It was the arrival of Smokey, who eagerly rolled his new *toy* back into the room where the tree was, stopping only to rub one of the ginger haired man’s legs, which made him in turn, stretch his hand out to pet the cat, that gave Rick the impetus to finally speak.
“Can I?” Rick kept his voice as quiet as possible.
“Yes, he rang off. You can get up now.” Horatio sounded so very far away.
The brunet complied; it didn’t take being a rocket scientist, he mused, to tell that the two of them wouldn’t pick up the way they had left off. Brushing some loose pine needles from his clothing, Rick began to figure out the best way to put the tree back in order.
“Sorry… I’ll be over there to help in a sec,” Horatio squared his shoulders unconsciously.
“No need for sorry. Stay put H; I can do this, okay?” Rick responded quietly, but his eyes were on the cat, which had not come near him yet, but chose instead to stay with the ginger haired man, looking at him with a look on his face that the brunet had never seen before, even at his old place.
“It’s a just a bit after 1:00AM, maybe…ah this is what I was seeking,” the brunet found the remote to the large, state-of-the-art, plasma screen television that hung in a very chic fashion on the opposite wall. “Don’t get to watch it very often...because of…work,” Horatio’s voice had a matter-of-fact tone mixed with another element.
“It’s a fine TV,” Rick said as he turned it on, his finger hitting one button that seemed to tune into a local channel. “De Kerkviering van de middernacht, Misa de gallo, Rick found himself slipping from one language to another, noting how the redhead cocked his head at the first set of words, as he nodded at the second set, which he had heard so often in his town. “From the Vatican, in progress too," the brunet continued as the music caught his attention.
“Yes, it is.” Horatio replied, almost barely giving his lover a whisper as his eyes and thoughts went swiftly towards the program.
The dark eyed man decided to give his partner this sacred space; this was Horatio’s religious territory, not his own, as he, like his family, were Episcopalian. It’s not too unfamiliar- we’ve always been High Church, Rick mused as while as quietly as he could, he worked on getting the tree back to some semblance of normality, yet all the while, he found himself glancing at his beloved as well as Smokey, who had not left the redhead’s side, indeed, the cat was studying the terrain and the distance between him and after making a quick judgment, successfully leaped into Horatio’s empty lap.
At first, the ginger haired man did not acknowledge his new feline companion, but as the cat seemed to move ever closer and rub his body against Horatio’s belly, Horatio looked down and began to accept the comfort that the animal was attempting to give to him.
Meanwhile Horatio’s thoughts, his very life, seemed suspended in time as the religious program continued. Of course, the service presented to him on the television was not the one he and his family had grown up with as little children, but certain things about it were all too familiar. Unconsciously, he wrapped his arms around his middle as a bodily memory of the biting cold that swept through one, despite the mittens, scarf, warm fur hat and deep warm coat that his mother insisted that they all wore when facing the coldness of a New York winter’s night. It wasn’t so bad-we wore winter undergarments too, Momma always washed them with baby soap powder so they would not itch, he caught himself in an inward smile.
It was a mixed treat to go to Midnight Mass; first, because it was one of the few times that they were allowed to go out at night as children; both of his parents had been unusually strict about that. Next, his mother, he always knew, was able to get a generous amount of money for new suits for him and Ray, as well as a new Sunday type dress for his mother, from their father. “Caines don’t go to Mass, especially Midnight Mass and Easter time, looking like poor church mice…” his father would say authoritatively, as he willingly doled out a generous supply of money for the event, which would mean new *everything,* from the skin out, haircuts and a trip to the beauty parlour for their mother, included, down to new dress shoes, which were gotten way ahead of time, so that they would be broken in and comfortable to wear for the special night, or day if something unforeseen forced them to go to one of the other Masses on Christmas Day in the daytime itself.
“Henry John,” as his mother would say more often than not, except in front of his friends, might have held the purse strings rather tight around the rest of the year, but never with things like church. He was tight with his presence though, a hard look appeared in the redhead’s azure eyes; as to the reason why. He’d say he preferred to go alone on his own, but in reality, he’d be holed up somewhere with his drinking cronies, way till nearly dinner time the next day.
I asked Momma did Dad ever really ever go to church and she said that yes, when they were courting and when they were first married… and for a short time too, after I was born, but somehow when I began to walk and that was early… he stopped going with her…with us.
Never gave any other explanation, except that he wanted to be alone, that the crowds of the cathedral that she liked so much bothered him- he would always claim that he preferred to go in the day time too, to a smaller church elsewhere, to the last service near noon time. Horatio set his lips tightly in a frown as he remembered this as a half-truth; most of the time, the old man would leave Christmas Eve day and wouldn’t be back until 3 or 4PM the next day, not staggering drunk, but his own blue eyes, which were exactly like Horatio’s own, would betray the amount of liquor, hard liquor such as scotch or gin that his father had drank during those sojourns away from home.
It was up to him and his mother, *Momma* he called her, to make the best of things for the family, especially for Ray. It was as a family, the three of them, went to Mass at night, all fresh faced with wonder and awe, especially Ray, who Horatio held by hand or stood right next to, nearly all the time, for dear life.
She looked out for us and I looked out for them in turn- he thought about how their little ritual before the cathedral got too crowded was to walk from statue to statue, lighting candles, kneeling and praying before the scene of the Manger and all of Momma’s favorite saints, we’d have the joyful mysteries of the Rosary done right before Mass- Momma had us practically first in line for confession too, there were always some religious about, a nun or two that she would entrust Ray to when he was too young to confess, when it was time for her or I to go, Horatio put a weary hand through an unruly lock of his hair at just the very thought.
“Sometimes, I don’t know how she found the strength to deal with it all…especially...” Horatio closed his eyes, then, opened them. Meanwhile, the television began to show the innovation started when Horatio was no longer a child. A procession of children, two or so from every country, usually a boy and a girl dressed in the traditional garments of their country, held the items that would be used later for the consecration part of the Mass. Each set of children would be blessed by the Pope as he took the items and put his hand on each head of each child, giving them a blessing.
The redhead did not grow up with this, but the few times he had watched this, it never failed to move him. For him, it would be remembering that when all three of them knelt at the altar rail, Ray would get the blessing until he was old enough to make his first communion. Horatio would remember his mother’s gentle face, graced with a lovely scarf, head down until they came to her, seeking out the Sacrament for strength to continue onward.
Onward…for her, but more for her good little boys, she would hold their hands even tighter at the rail.
While this tableau was being displayed, Rick watched in silence. He was getting worried; he thought that the religious program would give his beloved some much needed comfort, but the look on his face seemed otherwise. Also, Smokey kept looking at the redhead too, alternating between looking, snuggling further down into the comfortable lap and making tentative lickings with his tongue on Horatio’s hand, which Horatio responded to by gently stroking the comforting animal.
“All… all we had was each other and then…” Horatio whispered, but Rick only saw his lover’s lips move. “Why, Momma? WHY?” Horatio’s voice suddenly could be heard above the television. Rick heard this and before he could move to his lover, the ginger haired man had gently moved the cat to the floor. “I...I am sorry, Rick…” the redhead’s voice trembled as he left the room quickly, without a backward glance, moving unerringly away from him, going swiftly up the stairs; Rick heard footsteps and then an ominous silence as a door slammed shut.
