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“Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg!”
“Oh come on, Will. What are you, 7?”
“The Batmobile lost a wheel, and the Joker got away!”
“You better get some appropriate fucking Christmas spirit, or what’s the point of this?”
Tunny rolled his eyes at his two best friends walking ahead of him and wondered the exact same thing.
The three of them had been trekking through the forest — if you could even call it a “forest” since it was just a couple of acres of dense woods near their houses that hadn’t been plowed over yet — for nearly an hour. Sweat was pouring down Tunny’s back, and his prosthetic was starting to chafe his thigh, but he bit at his lip and refused to utter a word of complaint. He’d gone through boot camp, he’d fought in the desert, he’d lost a leg in combat. He could deal with a hike in the woods. Even though the entire thing was fucking stupid.
Somehow, Johnny had gotten it into his head that they needed a real tree to celebrate Christmas this year, since they had spent most of the year apart from each other and Christmas was the time for “coming together” or some shit. Tunny suspected it was some kind of convoluted logic on Johnny’s part that had to do with bringing them back together mentally like they had been before they’d gone their separate ways. Before things had gotten so colossally fucked up. Even though in the roughly two weeks they’d all been back in town, they’d repaired a lot of their friendship so it was almost as good as new. At least as good as could be expected.
But Johnny said it was because fake trees were “weak-ass, sell-out bullshit,” and the artificial one that his mom and Brad had put up the family room was so clearly not real that all the ornaments kept sliding off the limbs like they were trying to escape. Johnny said they needed a real pine tree for Tunny and Will’s tiny one-bedroom house (which was even more tiny considering Johnny usually slept on the couch in the living room while Will and Tunny were tucked into their catty-cornered twin beds in the bedroom). They needed reality, not more fantasy. They needed the fresh scent, the falling needles, the responsibility of watering it.
So, he’d somehow convinced Tunny and Will to venture out into the woods on Christmas Eve, Tunny lugging an ax they’d swiped from a home improvement store and Will toting a backpack full of beer. Or half full of beer and half full of empty cans at this point. Johnny had his phone out in front of him, using a compass app to try and navigate the forest that they hadn’t set foot in since they were about 12.
“Johnny, it’s going to get dark soon. We need to either pick a damn tree or call it quits,” Will whined, reaching his arm around to pull another can out of his backpack. “We definitely don’t have the nature skills to be trolling out around here without any light. We will die. Seriously.”
“We haven’t found the right one yet!” Johnny called out, moving further ahead until he was almost invisible behind the tree limbs and shrubs.
Will slowed his step to match Tunny’s, taking a swig of his beer.
“We have to talk him out of this. He’ll keep going for hours if we don’t,” Will said, handing an unopened beer to Tunny, who accepted it gratefully.
“You know once Johnny gets something into his head it’s nearly impossible to change his mind,” Tunny replied. “That’s why we always end up following him blindly into all his messed-up ideas.”
Will scratched his head and then dragged his hand down his neck. “Yeah, but he’s clearly not thinking straight, you know? Not since he got back.”
Tunny knew. They hadn’t really discussed it because Johnny liked to keep things inside, keep it all bottled up until he eventually exploded, which had only come out in bits and pieces so far. (Like when Will had made the mistake of asking if Johnny wanted to go to a local punk group’s show, and Johnny had blanched and disappeared for two days.) They didn’t know much or any of the details really, but they knew he’d gone through something big in the city.
They knew there was a girl and drugs and betrayal and a whole lot of hurt. But they didn’t talk about it. The same way they didn’t talk about Tunny’s time overseas. They were things to keep in the past; they belonged in the past, and neither Johnny nor Tunny wanted to think about them or the repercussions.
But Will was different. He’d always been different, in the best way. He wore his heart on his goddamn sleeve. He rescued birds when they were kids (nursing them back to health and giving them names before he set them free), he stood up to bullies when Tunny got pushed around in middle school before his growth spurt, he let Johnny crash on his couch for months after his mom married Brad. He was the heart to Johnny’s leadership and Tunny’s brains. He cared so much and so openly that it overtook him sometimes.
And Tunny could see those wheels turning.
“Hey man, we all dealt with some shit this year, OK?” Tunny leaned against Will’s side, half to show support and half because he was really starting to feel weak from overexerting himself. Either way, Will wrapped an arm around Tunny’s waist instinctively to hold him upright. “But we’re back together, the original trio. What else do we need?”
Will’s dark eyes stared back at Tunny, his eyebrows pinched together in concern and affection.
“We need something,” he replied vaguely, taking a sip from his beer as he slowed their step as they approached Johnny, who was standing still in front of a giant tree that was definitely not of the pine variety.
“Look at this beautiful motherfucker,” Johnny whispered, stepping forward cautiously to lay his hands against the trunk. Then he leaned forward more to press his face against the tree, almost caressing it.
Tunny and Will exchanged a confused and slightly worried glance because Johnny was acting really fucking weird all of a sudden and weird even by Johnny standards. Which were already set pretty high considering his inclinations toward acting completely fucking random.
“Uh, hey man, it’s cool, you know. We don’t need to cut down a tree to prove we’re men or anything,” Will said, patting Tunny against his hip to get his go-ahead.
“Yeah, totally,” Tunny piped in. “You know we’re fucking awesome. We don’t need to do this. I mean, who cuts down trees anymore except actual lumberjacks?”
Johnny snuggled against the tree more, singing “O Christmas Tree” softly. It was disturbing to watch, a 20-something plastered against a tree, wrapping his arms around the trunk with an almost desperate need. It could be funny if he was drunk, but he wasn’t. It could be almost cute if it was in his character to be a literal treehugger. But it wasn’t. Will and Tunny exchanged another look of desperation.
“Let’s go home, eh, Johnny?” Will tried, elbowing Tunny.
“We can open preeeeeeeeee-sentsssssssssss,” Tunny said, drawing out the words with a grin, hoping to capture Johnny’s attention. Johnny loved gifts, even if they weren’t for him but especially if they were.
Johnny shifted his weight against the tree, and Tunny knew he was considering it. They had to keep talking to hold his focus.
“Remember when we got lost out here?” Tunny asked, drinking from his beer and smiling fondly. “Summer when we were 12. We were trying to find the lost treasure of Blackbeard or something, right? Which totally would have been in the ocean, not the forest, but we didn’t care. We were going to find it. It was like three hours before your mom found us, Will.”
“Yeah, and she was fucking pissed, too. Especially when it turned out that we had gotten poison ivy. We didn’t walk through that shit again, did we?” Will suddenly looked down at his legs, sighing with relief when he realized he was wearing combat boots and jeans.
“But we had a blast though, right?” Johnny asked, his voice muffled against the tree.
Shaking his head and smiling, Tunny replied, “Of course, dude. We always have fun. We’re the three musketeers. We’re fucking golden. We’re the kings, and nothing can change that.”
There was a brief silence, and Tunny was considering pulling Johnny away from the tree himself, until Johnny turned around, his face red and faintly lined with the pattern of the tree bark.
“Let’s go home, lads.”
“Fucking finally,” Tunny said under his breath.
“We can get a live tree in the parking lot by the 7-Eleven, Johnny. At least it won’t be some fake piece of shit,” Will said helpfully, shifting his arm around so his hand was under Tunny’s armpit, helping him along the bumpy path back toward their car.
Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn-out hoodie, Johnny nodded with little enthusiasm. Tunny suspected he knew the whole thing had been pointless in the first place, but the realization was just hitting him at that moment. Tunny felt a pang in his chest. That distinct, inherit knowledge that one of his friends was in pain. He had felt it so many times while overseas that he had almost learned to ignore it, but the need to do something about it had been returning to him since he’d been back.
He nudged Will in the shoulder and indicated backward with his head, trying to draw Will’s attention to the deflation of Johnny’s stature. Will nodded, his lips curled down with worry, and his eyes questioned Tunny if he would be OK on his feet. (They’d been communicating through glances since they were 6, so it was basically a second language for them now.) Tunny just lifted an eyebrow, with a slight upward tick of his mouth in approval; Will clapped him on the back and then stopped to wait for Johnny as Tunny kept walking.
Tunny kept his gaze forward, focusing on the mile or so they had until they reached the entrance to the woods again. He knew he could do it. He’d done more, gone through more, and he knew he was capable of it.
Sometimes he regretted his decision to abandon Will in their town, to abandon Johnny in the city all those months ago; sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had stayed, if he hadn’t of joined the military, if he had been around to keep Johnny on the straight path. But for the most part, he didn’t regret a second. Serving his country was the proudest moment of his life up to this point, even if he still didn’t support the general direction of the country or the military’s strict adherence to arbitrary rules and intervention in matters that didn’t concern them. Even if he’d met a beautiful, extraordinary girl who had gone almost as suddenly as she’s come into his life. He’d do it all over again.
He could hear Will gently talking to Johnny behind him in that soothing tone of his, and he knew he could count on him to talk Johnny down. The three of them had their roles, and Will always performed his faithfully, even if he was blitzed, which thankfully he hadn’t achieved yet. For his part, Tunny used the skills he’d picked up from the Army to navigate them back to the car. He followed the shadow of the setting sun, tracked the path they had created coming in, and noticed all of the snapped twigs and footprints in the mud.
Tunny clutched his beer in his fist and took another drink, grimacing as the warm liquid traveled down his throat. He tilted his head back to down the can, then crunched it between his palms. He looked behind him for a second before tossing the can backward and seeing Johnny catch it from the corner of his eye, an action they had done a thousand times before but not since they’d all returned. Tunny smiled as he trudged along.
Finally, they arrived back at Tunny’s beat-up Honda, that had become Will’s beat-up Honda, and piled in; Will tried to get in the driver’s seat but Tunny cast him a disapproving look, and he let Johnny slide in instead. Tunny plopped into the backseat, straddling in the middle and forgoing a seat belt as the engine sputtered to life. He adjusted his prosthetic so it was more comfortable and grabbed the backpack from Will to toss it next to him.
He still hadn’t gotten totally used to it, the prosthetic, though he was much better on his feet than he had been when he’d gotten home. The weeks of physical therapy that Will usually drove him to had been helping, and he worked on his own, too, determined to function just as he had before he literally lost a part of himself. It was one thing to come back from war a different person — emotionally and mentally changed — but losing a limb was a constant physical reminder that Tunny was still working through. He was focused on returning to normal.
Even though he knew things could never go back to normal. At least, not the normal they had all known. Too much had changed.
Will was a dad, Johnny had some sort of gaping hole in his once inexhaustible spirit, and Tunny had abandoned them both and lost a fucking leg in a war that he had never believed in in the first place. At times, it could be like the Grand Canyon between them, and Tunny hated it. He wanted with all his heart to return them to the inseparable trio. The trio that could predict each other’s thoughts and actions and knew each other better than anyone else in the world. The trio that didn’t need anyone except each other.
But it was a slow process. And a process that may never be complete. Maybe it was better. Maybe it was a sign of growing up. But none of them wanted to admit that yet, and Tunny still believed they didn’t have to. Because, fuck, growing up didn’t have to mean growing apart from your best friends. He didn’t buy that.
The ride back into town was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Tunny clamped his hands down on Will and Johnny’s shoulders — intending it as a mark of momentary support — but they stayed there, his knuckles curling around their collar bones.
Tunny was concerned that the holiday spirit was gone, and that was worrisome because it had been the only thing that had brought a smile to Johnny’s face in weeks. He squeezed Will’s shoulder gently, his fingers digging into his friend’s flesh, and he felt Will’s muscles tighten underneath. Then he started to sing.
“Last Christmas I gave you my heart,” Will belted out, slightly off-key. “The very next day you said to fuck off.”
Tunny grinned and joined. “This year, to save me from tears, I’ll just get a prostitute.”
The two of them sang in a kind of disjointed harmony, throwing their heads toward the roof of the car while they sang.
Johnny looked at them both like they were crazy, which was exactly the reaction Tunny had been hoping for. And then Johnny chimed in, creating the most awkward of three-part harmonies.
“Oh oh oh, once fucked and twice the fool, I tried to smile but everyone knew I’m the tool. Tell me, baby, did you forget me? I don’t know how you could, I’m the best you could do, babe.”
They had made up parodies to most of the popular Christmas carols when they were young, using silly and then crude lyrics to embarrass their parents and get out of mortifying family gatherings. It was one of their most important bonding experiences; it showed them the power of making music, however immature their intentions. And it gave Tunny hope that all of them remembered the changed lyrics without missing a beat.
They kept singing on the drive back into town, finishing “The 12 Beers of Christmas” as they pulled into 7-Eleven. By this point, it was dark, and the lot was nearly empty except for Bob, who ran the tree business. (And the sketchy pumpkin patch and the illegal fireworks display stand. And basically he was the unofficial marshall of holiday decorations/shopping/etc.) And, of course, there was the shabbiest collection of trees Tunny had ever seen, most of them barely supporting their own weight, wilting toward the pavement.
The air had gotten a bit more brisk, and Tunny watched as his friends got out of the car, Will throwing his hood up to cover his head and Johnny digging his hands into his stretched-out pockets. The slightly colder air didn’t bother Tunny, just like the hot weather didn’t really affect him. He didn’t seem to get hot or cold anymore, except rare moments like when he was laying in bed and couldn’t stop shivering no matter how many blankets he got. But he knew that didn’t really have anything to do with the weather.
“Hey Bob, is this all you have left?” Will asked as they approached the fat guy who was leaning back against the brick of 7-Eleven on a stool.
“It’s Christmas fucking Eve. You think you get the cream of the pine tree crop the day before Christmas? Fucking morons,” Bob rolled his eyes and looked back down at his cellphone.
Tunny felt the urge to punch something — or someone — creeping up on him, so he turned away sharply, hooking an arm around Johnny’s neck and pulling him toward the couple of trees left.
“I’m going to go inside for a sec, guys. Pick a good one!” Will called out as he walked into the convenience store.
“We’ve got this!” Tunny shouted back, lifting his hand to ruffle Johnny’s hair affectionately. “Right, dude?”
Johnny sighed, frowning as he gazed at their options. “What’s even the point? Who cares if we get a fucking tree now? You guys weren’t going to have one at all until I mentioned it. Why does it matter? Why give a damn at all?”
This was Will’s area of expertise: finding the silver lining, calming Johnny’s spirals, soothing Tunny’s anger. Tunny didn’t know what to say. He was out of his depth. He didn’t know what words Johnny was looking for, or what would make him feel better, so he stayed silent.
“She liked Christmas,” Johnny almost whispered.
Tunny knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Who?”
Johnny hesitated as he reached forward to touch the limb of one of the almost dead trees. “You know ... Whatsername. Obviously we didn’t get to spend one together before I fucked everything up, but she told me she liked it. All the lights and giving gifts and the music. She dug it. I was looking forward to spending it with her.”
Biting his lip, Tunny turned so he was facing Johnny. His friend looked so broken, and it killed Tunny to see him feeling so low. Especially at Christmas. He had to say something.
“I know it’s not the same, man, but you’ve got us. Me and Will aren’t going anywhere, never again. I don’t know what we’d do, what I’d do, without you,” Tunny said quietly.
“You promise?” Johnny seemed years younger.
“Dude, we tried life apart, and look at how that turned out for us,” Tunny tried to smile, but he had a feeling it looked more like a grimace.
“Do you mean it? Do you promise?” Johnny pressed.
“I fucking promise. It’s the three of us. Whatever else happens, whoever else happens to us, it’s the three of us.”
That crooked smile that Tunny knew so well spread across Johnny’s face, and Tunny knew he’d said the right thing for once. Johnny lunged forward and hugged him tightly, catching Tunny so off-balance that he almost fell.
“Thanks dude,” Johnny said against Tunny’s shoulder. “I’m done being a sad sack now. Time for some fucking Christmas joy. Let’s pick a tree so we can go home and drink some eggnog.”
“Did I miss a group moment? Goddammit you guys!”
Tunny couldn’t see him, but Will’s voice rang out across the empty lot, and it was coming closer. Before he knew it, Will had plowed into them, knocking all three of them to the pavement. Thankfully Tunny landed mostly on Johnny and wasn’t hurt, so he just started laughing. And then Will and Johnny laughed, too, so hard and loud that people all the way in the fucking city could probably hear them. Tunny couldn’t tell which voice was his, which body parts were his, all of them tangled together, probably looking like total idiots.
It was the most connected Tunny had felt to his friends since they’d all come home.
“Are you dumbasses going to buy a tree or just have sex on my parking lot?” Bob yelled.
Johnny groaned loudly, and Will cursed under his breath as he got to his feet.
“We’re getting a fucking tree already, hold your horses,” Will shouted back as he offered a hand each to Johnny and Tunny.
“Well, hurry up. I’m getting ready to close. It’s Christmas Eve and I want to go home,” Bob complained, finally getting off the stool to make a show of starting to pack up.
“Yeah, I’m sure his sofa is waiting up for him,” Johnny said with a smirk.
Tunny had only just gotten to his feet when Johnny took off toward the far corner of the lot, leaving him and Will standing confused.
“Whatever you said to him worked some magic,” Will whispered into Tunny’s ear. “He looks like himself again.”
With a sheepish shrug, Tunny then grinned proudly. “I just told him the truth.”
Running back, Johnny was holding what could only be called a poor impression of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It was barely half Johnny’s height and missing most of its needles. Plus the top of it had been cut off, so it didn’t have a point, only a kind of squared off top that wouldn’t hold a star or anything. Which was actually kind of perfect considering they didn’t have ornaments to put on it anyway.
“This is the one,” Johnny proclaimed, setting it down in the center.
“Whatever you say goes,” Will replied without hesitation, and Tunny nodded in agreement.
Bob had come over to probably bother them about leaving again. When he saw the tree they had chosen, he burst out laughing.
“You guys are so fucking dumb. Just take the damn, sad tree. Don’t say I never gave you nothing,” he waved them off without another word, dragging the stool behind him to toss into his pickup with the few remaining trees.
Johnny smiled, full and bright, as he picked the tree back up with one hand because it was so small and sprinted to the car.
“He’s like an actual fucking kid on Christmas Eve,” Tunny said wryly.
“Mission accomplished. And we haven’t even gotten to presents yet.”
Will took off after Johnny, leaving Tunny to walk, a bit unsteadily, behind them. He wasn’t used to being on his feet for this long, but he’d never admit that out loud, especially not with his friends smiling and acting like their dumbass selves. He grinned, watching Will and Johnny struggle to maneuver the tree into the trunk, which was already full with Will’s clothes and things for his kid and who knows what else. He watched Will get smacked in the face with the branches and Johnny swear up a storm. By the time he got to the car, they had given up and were just strapping bungee cords across the whole back end of the car, barely holding it in place.
“If that thing falls out in the middle of the road, we aren’t getting another one,” Tunny said as he slid into the backseat again.
“If it falls out, we’re going to keep driving because whoever is behind us won’t be very happy,” Johnny quipped back.
Will immediately started up their version of “Deck the Halls” — “Deck the Balls,” of course — on the short drive back to their house. Tunny settled back against the seat, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure the tree was still attached, and listened to Johnny and Will sing.
Looking out the window into the dark, he stared at the lit-up houses on the blocks ahead of theirs as they drove past, worn-down but comfortable homes complete with animated Santas and reindeer, inflatable snow globes, and wired trees. If he squinted, it reminded Tunny of the city, all of the bright lights smearing together like the town was bustling with life. He wondered if Johnny was thinking the same.
They finally pulled up to the curb in front of Will and Tunny’s house, which was woefully under-decorated compared with the rest of the street. It was totally dark, with nothing shining, blinking, or making noise. The only decoration was the bare, green wreath on the door that Will’s mom had hung the last time she was there. It was off-center and too low, hanging from a string jimmied around the door at about stomach height. Will loved it though, so it stayed.
Tunny let Will and Johnny worry about freeing the tree from their contraption in the trunk, while he grabbed Will’s backpack and headed for the front door. Inside, he cleaned out the bag and threw the empty cans in the cardboard box they used as a recycling bin and then started lining up the unopened ones back in the fridge. He knew it was pointless to straighten them, keeping the cans separate from the bottles and on a shelf separate from the food, but the little bits of order he could maintain were good for him. At least that’s what the military shrink told him back when he still went.
He heard Johnny and Will come inside, and he walked back into the living room. It was almost sad how hilariously out of place the tiny tree looked in the room. The room itself wasn’t large; Will’s lumpy sofa covered nearly the entire far wall, and Tunny’s armchair was bumped up against its side, with the TV only a few feet in front. Yet, even next to the TV on the stack of milkcrates that served as a stand, the tree just looked pathetic.
Not wanting to laugh, Tunny turned away to face the wall, biting his lip. But then he heard Johnny snort and start cackling, Will following quickly, and Tunny leaned his forehead against the wall to let out his laugh, too.
“Dude, we have to put something on this damn thing or it just looks like a gloomy houseplant that we never water,” Will wheezed out as Tunny limped over and sat in the center of the couch, Johnny squatting on the floor near his feet.
“It’s not like we have a holiday decorating budget or anything,” Tunny replied, leaning down to start the process of taking off his prosthetic.
Suddenly, Johnny jumped up and ran back to Will and Tunny’s room.
“What the?” Will asked, before shaking his head and getting up to join Tunny on the couch, sitting at his left. Tunny could feel Will watching him roll up his cargo pants, fastening the latches on his thigh to make them into shorts and revealing the metal rod and suction connector that somehow was able to support his weight. He unrolled the outer layer of his prosthetic, and he smiled just slightly.
When Tunny had first gotten home, both Will and Johnny couldn’t look at his leg, or lack of a leg. They were equally uncomfortable with his stump and his prosthetic. It had only taken a few days for Johnny to get used to it, even offering to help Tunny take it off at night. It had taken Will longer — Tunny didn’t know why — but he was finally at the point where he could look without getting that sad puppy expression on his face.
Once he slid his thigh out of the leg, Will took it and tucked it in the alcove of the thin nightstand between the far side of the sofa and the wall. (They had found out that it needed to be stowed in a safe place when Johnny had gotten drunk and tried to attach it to his body so he could have “three legs like an octopus.”) Tunny pulled off the various liners and socks, throwing them onto the table by the window. He felt naked and light after removing the prosthetic; he ran his fingers across what was left of his leg, gently kneading into the flesh.
Suddenly, the lights went off and they were plunged into darkness. Tunny was instantly back in the desert, and he felt his pulse start racing, flashes of the dark nights halfway across the world playing out in the shadows, the uneasy quiet, the stifling still air. Then he felt Will’s hand on his shoulder and Johnny’s hand on his foot, both of them sensing Tunny’s panic. The contact grounded him back in reality, even though his heart was still trying to beat out of his chest.
“I’m OK, I’m OK,” he whispered, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he patted Will’s hand.
“Johnny, what did you do?” Will asked, his voice somehow louder in the darkness.
Johnny wasn’t at Tunny’s feet anymore.
“Hang on,” Johnny shouted from back in the kitchen.
“Turn the fucking lights back on!” Will yelled with a bit of an edge.
Tunny could feel Will starting to stand, but then he made out Johnny’s shadow entering the living room, and he tugged Will back down. By the glare of the streetlights and their neighbors’ outdoor decorations, they could make out Johnny laying on the floor on his stomach.
“What in the fresh hell are you doing?” Tunny asked.
“One ... second,” Johnny mumbled.
And then there was light. Well, sort of.
Johnny had rigged up their mega-powered flashlight underneath the tree, facing it upward, so the tunnel of light shone through the sparse limbs from the bottom to the top. On a normal tree, it probably wouldn’t do anything, the light getting cut off by the abundance of needles. But with their pathetic, half-bald tree, the light was able to pass through, catching on the needles and limbs irregularly, creating an almost starry effect on the surrounding wall and ceiling.
It was fucking beautiful.
“Johnny, you’re a genius,” Will breathed out.
Tunny could only nod in agreement.
“I know.” Chuckling, Johnny got to his feet, proudly standing in the center of the room with his arms folded across his chest. He began bouncing up and down like a kid who had had too much sugar. Or like a kid on Christmas Eve who wanted to open presents.
Sighing, Will rolled his eyes and looked over at Tunny, asking if it was time. Tunny grinned and nodded, and Johnny was out of the room before Tunny could even register it. It felt good to have the excitable Johnny back, even if it was only for Christmas.
Johnny was back in less than a minute, balancing five packages in his arms. He plopped down on the floor in front of Will and Tunny, dropping the presents between them. His hands hovered over them excitedly, and Tunny could tell he was losing his patience.
So, clearly he had to make Johnny wait longer.
“We’re seeing the kid tomorrow, right, Will?” Tunny asked, lounging back against the sofa, pretending to ignore Johnny’s anxiousness.
Will looked confused for a second, but he caught on quick. He mimicked Tunny’s movement and leaned back, pulling his legs up onto the couch and crossing them.
“Yeah, Heather and the jackoff are bringing him over to my parents’ house in the afternoon,” Will’s eyes wandered over to the far corner of the room opposite of the tree, where he looked fondly at a small, neat pile of presents, meticulously wrapped with giant, colorful bows on them and everything. “He’s too young to know what Christmas is or anything, obviously, but it’s his first so it has to be big. I’m going to spoil that kid rotten.”
“Speaking of spoiled, you worthless lot don’t deserve any presents. But I’m amazing, so open them already!” Johnny shouted, finally bursting at the seams and shoving gifts at his friends.
Will and Tunny laughed and clutched the presents. Tunny figured it was time to give in, so he began ripping into the package from Johnny, wrapped with a glossy black paper and some kind of fluorescent yellow tape. Will did the same with his present from Tunny, crisply wrapped in layers of green tissue paper.
“Shit, Tun,” Will said softly, carefully picking up the small box to get a closer look. “Is this --”
“It’s no big deal, really,” Tunny interrupted, tearing off the last bit of the annoyingly strong paper from his gift.
“It’s amazing. Don’t say another fucking word,” Will clapped him on the back and then brought the thin bracelet made from one of his broken guitar strings closer to his face to get a good look.
Tunny knew he was getting flustered; he could feel his face burning. He didn’t like receiving praise, but he was pleased that Will liked the gift so much. He’d worked hard on it, doing research online to figure out the best way to mold the bronze string into something memorable. He was afraid it was too sentimental, but he should have known Will would appreciate the time and effort, and hopefully the gift itself. He took a deep breath as he opened his box and unfolded the T-shirt from Johnny that read “Putting the ‘ex’ in ‘extremity.’” And he burst out laughing.
“Did I do good or are you laughing at how offensive I am?” Johnny asked, staring up at Tunny with big, earnest eyes.
“You’re aces, man,” Tunny managed to say between laughs. Of course, Johnny would find the perfect balance of self-deprecating humor. He couldn’t wait to wear it and make people laugh or make them uncomfortable. Either were good by him.
“Open yours now, Johnny,” Will said, lightly pushing Johnny’s present toward him with his foot.
“No, you guys finish yours first. I like watching.”
Tunny raised an eyebrow. “I bet you do.”
“Shut up, you perv, and open them!” Johnny rolled his eyes and then hopped up so he was leaning on his knees, the glint of their homespun tree reflecting behind him.
Will drew his finger between the creases of the wrapping paper, tearing into Johnny’s present much easier than Tunny had. When he pulled out a book, Tunny was confused at first because Johnny and books didn’t really get along, but then Will turned it over and Tunny saw the cover: “Punk Rock Dad: No Rules, Just Real Life.”
“Fucking perfect,” Will said, starting to flip through it as Tunny opened his present from Will, which was wrapped in the comics section of the newspaper. Inside was a plain box, so Tunny opened it and inside that was a pillow.
He slowly pulled it out and was about to ask Will why the hell he would buy him a pillow when he spotted a piece of paper in the bottom. “American Heroes Sleep Project,” it proclaimed. Tunny looked at Will, perplexed.
“I know you were worried about being a sap with your present, but I think I have you beat,” Will said, gently taking the empty box from Tunny’s lap to set it on the floor. “It’s a dream pillow. It’s got herbs and aromatherapy shit in it that’s supposed to help with ... you know, nightmares and insomnia and stuff.”
Tunny didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for an attempt at a solution or embarrassed because Will had noticed how little and how fitfully he’d been sleeping. He gingerly brought the pillow up to his nose to smell it.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t reek or anything. It’s supposed to only release the smells in response to your head movements. It’s a real thing, and lots of vets say it works, so I figured you could give it a shot.”
The fact that his two best friends got him gifts to help him deal with the aftermath of going to war was twinged with a bit of sadness but also uplifting. Johnny’s didn’t make light of the situation but saw the humor, the inevitable need to cope. Will’s was sweet and thoughtful but a realistic reminder of his battle. Tunny had to fight the urge to cry.
“Thanks, guys,” he said softly, his fingers still fiddling with the edge of the pillow. “Open yours now, Johnny.”
Johnny didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped off the newspaper from the gift like he was starving and there was a cheeseburger within the wrapping. When he opened the box, his eyes lit up.
“It’s from both of us,” Will said as Johnny lifted the brand-new jean jacket to examine it.
“Yeah, your hoodie is pretty grungy. And we figured you needed something a little nicer. New and clean and a bit different than your usual,” Tunny said, trying to gauge Johnny’s reaction.
There was just awkward silence for a good minute while Johnny held the jacket in the air. Tunny wasn’t sure if he loved it or hated it, and he didn’t know what sort of response they were going to get. He had been the one to convince Will that it would be a good present, an updated look besides his stretched-out hoodie.
And he had thought it would suit Johnny as he was now, something a bit playful and ridiculous still but also more mature than a hoodie that teenagers wore.
“For fuck’s sake, do you like it or not?” Will finally broke down.
Johnny looked uncertain for a moment until he couldn’t control his face anymore, and it broke out into a grin.
“Hell yeah! Look at this sweet jacket. I’ll look like a ’90s teen heartthrob!”
Johnny stood up and unzipped his hoodie, tossing it on the back of the sofa, and then slipped into the jacket which fit perfectly; one advantage of being too close of friends was knowing each other's clothes sizes. It looked great on him, too, just like Tunny knew it would. Johnny dropped down onto the couch in the small space that was between Tunny and Will. They laughed and scooted over a little in either direction so he could fit. Johnny punched Tunny gently in the arm and ruffled Will’s hair with his other hand.
Christmas was a success, and Tunny was so fucking pleased he could barely breathe.
“Hey guys, we’re late! We need to turn on the TV!” Will nearly yelled all of a sudden.
Tunny and Johnny both gasped, half mockingly but half seriously, as Will snatched the remote from the arm of the sofa and switched it on, flipping through the channels with unconscious familiarity. He got to what he was looking for, and his entire face broke out into a smile as the “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” cartoon flashed on the screen.
“Damn, we missed the beginning,” Johnny lamented, punching his fist into the cushion between his legs.
“It’s not like we don’t know what happened,” Tunny said with a smirk. He couldn’t recall when the tradition had started — he thought it was around when they were 7 — but they had been watching the Grinch on Christmas Eve together since he could remember. Other families watched “It’s A Wonderful Life” or went out caroling or volunteered at homeless shelters; the three of them always ditched their families for a half-hour and gathered at Will’s house (first in his bedroom, then the basement when he moved down there) and watched the cartoon.
Now, for the first time, they were watching it in their house. It made Tunny feel like a real adult but also like they were 7 again, curled up together because the physical closeness made them all feel warmer, safer, and better.
Tunny laid down and shifted to rest his head on Johnny’s lap, tucking the pillow under his neck. Will followed similarly, resting his head against Johnny’s shoulder and clutching his book in his arm, the guitar string bracelet already fastened around his wrist. And they watched in silence until the commercial break.
“We should get a dog,” Will said, his voice almost dreamy.
“We aren’t getting a dog,” Tunny replied firmly.
“But it’ll prepare me for being a parent.”
“You’re already a parent,” Johnny chimed in.
“But a dog. It would be great. He could pull our sleigh and look at the camera like he was breaking the fourth wall, and he’d help our hearts grow three sizes in one day.”
“You are aware there’s no way to make Max a real dog, right?” Tunny asked, laughing. No one else laughed, though, and Tunny could sense Will’s disappointment without even looking up.
“What about a cat?” Johnny asked quietly, tapping his fingers against Tunny’s neck.
“Less work, more attitude,” Will said equally as quiet.
The silence was clearly them waiting for Tunny to agree or shut it down. He didn’t know if they were really capable of taking care of an animal, but fuck if he didn’t feel like they could do absolutely anything as long as they were together. And he’d promised them they would stay together this time. No matter what.
“Sure, OK, we’ll get a goddamn cat.”