"On the first day of Christmas, I got a Gerarrrrd," trilled Frank, wrapping his hands around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. I rolled my eyes and sipped my delicious coffee, letting the life-giving liquid slip down my throat and relishing its warmth.
"On the second day of Christmas, Santa Claus gave to me, two pretty kitties, and one beaut-i-fuul Gerard!" As if sensing that he was singing about them, our two cats, Pumpkin and Boo, began to twine around my legs, purring at the volume of a helicopter.
I snorted and turned my head a little so I was facing him. "That's not how the song goes, you know," I informed him.
He smiled and replied, unperturbed, "On the third day of Christmas, Santa Claus gave to me, three tasty fruitcakes, two pretty kitties, and one beaut-i-fuul Gerard!"
I wrinkled my nose. "Fruitcakes? What the fuck? Since when have those been tasty?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Boo wrinkle her little pink nose, too. Not surprising. Nobody likes fruitcakes. Another thought hit me. "And since when do we have fruitcakes?"
Frank giggled and kissed the tip of my nose affectionately. "You're a fruitcake, you know. So am I. And Pumpkin, too. He's a complete fruitcake." I just sort of stared at him. "It's such an amusing word, isn't it, Gee?" He grinned and I poked his face. He pecked me on the lips and flounced away, singing, "FRUITCAKE NAVIDAD, FRUITCAKE NAVIDAD, FRUITCAKE NAVIDAD, prospero año y Felicidad! I wanna wish you a merry Christmas
..from the bottom of my heeaaarrrt
Groaning, I took a last, mournful swig of my coffee and set the empty mug in the sink before walking over to the fridge to scavenge for food. Nothing.
Frank was waltzing through the living room now, I could see him in the mirror mounted on the wall.
"Hark how the cakes, sweet fruity cakes, all seem to say, throw diet away, Christmas is here, bringing good food to young and old, meek and the bold, ding dongy dong, that is their song, lalalala I forget the wordssss, ooooohhhhh how something something alalala ding dong dong BOMMMM!" Frank was terribly off tune, but nonetheless a small smile crossed my lips.
I spun around and said, "Come here, you!"
He stopped in the middle of a weird dance step and looked at me wryly. "You would think you would know my name by now, Gerard."
I stuck my tongue out at him and literally swept him off his feet, gathering the small bundle of warmth that was Frank into my arms, twirling once before setting him down and waltzing with him across the beige carpet of our apartment. He laughed and I remembered the song, it was like silver bells in my ears. It was Christmas Eve after all, why not get in the spirit? I may not always be the most enthusiastic about the holiday, but I'm certainly no Scrooge, either.
I don't even know how long we danced, whirling infinitely, but when I was about to collapse from exhaustion, Frank accidently smacked into the fireplace and hit my iPod, which stood on the mantelpiece. The tiny device was sent crashing to the ground, and I don't know exactly what happened, but the ground must've made contact with a few of the buttons, because the Trans-Siberian Orchestra version of Carol of the Bells started playing. We both stopped and exchanged looks that said, "Is this a coincidence?"
I pulled Frank down onto the couch and he lay snuggled on top of me as we listened to the tempo grow, and out of instinct I suppose, I started to sing along to it, practically shouting over the crazy music. Frank smiled and hummed softly along, until the song ended. I replayed it and we lay there, just listening and pausing life for a while, until the song ended. Almost as soon as the last chord of guitar was played, someone knocked on the door.
Puzzled, I got up, and walked over to the door. Looking through the peephole, I saw it was Mrs. Nairebis, a very kind old woman who was foreign, but nobody really knew where she was from. Even more perplexed, I opened the door and greeted her politely. "Hello, Mrs. Nairebis. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, fine, dear," she said in her thick accent, so that it sounded more like, 'Ee'm foine, foine, dare.' "But I didn't come over here for you to fuss over my health. I came to give you and Frank a Christmas present!" I couldn't help but smile at how she said 'Freonk' instead of Frank.
"Oh, you're too kind! Thank you!" To be honest, I didn't know what this present could possibly be. She thrust a medium sized box, wrapped in shiny silver paper, in front of me. I took it and asked, "Um
what is it?" I turned the box over in my hands, or at least tried to. It was kind of heavy.
"Open it and find out, dear! I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas!" Then she turned and hobbled back to her flat, leaving me with the present.
Frank was suddenly behind me, and he murmured into my ear, "What is it?"
"I don't know," I answered. Curiously, I pulled at the sparkly wrapping, revealing an old fashioned bakery box. Yum. Food. I opened the top and stared in complete astonishment at what lay inside.
"FRUITCAKE!" squealed Frank.