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”Jesus can’t have been gay,” she says, the bell of her Santa hat ringing as she shakes her head. “He was celibate. He had no sexuality.”
“Unless that sexuality was straight.”
“It’s just that—”
Eskild sighs and steals a glance at her Michael Kors wrist watch over his plate. The lamb is drier than Dolly Parton’s voice like it always is at these company Christmas meals, and the small talk at the table so galling that it would surely give him a headache if he wasn’t already sporting one since this morning.
He can’t wait to get home.
The girl is pretty, Eskild will give her that much. Her teeth are white like porcelain, and when someone asks for the salt, she’s there to pass it eagerly. She’s probably a sweetheart, in her own little narrow world.
“I have nothing against gays,” she says. Her eyes are earnest: she probably thinks she means it.
Eskild gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Of course you don’t.”
You just wouldn’t want one as your savior.
Eskild slips his hands into his pockets. Falling snow covers his footsteps.
He walks past an ad for the blood donation bus, then an antiques shop. He stops by the shop window, stares at his reflection among the rococo furniture.
Should he have been more assertive back there? Should he have slammed his fist onto the table and demanded the attention of everyone around him? Shouted I’m queer and you better fucking get used to it?
Done something other than let it slide.
He’s out and proud, but sometimes he’s also tired, or in a bad mood, or has a headache; sometimes he just wants to be a person, not the object of everyone’s opinions. It shouldn’t be his job to argue and educate.
Sometimes he just wants to have himself a merry little Christmas.
An angel ornament catches his eye in the window. Eskild walks into the shop and buys it, a little present for himself.
It is Christmas, after all.
The sounds of chatter and laughter coming from inside make Eskild’s heart tingle with warmth as he turns the key in the lock. He smiles to himself before pulling the door open.
The house smells of raisins and clove. Everyone’s already here: Isak, Even, Linn, Noora, a tall girl with glasses.
Eskild claps his hands as he walks into the kitchen. “Alright, let’s gather around for a group hug,” he says, kissing Even on the cheek and slinging an arm around Linn’s shoulder, exchanging amused looks with Isak.
“Give us a speech, Eskild,” Even exclaims, their arms still around each other.
Eskild clears his throat. “Little friends, we have gathered here today as a family to exchange immaterial gifts of goats to families in need, and to ask ourselves: who is the tall girl with the glasses?”
Noora shifts, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “This is Silje. She’s staying over tonight.”
Eskild curls his lips into a smirk. “Of course she is. Welcome, Silje.”
Isak dashes out of the room for half a minute, then returns hiding something behind his back.
“I know we agreed on no material gifts this year, but we still brought you a little something."
“Is it a stripper? Please tell me it’s a stripper,” Eskild says, covering Linn’s eyes with his hand.
“I want to see,” Linn whines, wriggling herself free of Eskild’s grip as Isak hooks his thumb under the waistband of his jeans and shakes his hips before bursting into laughter.
“Please never do that in my presence again,” Eskild says with faux disgust in his voice.
“Please do that in my presence again,” Even says, leaning closer to give Isak a quick kiss on the mouth.
Isak wiggles his brows before pulling out a bottle of akvavit from behind his back. “Merry Christmas.”
Eskild lets out a surprised laugh. “Akvavit? What are we, Vikings?”
“I got it from my dad,” Isak says, glancing at Even for support. “But I don’t want it, so…”
Eskild nods, because suddenly he understands. “So you bought it to this family gathering,” he says gently, accepting the bottle with both hands. They all have their crosses to bear, even at Christmas—especially at Christmas.
Luckily Noora is there to interrupt before Eskild can get too sentimental with his thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve made some gløgg,” she says.
“Excellent news! Linn, little friend, be a darling and put this bottle somewhere and pour me some while I go faire pipi. I’ll be back in a minute.”
They’ve all seated around the table once Eskild comes back. Isak waves at him, pointing at the empty chair across the table from him. Eskild helps himself to a mug of gløgg someone’s placed on the countertop, proposing a toast before sitting down.
“Here’s to Christmas,” he says, raising his mug high in the air. “May all your Christmases be gay. Cheers!”
They clink their mugs; there’s kissing, and cheering, and laughter. Eskild brings the mug to his lips, takes a sip and grimaces.
“What did you put in this?” he demands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Red wine, cognac, cinnamon, cardamom, clove…” Noora says with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Akvavit, like you told me to,” says Linn.
Isak laughs. “Are you trying to get shitfaced for your Christmas concert at the church?”
“I did not request this. I asked for the bottle to be placed somewhere safe, and for gløgg to be placed in my mug.”
“Sorry,” Linn says. “Must’ve misunderstood.”
“It’s okay, dear. You’ve had a long day.”
“Is it that strong?” Isak asks, snickering. “You looked like you’d bitten into a rat.”
“Strong enough to summon the ghost of Christmas,” Eskild says, passing the mug to Isak. “Would you also like a taste, Linn?”
“I’m on antibiotics,” Linn refuses.
Eskild hums. The taste of akvavit lingers in his mouth, but his headache is gone.
The church is still half-empty when they get there.
“Why did we have to get here so early?” Linn whispers.
“To get the best seats,” Eskild whispers back.
“I didn’t realize there are good and bad seats in a church,” Linn yawns. “Do you think they’ll notice if I have a nap?”
“I’ll wake you up when they start singing,” Eskild says, straightening his back as Linn rests her head on his shoulder.
“Lovely girlfriend,” a raspy voice whispers into his ear.
Startled, Eskild turns towards the voice and says, “Oh, we’re not—”
The butch-looking woman in a biker jacket and short black hair lets out a throaty laugh. “I was only messing with you,” she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Christmas is for the gays.”
Eskild feels his mouth curve into a smile. “Is it?”
“Jesus himself was gay, so it’s only natural,” the woman says.
“You think so?”
“I don’t think. When you’re my age, you learn all sorts of things,” the woman says, letting out another husky laugh.
Eskild chuckles. “Merry Christmas,” he says.
“Merry Christmas,” the woman says, then glances over at Linn with a soft expression on her face. “Time to wake up your friend, it’s about to start.”
It’s snowing again when they leave the church.
“Did you hear when the woman called you my girlfriend?” Eskild asks, giving an amused laugh.
“What woman?” Linn asks, sounding confused.
“The woman sitting next to me. In the biker jacket.”
“Next to you? You mean that tiny space where you put that weird angel ornament of yours?”
Eskild looks up and smiles.