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Ford was not expecting what he got when Fiddleford took Stan and him to his home in Alabama for the holidays. He was expecting a cute, quiet, well-behaved family, with Fiddleford’s older siblings and cousins chatting amiably with the other family members and his younger siblings and cousins playing quietly in the corner. That was how Hanukkah was and, as far as he was concerned, Christians were even more straight-laced.
What he got was barely organized chaos.
Everything was a bright, loud cacophony of colors, voices, laughter, shouting, clinking dishes, pounding feet, breaking items, and a tangle of mixing odors--the scents of farm animals, sweet grass and hay, food, and probably nearly a hundred people, all in one moderately sized house.
Fidds’ four younger siblings ran past Ford’s legs, playing some game of tag with a mixed crowd of cousins while Stan cheered on one of the boys--Arnold?--in the background. The four older siblings--that’s right, Fidds was the middle child of nine--were shouting happily to be heard over the din of voices as they coddled their children or dug into plates of turkey and dressing. Fidds’ parents were chatting with their siblings and parents in the kitchen as they helped to serve dinner to Ford and Fidds. It was something political--something about Pence--and Fidds merrily chimed in on a comment that his father made, “Ah, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Ford froze. This was the moment when the father exploded and the house went quiet and the son was hit and sent to his room and then everyone else went back to talking but a little quieter because this was normal.
But nothing happened. Mr. McGucket laughed and slugged his son in the arm happily and said something about Fidds being “too liberal” and everybody else kept talking and Ford...Ford didn’t understand what just happened. So he turned to Fidds and he asked, as the kids brushed past his shins again with a loud shriek of glee, “So...he’s fine with you just...speaking like that?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t he be?”
“Why didn’t he hit you for disagreeing?”
“What?”
“Well, I just thought that...I always….” Ford trailed off.
“Ford, ya do know that your family life wasn’t...isn’t...normal?” Fidds asked quietly, taking Ford’s arm.
“What? No, of course it’s normal. Dad’s just tough is all.”
“Stanford, your dad could go to prison for the things he’s done to you and your siblings.” Fidd’s face was dead serious.
“You mean...he wasn’t supposed to hit me?” Ford glanced at Stan. “Or Stanley? Or...or kick him out?”
“That’s right.”
“You mean he wasn’t supposed to tell me he only kept me around for my intellect and potential to earn millions?”
“He told ya that?”
“Yeah.” Ford swallowed and looked at his hands. “The kids at school aren’t the only ones who called me a mistake, either.”
“Oh, Stanford,” Fidds said sadly, and leaned his head on Ford’s shoulder. “At least ya know now.”
They were quiet for a moment while the world seemed to explode around them. Then, “Hey, now, don’t you two just stand around bein’ sad sacks!” Mrs. McGucket laughed. “Have some food, have some wine (what the cops don’t know won’t hurt them sugar, don’t look so shocked), have some conversation, and have some fun! It’s Christmas!”
“And Hanukkah,” Fidds supplied with a nod in Ford’s direction.
“And Hanukkah, of course,” Mrs. McGucket smiled.
Ford slowly relaxed into the group, going back for seconds and thirds of delicious McGucket cooking, talking with the oldest McGucket child--her name was Margaret, but she insisted he call her Mags--about theoretical physics, drawing pictures for the children of various people in the room, letting one of the children coax him into a Santa hat, and laughing as he and the family played ridiculous games.
At one point, he and Fidds found themselves under the mistletoe. Ford blushed and tried to escape but Fidds whispered, “Hey, it’s alright. My folks are great at accepting people. Do ya think they’ll care now that everyone knows you?”
Ford shook his head and the pair moved in for a kiss. Ford was not ready for Fidds’ amount of passion, nor the enormous cheer that was risen as Fidds let go of his shirt collar. Ford’s face grew even redder as Fiddleford grinned and announced, “Yep, we’ve been dating for about two months now!”
Ford was surprised. Fidds was so anxious about this before winter break, now here he was, casually announcing their relationship to nearly a hundred people! But he decided to go with it and nod with a rather cheesy glance at his--well, he could call him a boyfriend now.
As it began to get dark, the family began to settle. The youngest children were put to bed and the rest of the group all managed to cram themselves into the living room. Everyone sang Christmas carols while Fidds’ twelve-year-old sister, Lucy, accompanied them on a beat-up old piano and Fidds played his banjo and Mr. McGucket played his guitar and everyone chorused in beautiful McGucket harmony about joy in the world, and Ford could believe it.
It was more joy than he’d ever experienced in his whole life. This was somewhere where he really felt at home.