Dance of the Fairies

Oliver threw his scarf around his neck, stepped off the train and walked along the platform at Boston’s South Station. He was surrounded by other holiday travelers pulling large suitcases, sporting heavy, overstuffed backpacks and pushing strollers with travel-weary children. He entered the grand concourse of the train station and scanned the expansive space. Even without the festive decorations in place, he admired this building for its artistic and majestic character deriving, in part at least, from its high ceilings, ornate chandeliers and expansive marble floors.

He found Jessica standing next to a display table perusing the latest paperbacks at the Barnes and Noble shop. She looked up as he approached and carelessly tossed the current John Grisham onto the pile of books. Oliver let his suitcase come to rest and dropped his shoulder bag to extend his arms for a welcome-home hug. Oliver squeezed hard around her back and lifted her off her feet.

“I’m back,” he said. “I’ve missed you so much!” 

“Me, too,” Jess said. “What are we doing first? Drop your bags? Drinks? Shopping?”

“Yes.” 

Jess adjusted his long tartan scarf. “You look great! Love the shoes. Can’t wait to hear all about the New York City boys whose hearts you’ve been breaking.” She hefted his shoulder bag onto her small frame and started walking to the exit. 

“Sorry to disappoint but my adventures in love will only take until the Uber arrives.”

“Slim pickings in New York?” Jess asked.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I haven’t even been trying. I threw myself into work when Jake and I split.”

“Okay, let’s argue about that over drinks. I’ll tell you how stubborn you were and you’ll tell me how immature he was and then we’ll order another round.”

“But, we can’t wallow in it too long  because I have a busy, holiday-themed itinerary for you. We have a lot to fit in before you venture out to the suburbs to face the family Christmas gathering.” She exaggerated the drudgery of a family gathering with well-executed sarcasm. 

“It’s not the gathering that’s the problem. It’s the feeling that my entire family, including our twelve year old, deaf Shi-Tsu, loved Jake more than me. When I get there, I’m setting a timer on my watch to see how long it takes before I hear his name mentioned.”

“Only you could screw up a relationship with Mr. February from the 2022 First Responders Calendar.”

They stood outside waiting for the Uber. “So, about this holiday itinerary you’ve arranged,” Oliver lifted his hands in supplication. “Are you really going to make me do those awful, common activities that everyone does at Christmas?”

“First of all,” she said, playfully poking his chest with her finger, “everyone loves skating on the Frog Pond. Next, The Nutcracker is a classic. And, most importantly, you promised me.”

“Fine. Drop the bags, get a drink, then shopping. In that order.”

#

Jake’s phone buzzed as he exited the gym in his workout shorts and tank top oblivious to the chilly December air. The text read, Am I picking up? He responded, No gonna run late. See you there. He shook his head. After working a twenty-four hour shift to help cover for a friend at Engine Company 37, he really wanted to stay in tonight.

After showering, Jake arrived at McGrath’s Pub only ten minutes late. He felt like a new man after following his daily ritual: clean shaven, hair combed, comfy jeans and a tee-shirt. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said to the guy at the table wearing an irritated expression. “Those cats don’t get themselves down outta the trees.” He smiled and pulled out his chair. “How did you know this was my usual table? That’s amazing.”

The pub flaunted a lot of wood. Wooden tables with wooden chairs. The bar was stained wood. Signs made of wood and imprinted with Irish phrases like Slainte. The wall behind the bar was littered with back-bar mirrors advertising various brands of beer, whiskey and rum as well as a collection of object d’arts selected by the bartenders because of some sentimental connection. Strands of colored lights illuminated the kitschy artifacts.

“Hey, Jake,” said the server. She looked at the other guy. “Steven, right? I remember you from last time.” She wore a necklace of tree garland and a Santa Claus pin that flashed. A Santa hat completed her ensemble.

“Yeah, hi. Thanks,” Steven said.

“The usual, please, Erin.” And, to Steven, “Again, I’m sorry. I was moving kinda slow at the gym.”

“It’s okay. I just feel funny sitting here surrounded by all this law enforcing, fire fighting, life-saving testosterone.” Steven gestured around the room as if Jake was not aware of his surroundings. 

“Jake, what’s good, my man?” A man patted his shoulder as he passed by the table. 

“No one here cares that you’re gay, Steven. Relax.”

From far across the room, “Yo, Jake!” Jake gave a quick wave to some distant fan.

Steven looked around in disbelief. “How often do you come here? Everyone knows you.”

“I like my routine. These guys are my friends. Sorry, and the women, too. Are you jealous? I wouldn’t blame you. I mean, some of these guys are pretty hot. But, they’re all straight so you don't have too much to worry about.” Jake’s chuckle did little to alleviate the tension present in Steven’s face.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you but doing it here is strange.” Steven leaned in closer. “It’s like we’re on your turf. I feel a little off balance.”

“Being here is like wearing comfy pajamas. It’s my ‘go to’ place. See that Charlie Brown-ish Christmas tree in the corner? It’s there every year with the same decorations, blinking and flashing its tacky little heart out. And those ceramic stocking hangers behind the bar – the N - O - E and L. By tomorrow, Erin will have switched it around to L-E-O-N just to piss off the bartender.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Steven said.

“About the Christmas decorations?” Erin returned with two tall beers. “Your Santa stopped blinking,” Jake pointed to her chest. 

Steven threw his hands up. “That! That, right there. Everything has to be just the way it's always been. You don’t like change.”

Jake shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “What?”

“You’re stuck, Jake. You aren’t growing. You’re not changing. You just go to work, go to the gym, see the same people, do the same things. Day in and day out. It’s like you are perpetually twenty-three. You’ve lived here your whole life. Shit, I mean, you’ve had one job since high school.”

“You think I’m stuck?” 

Steven put his hands up to pause the conversation. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to take our relationship to the next level. Are you ready for that?”

“The next level? What does that even mean? Like, move in together?”

“Well, yeah, that could be part of it.”

Jake saw Erin coming toward them carrying his bacon burger and well-done fries. He remained silent while she placed the dinners on the table. Jake raised his eyebrows and gave her a ‘it’s one of those conversations’ faces. She returned a wink.

“Honestly, Steven, I kinda like where I am. I have my own place, a good job and lots of friends. I don’t wanna rock the boat, you know?” Jake peeked under his bun to inspect the toppings. “Nice! Paco remembered to skip the onions.”

“Your life can’t stay the same forever. I’m ready to take the next step. If we don’t grow, we die. I’ll be right back. I gotta piss.” Steven stood and threw his napkin on the chair. “ Whether you want it or not, life is going to kick you in the nuts one of these days.” He strolled toward the bathroom.

Jake bit into his burger, indifferent to Steven’s mood and to the beefy juices drenching his fingers and palms. Erin appeared out of nowhere and plopped into Steven’s chair.

Jake looked up at her and smiled to indicate his satisfaction with the burger. Erin looked around before speaking. “What are you doing with that guy? He’s so…not you.”

Jake shrugged.  “I’m keeping it casual. You know me…I like my routine.” 

“Well, we are all in agreement,” Erin said.

“We? All?”

Erin motioned for him to look over her shoulder. His fan across the bar and the woman standing with him were both shaking their heads in disapproval. He gave a quizzical look.

“He’s not Oliver,” she said. “Enjoy your burger.” She stood as Steven returned to claim his seat. She told Steven, “He’s all yours.”

Jake dropped his burger, wiped his hands and face with a napkin that disintegrated immediately. His appetite disappeared when he realized the napkin might as well be a metaphor for his life.

#

After leaving Symphony Hall, Oliver and Jess decided to walk the short distance from there to her apartment. 

“You work too much. You’re avoiding people. There’s gotta be thousands of respectable guys in the city that you could hit up.” Jess took quick, graceful steps in her heels with her shoulders hunched and her chin buried in her scarf.

“I’m trying to make a name for myself. I can’t succeed in journalism unless I put my time in. To be the next Anna Quindlen or Barbara Kingsolver, I have to make sacrifices.”

She laughed. “Of course, you’d give examples of two women you admire. Maybe shoot for something more realistic. The Pulitzer Prize will always be there waiting; your soulmate may not be so patient.”

Turning the corner, Oliver and Jess walked along the tree-lined street leading to her apartment. Classic three-story brick row homes with ornate white trim around the windows occupied both sides of the street. The white-lit trees, wreath-adorned doors and evergreen garlands along the fences would have created a fairy tale atmosphere if it were not for the flashing reds and whites from the fire and rescue vehicles parked askew in the street. 

“Are they at your apartment?” Oliver asked. They quickened their steps to investigate.

Oliver and Jess stood at a distance behind a first responder who was bent over the gurney to secure their patient to the apparatus. “Mrs. Thorndike! Hey, I’m her upstairs neighbor. Is she okay? What happened?”

The paramedic looked over his shoulder and said, “She’s okay. Low blood sugar but –.” 

Oliver recognized Jake’s voice before he saw his face. 

Jake froze for a moment, turned back to his patient then back to Oliver. Still looking in Oliver’s eyes, he called out to his colleague. “Let’s get her in the box.” Behind Jake, the gurney and its patient wheeled away leaving the three of them looking at each other. 

“Hey, Jake,” Oliver said. 

“Okay, this is awkward,” Jess said. “I’ll just go check on Mrs. Thorndike’s chihuahua.”

“Hi, Oliver. When did you get into Boston?”

“A few days ago. I’m just killing time with Jess until my family’s Christmas thing. I figured you’d still be on the job.” Oliver did not mean for the remark to be hurtful, although it was Jake’s relentless pursuit of the status quo that precipitated their breakup. He regretted saying that as it left his lips. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, I’m glad you’re still here and doing what you love.”

“Yeah, it’s good. Listen, I’ve gotta get Mrs. Thorndike rolling.”

“I’m here for a few more days. Let’s get together. Same number?” Oliver sheepishly realized that he just transmitted the fact that he never deleted Jake’s number. 

#

Looking at his phone’s screen, Jake paced back and forth in his kitchen, which only allowed three paces either way.  He attempted to will a text message from Oliver to magically appear on his phone. He thought of Oliver and the rush of adrenaline that heated his veins when he saw him last night. His only thought of Steven was that he spoke the truth the other day. Steven was right about Jake’s life being in a permanent stasis. If he called Oliver, it could change everything. He could not have Oliver and his current life; they were incompatible. He dreadfully feared the upheaval associated with a new life of commitment. Butterflies danced and fluttered and trembled in his stomach just thinking about such turmoil in his life. No, it wasn’t the anxiety and uncertainty. It was just thinking about Oliver that caused his heart to race and his head to spin. 

“Screw it,” he said. He swiped up to unlock his phone and opened his contacts. 

His phone came to life before he found Oliver’s number. Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz. 

No name appeared on the screen. In Jake’s phone, Oliver was listed as two emojis in sequence: a tornado next to a red heart. 

# 

Oliver, phone to his ear, stood in judgment of the half-size, imitation, pre-lit Christmas tree as Jess hung Hallmark ornaments from its sparsely covered limbs. Mrs. Thorndike’s chihuahua supervised the work from the sofa, offering his critique with an occasional bark or a shake of the head accompanied by the tinkle of his jingle bell collar.

“He’s not answering. I told you. He’s afraid of –.” Oliver stopped. “Oh, hey, Jake.”

There were intermittent pauses in Oliver’s speech as he waited for Jake to reply.

“I thought we could get some drinks.”

There was a pause.

“Well,” Oliver looked at Jess, “tonight maybe not. Jess and I have –.” He watched Jess flailing her arms from across the room. “…wait a sec.” He muted the phone. “What?”

“Bring him to The Nutcracker tonight. He can have my ticket,” Jess whispered. 

“I was only going because you wanted to go,” he reminded her in an exasperated angry whisper.

“Won’t it be easier to not have to talk the whole time?”

Oliver nodded in understanding.

“Tonight’s good. I have tickets to The Nutcracker and Jess,” he looked back at her to see her fake coughing and giving her best miming performance at vomiting. “Jess isn’t feeling great.”

Longer pause than last time.

“Great, meet me at Will Call at seven.”

#

Oliver and Jake held flutes of champagne as they walked through the grand lobby of the Opera House. The walls were covered with crimson silk and 18th century murals filled the space between round marble columns. Grand chandeliers hung from the ornately sculptured ceilings leading to the curved staircase at the end of the cavernous hall. The staircase split into two around a central circular landing. Oliver started his climb on the left side of the central railing while Jake chose the right. Jake stopped, inconveniencing and displeasing a delicate Brahmin woman as he turned around, and followed Oliver up the left side. They made their way, side by side, to the Left Center Dress Circle seats which offered not only a smidge of privacy but also  a spectacular, unobstructed view.    

“I’ve never seen The Nutcracker,” Oliver said. “Jess was making me go because she thought I was too elitist to attend something so…cliché, I guess.” He sipped from his flute.

“You guess? She knows you better than anybody. I come every year. I’ll see it again with my mom and sis next week.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, you should’ve said something. We could have done something else.”

“No, this is fine, really. I’m comfortable doing something familiar.” Jake looked around the overly-decorated theater. “But, you knew that already.”

Oliver held his glass up higher and moved it toward Jake. “Here’s to being wicked stuck up,” he offered.

Jake met Oliver’s flute with his own and, with a clink, he said, “Here’s to being too afraid to grow up.”

The room darkened and the crisp musical notes of the Overture filled the air.

#

Jake absorbed the lush, expressive music of Tchaikovsy not only through his ears but also through the subtle vibrations that rippled through the theater's floor and seats. As he watched the fairy tale unfold, Jake experienced Clara’s sadness over her broken gift. He wondered if Clara still loved the gift as much as before it had been damaged.

Despite his initial avoidance, Oliver surprised himself with his rapt attention and genuine enjoyment. He imagined himself as the Nutcracker: safe high up on the shelf, a distinguished icon  looking down at the world. He remained out of reach from the harm of others, unwilling to be vulnerable and unworthy of being loved.  

They reflected on what they had lost by not taking a chance with each other. The magic of the story, combined with the visual and musical experience, conveyed vital messages to them about the directions their lives had taken. Jake, too afraid of change and loss,  stifled his growth and evolution. He realized that he was surviving, but not living. Oliver had abandoned any chance of receiving love and affection, thinking it could be replaced by respect and status. 

Separately, they were imperfect but, when combined, each contained the antidote for the other’s defects, creating a flawless union of souls. 

These realizations sparked an intense desire for action. 

As the final note played, Oliver and Jake stood with the rest of the theater-goers to deliver the well-deserved standing ovation. As the clapping subsided, Jake turned to Oliver with tears in his eyes. Oliver returned his gaze, put his hands on either side of Jake’s cheeks and leaned in closer. With their lips just inches away, they closed their eyes. The soft, champagne-infused kiss tasted like tart apple; its efferessence transformed into electricity that flowed through their bodies.

Eyes closed and still hovering in front of Oliver’s moist lips, Jake said, “I need to tell you something. I’m not afraid of change when I’m with you. You’re my prince, just waiting to come to life and show me a fairy tale world.”

Oliver replied, “I didn’t come to life until I met you. You make me feel like the prince I’ve always wanted to be.”

They kissed again.