxed upon seeing it was only the receptionist.

"You off the phone now?" she asked.

I nodded, smiling a smile that didn't last half as long as the next thing she said.

"Oh, good.  Because there's a man here to see you for some noon appointment, but I checked your calendar and you don't have anything set up then, so... what do you want me to do?"