Sounds Like the Holidays

“I’m gonna fall!” Twiggy Ramirez squealed. He was standing on a high ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the guttering of the house he shared with his best friend and band mate, Marilyn Manson.
“No, you’re not,” Marilyn promised, keeping a firm grip on the lower end of the ladder.
“I’m scared!”
“Well, come down, then.”
With shaky knees, Twiggy came down the ladder, leaving the strand of lights dangling down. “Can you do it?”
Marilyn nodded. “Hold the ladder. And don’t let go or move it, okay?”
The bassist nodded. He switched places with his friend, and kept his eyes on the ground while Marilyn took over with the decorating.
“All right. I’m coming down. We have to move the ladder so I can do the next spot.”
Together, they worked at hanging the lights on the house and the lush evergreens. It took nearly two hours, by which time, Twiggy was frozen like a skinny little popsicle, and Marilyn’s cheeks were red. It was chilly for California weather. Cold enough for snow.
Marilyn looked up at the sky. It was darkening already, and it couldn’t have been dusk yet. He rubbed his mittens together for warmth. He glanced over at Twiggy, who was trying to assemble a reindeer and sleigh out at the edge of the property.
It had been a long time since Marilyn had celebrated Christmas, and even longer since he’d decorated. He was actually happy that Twiggy had talked him into doing all of this. It was quite nice, when you had someone to share it with.
“How’s that?” Twiggy called out.
“It’s fine,” Marilyn replied, barely looking. He just wanted to go inside. The cold was starting to spread to places that he didn’t like getting cold.
Twiggy skipped back to Marilyn’s side. “Maybe it will snow. We could build a snowman!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Twiggy’s only response was a smile.
Just then, tiny little snowflakes began to fall.
Twiggy stuck his tongue out, catching a few wet droplets.
“See what you did? You made it snow!” Marilyn grumbled.
“Yay!” Twiggy beamed. “Tomorrow, we can build a snowman!”
“Never,” Marilyn protested.
It was starting to snow a bit harder, and it was getting even colder. California wasn’t supposed to get this cold. It was supposed to be warm. Not like Florida, but not like this, either. Marilyn had had more than enough of the outdoors.
“You know, your lips are blue. Let’s go inside. We can have some cocoa and warm up by the fire.”
No one had to ask the bassist twice. He skipped up to the front door, stomped his combat boots on the welcome mat, and went inside, shedding his pea coat, scarf, mittens, and hat by the inside of the door.
While Marilyn fixed the hot drinks, Twiggy lit up the two Christmas trees- the nice, lush, green one that Marilyn had chosen, and the skinny, straggly, dying one that he’d chosen. When he’d finished with that, he turned on the strand of candy cane shaped lights he’d hung over the fireplace mantel, and started a fire, this time, inside of the fireplace.
“Twiggy? Do you want the little marshmallows in your cocoa?”
“Yes, please!”
Bored in five seconds, Twiggy went over to the old record player in the corner of the room. He shuffled through the albums, and found the perfect one- a record of holiday songs. He had no idea why they had it, but he wasn’t complaining. It was high time for some festive music.
Carefully, he put the record on, turned the player on, and gently placed the needle. He turned the volume up quite a lot, and cheered when he heard the first song start.
Over at the window, he was watching the snow coming down in moderate amounts. It made him think of the holidays he’d spent as a child, which reminded him of dancing with his mother.
A broad smile on his face, he started dancing by himself, which mostly consisted of spinning, twirling, and shuffling around his feet with an occasional knee kick.
“Twiggy! What are you-” Marilyn, holding two mugs of cocoa, burst into laughter at the sight of his friend dancing madly to the old record, a big, goofy grin on his face.
“Dance with me!” Twiggy said brightly, spinning around as if being twirled.
Putting the mugs down, Marilyn pulled Twiggy in, waltzing him around the living room. He kept it a well hidden secret that he could dance. It wasn’t that he’d taken up the hobby. He’d been forced into dance lessons as a child, and even though he’d tried to forget, the memories and the dances always stayed with him.
“Dip me!” Twiggy shouted.
“Shh. You don’t have to yell.”
“Sorry.” He flushed a little, even though his cheeks were still reddened from the cold.
Marilyn twirled him around, dipping him low just as the song ended.
“Cocoa time.”
“One more! Please?”
Knowing that Twiggy would beg until he got his way, Marilyn nodded.
“Hold me close,” Twiggy requested shyly, his bony little arms circling Marilyn’s waist.
Marilyn held him to him, swaying them back and forth gently, as if they were a pair of lovers dancing the last slow dance at the prom. He was certain that if anyone ever found out about this moment, they would destroy his career between the knowledge of his dancing skills and his near cuddling with his bassist.
Twiggy sighed happily, resting his head on Marilyn’s shoulder.
“Where’d you get a Christmas record?”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t know they still made them.”
Twiggy lifted his head up. “I didn’t get it. I found it in the stack.”
Marilyn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have any Christmas records. Why would I? I haven’t celebrated in years.”
“Well, I found it there.”
“That’s strange.”
“Yeah.”
Marilyn moved his hands slightly down Twiggy’s back. “It’s nice, though. Holiday music isn’t so bad.”
“Maybe we could play a holiday song with the band.”
“Totally. Can’t you see Pogo wanting to play O Christmas Tree?”
Twiggy giggled. “How about Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel?”
Marilyn gently smacked him in the side of the head. “Not a chance, boy.”
They turned, so that Twiggy was looking at the candy cane lights and the blazing fire. He couldn’t help but feel that this was one of the most perfect days he’d had in a long time. He loved living with Marilyn, and he loved sharing the holiday festivities with him even more.
“Don’t think too hard,” Marilyn gently chided, lifting one hand up to brush some of Twiggy’s dreadlocks out of his eyes.
He smiled warmly. “I’m so happy here, with you.”
“I’m happy, too. Living with you was the best decision I’ve ever made. I would’ve hated living in this big house all alone. You really brighten the place up.”
“Aww!” Twiggy planted a chaste kiss on his friend’s cheek.
“You know that I love you, don’t you? As a best friend, I mean.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
“I hope that things can stay like this forever, you and I living together and being in the band together.”
“Don’t you want to get married? Have kids?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Me, too.”
“But, not now. Not after…”
Twiggy nodded, understanding that Marilyn didn’t want to discuss Missi or what had happened there. Even though it had happened a while ago, the wounds were still healing.
“Let’s go have that cocoa before it gets cold, okay?”
Together, they walked over to the couch, and sat down. Marilyn handed Twiggy a mug, and then picked up his own.
Sighing happily, Twiggy took a sip, and then rested his head against Marilyn’s shoulder. He liked that he allowed him to do so and didn’t worry that it meant something other than one friend wanting to be close to the other.
In the background, the holiday record was still playing. Funny enough, Twiggy hadn’t noticed the sticky note on the back cover- To Marilyn and Twiggy, Love John. For the time being, they would both just assume that a little angel had left them a present. After all, it was the season of giving and the season of miracles.