Home For The Holidays

Malcolm had been in the den for the better part of five hours, pounding the keys of his keyboard as if they owed him money. After a few generous rounds of scotch and some heated words with Artie, Malcolm was in the zone and spinning off one page after another. He could feel the words pouring out of his chest, as if it were a damn and a crack had finally broken and the waters were flooding out. There was even a hint of a smile on Malcolm's face as he continued to type away. The kids had gone to bed around nine and soon after that the adults started to drop one at a time. Somewhere around two in the morning, David gently knocked on the den door as he came in.

"You weren't kidding when you told us you were a night owl," David said as he walked over and sat in the chair Artie had taken only hours ago. "You're really giving it to that keyboard there bro."

"Passion is passion," Malcolm said as he finally stopped to take a break. "It doesn't matter if it's love or hate, both of them can open one's heart to the art. I don't care which end it comes from as long as I get results."

"You must be hungry," David said as he made a gesture to the door, "Wanna raid the fridge for leftovers? You know how much Dad hates it when we do that."

Malcolm thought about it for a moment and smiled when he remembered how much his Dad detested it when leftovers disappeared in the night. They're supposed to be for another meal, the old man would often tell them. Part of Malcolm had always thought Artie was upset cause he wanted to eat it but now simply assumed the old man was trying to stretch the food in an effort to be cheap. The more he thought about it, the more he loved the idea.

"I'm due for a break," Malcolm said as he put his glasses onto the keyboard, "Let's hit the fridge."

The two of them tiptoed into the kitchen as they had many holiday evenings. They were like ninjas, moving without making a single sound in order to reach their objectives undetected. Once in the kitchen, Malcolm only used the ceiling lights so he could turn them on slowly, sticking with a faint dim rather than flooding the whole room which light which would give away their position.

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"Nice touch." David said as he agreed with the idea.

"The fridge itself will provide the rest of the light we need," Malcolm added, "and I get the stuffing."

They started to dig into what was left in the fridge, moving bowls the island that was in the middle of the kitchen. There were some stools that the men sat on as they grabbed a few forks and started to dig in again the second time that night.

"Don't hog all the dark meat," Malcolm said as he looked like he was going to stab David's hand with his fork.

"I'm a white meat person," David replied, "it's all yours."

"You are?" Malcolm said as he laughed, "Sorry, man."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," David said to him before taking a mouth full of cold mashed potato.

"I know," Malcolm said as he stopped stuffing his face with stuffing. "I'm sorry about that. Is there anything critical that I should know about?"

"Besides that fact that I happened to be married?" David asked.

Malcolm paused for a moment. Turns out he wasn't the only son holding out on the rest of the family. He thought about it for a moment. Why would David want to hide the fact that he's married? He thought what detail would want him to keep it from everyone and especially from their father. The moment he thought about Artie and what kind of man he is the answer came to Malcolm and he smiled.

"What's his name?"

David let out a big sigh the moment Malcolm asked the question. He was surprised his brother was able to put it together by himself but was finally relieved that he could talk to someone about it. "It's Jacob."

"He's a lucky guy." Malcolm said as he then resumed eating his stuffing.

"That's it?" David asked.

"What more do you want me to say?" Malcolm said as he stopped again. "This is the twenty first century and I change with the times. When you teach on a campus that mutates with the time like a chameleon, you either change with them or become irrelevant. The Supremes pretty much legalized it last summer. Is there any other legal activity I should be scolding you for?"

"I'm surprised," David honestly told him, "I thought you and Artie would take it the worst out of everyone."

"To be honest, our views on your marriage shouldn't mean Jack," Malcolm said to his brother, "Do you honestly think how you like your eggs is going to change anything? I'm not that kind of guy and I like to think being a professor keeps me up to speed on the times as they change. I kind of like not being the last person to get the social memo for a change."

"I hope you'd like to meet him." David then said.

"Of course I would," Malcolm replied, "You just got to hit me up with a date before I fly out for the UK."

"What's going on other there?" David asked.

"Lectures and lots of them," Malcolm answered, "With some stiff ass Brits at the esteemed campus of Oxford."

"Wonderful," David said, "Now your influence is spreading to Europe."

"Then the world." Malcolm finished for him.

The two of them laughed but it wasn't long before someone came down the stairs. It was Artie, and the old man was standing there in his robe giving the two men the exact same stern look he always gave them whenever they were caught eating leftovers in the middle of the night.

"Seriously?" Artie started, "You're still doing this?"

"Why not?" Malcolm asked, "This food isn't going eat itself. Wasting food is a terrible sin. There are starving kids in Africa you know..."

"Don't be a smart ass," Artie replied as he knew Malcolm was mocking something that his wife used to tell the kids whenever they wouldn't eat food at the table. "I was saving that for tomorrow."

"Give me a break," David said as he laughed.

"I got news for you old man," Malcolm said as he turned to face his father, "The one thing that sucks more to a nine year old than eating mashed potatoes and overcooked turkey is eating it again the next day for lunch. We're doing our duty as good uncles to save those young souls up there the experience."

"So what are we going to eat tomorrow?" Artie's asked.

Malcolm sighed, "The snow is slowing down. We'll go to Bertha's diner for brunch and I'll buy for everyone."

"Can you afford that?" Artie asked.

David covered his mouth to prevent food from flying out of his mouth as he roared with laughter.

"What?" Artie said as he didn't get the joke.

"Malcolm has more money than Dick." David said as he kept chuckling.

"He does?" Artie said, somewhat surprised.

"I could buy Bertha's diner if I wanted to and it wouldn't even dent what I have stashed in my chequing account." Malcolm confirmed, "So we'll be good."

"Well then," Artie said as he turned the lights a tiny bit brighter. "I'll leave you gentlemen to it then."

Malcolm watched him leave and then looked back to his brother. "He truly has no clue how successful we all are, does he?"

"Not one," David concurred, "Pass the coleslaw."