Discussions
“Ahh, this is so nice, Mrs. Osborn.” Peter tells my mom as we are clearing up the kitchen.
“I had a very good time listening to your interpretation of A Christmas Carol, Max. Thank you.” My mom says as she pulls a plate from the cupboard.
“Anytime.” Peter says as my mom puts a few cookies on the plate.
Suddenly, she grabs a clean cup from the sink, goes to the fridge and pours milk into it.
“We don’t really have to put milk and cookies out for Santa, do we mom?”
“Come on, Harry. It’s tradition.” My mommy says. “Besides, what if he’s hungry?”
Ugh, she just has to be overly festive.
“Sweetheart, can you put this away?” She says to Peter, handing him the milk carton.
“No problem.” He says taking the milk from her.
“Here you go.” She says waving two notepads and two pens in my face.
“Mom!”
Is she serious?!
“What?” She says as she is smiling.
“Max and I are grown adults! We shouldn’t have to write letters.”
“How is Santa going to know what you want?” My mom asks as she is dangling the items in my face.
I sigh in defeat as I take the items from her.
She grabs her own notepad and pen, smiling happily.
“Goodnight.” She says as she leaves the kitchen.
“Night.” Peter says.
Once my mom is upstairs, Peter grabs the milk and cookies and we make our way to the living room.
“I can’t believe you took the milk and cookies!” I exclaim, trying not to laugh.
“What’ll it look like if Santa doesn’t eat him milk and cookies?” He asks me.
I chuckle at the argument.
“I figured that you’d be a dunker.” I tell him as he dunks the Oreo in the milk.
“Of course!” He responds. “What are you? A twister?”
I pick up an Oreo and twist it, smiling cheekily at him.
“That is so wrong in so many ways.” He says eating his cookie.
I shrug as I eat my own cookie.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.” I say, picking up a pen and notepad. “Man, this is so dumb. The dumbest.”
“I hope you aren’t expecting anything from Santa.” Peter says, eating another cookie. “A federal offense, such as kidnapping, lands you on the naughty list.”
I simply look at him expectantly as he starts to giggle at his own joke.
“Laugh it up, Brown Eyes. You have to do one too.” I tell him.
“Damn.” He says.
Score two for me tonight!
Woot-woot!
I'm on a roll tonight, and it feels good.
“I don’t know about you,” I start, putting the pen and notepad down on the coffee table. I make my way towards the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine from the wine display and show him the bottle. “But I think this will take a while.”
⁂
Two bottles of wine later, we are barely finishing our Christmas lists for Santa.
“A brand new SUV.” Peter says. “That is what I am going to ask for. A brand new, fully equipped SUV.”
“Hmm, that is not bad.” I tell Peter. “I am going to ask for a library somewhere in the rural parts of New York.”
“That’s….different.” Peter says thoughtfully. “I honestly thought that you’d want something else like a Rolls Royce or a private jet.”
“I come from a privileged family, but that isn’t important to me at all. There are people out there in our community in need of help, and I think that squandering money stupidly just is crass and unnecessary.”
“So..... should my list be less superficial?”
“That’s hard to say, Peter.” I tell him. “If you really want my opinion, then I should probably see your list.” I say, as I move to grab his notepad.
“No!” He says, but I successfully grab the notepad from his hands.
Checkmate!
His reflexes are a bit slow.
“Pasta machine.”
“I like to cook.” Peter defends.
“Don’t you want something a little bit more….meaningful?” I ask him.
“I have everything I want.” He tells me confidently.
Something about his tone tells me differently, but I don’t know what it is, and right now, I don't want to push him into telling me what the deal is.
“I have a great job, beautiful girlfriend.”
I simply smile.
“Let me see yours.” He says grabbing my notepad.
I don't even make an effort to stop him and I couldn't care less.
“A library, a music center for children, create more local charities, volunteer more and to stop....disappointing my parents.” He finishes quietly. “I’m sure that not true.” He says looking at me.
“Believe me, it’s true.” I tell him.
“Your parents are the best people I’ve ever met.” Peter tells me. “They love you.”
I sigh and look at him for a moment.
“I just wish for once that they look at me the way that they look at you.” I admit.
I walk over to the frosty window and look out of it.
“The best Christmas I ever had….I was 10. I had taken figure skating lessons, and I was supposed to do this big routine at this recital on Christmas Eve, but it was canceled due to a huge snow storm. I was so…upset. Thankfully, our family house in Tri-beca has this patio in the back, so my daddy and I shoveled the snow, watered it so that it made ice. My mom put lights all over the trees in the backyard. The glow was so….beautiful. It was so quiet. That Christmas, I did my little routine with my parents and those two nuts I call for friends who are here with us, watching me. It was like I was the only person in the whole entire world. My parents were so proud of me. Somewhere along the way, things just changed. I know that they are proud of me for doing things my way away from the company, but I don’t really think that they are proud of me in the sense of living my life. From the bad boyfriends, not being the CEO of Oscorp yet…..it’s just a lot.”
I can hear Peter’s struggle to get off of the couch because he falls off, but nonetheless, he makes his way over to me and stands next to me.
“Harry?”
I turn to look at him.
“I think it’s safe to say that parent’s want the best for their kids.” He tells me. “It just sucks that sometimes they don’t know what that is.”
I nod my head at him in agreement.
“We should probably hide the evidence and get some sleep.” I tell him.
“Yeah.” He agrees.