Christopher Walker lay on his bed, tossing the football up into the air and letting it land in his wide hands. It was something of a relaxing activity, though he had never been much into the game. His father always wanted him to play, vicariously live the old man’s glory days through his son, but Chris had never taken to it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the game, he was just clumsy, lanky, and his feet got in the way of each other too often. When he had unwrapped the autographed James Jones ball, he’d had to ask his dad which player that was. He turned out to be a wide receiver for dad’s favorite team, the Packers. That wasn’t much of a surprise. Dad had been a wide receiver himself, playing in high school and college and anxiously waiting during the draft to get called to the big leagues. The senior Walker actually had been drafted, put on a practice squad for the Detroit Lions, and then pummeled by an overzealous defender. A broken knee that never healed right put him out of commission and ended his short-lived and not-so-glorious professional career.
Chris was not about to be drafted into the NFL, not as a receiver, not as quarterback, not even as a waterboy. Although, he was decently sure he could do that job decently. Since he was little he’d been taller than a lot of the other kids, always a fast grower. Needless to say, his dad had pushed him into sports. He was never much good and never much cared. Now, twenty-one and home for Christmas from college, he felt like his father had suffered the final disappointment. It could only get better from there, right? So he had never played football or basketball, so he had been decent on the swim team but never went anywhere with it. Chris was more interested in academic pursuits, which at least made his mom happy. Mostly.
His parents had been the golden couple of their high school. He was the star running back, she was a cheerleader, and they got married right after graduation. Chris was born eight months later while his dad was at college on a scholarship and his mom was staying with her parents and him. Honestly, Chris wondered how he had come from those two. Dad sold used cars to suburbanites, Mom taught tweens to dance in a cramped studio in the little “downtown” area of their too-small-to-actually-be-a city. Chris hadn’t had a bad childhood, he just never felt like he fit in with his parents. He could already tell he was smarter than both of them. He’d known that since high school, and that was before he had met Professor Shepherd-Greely.
David Shepherd-Greely had taught one of Chris’s freshman classes, an introduction to world history, and it had changed the course of his studies. Before that class Chris had been thinking about English, maybe going into teaching, but after one semester was through he had declared himself an anthropology major and was signed up for two more of the man’s classes. They had become close over the course of the year until Shepherd-Greely died of brain cancer. Chris had been in his confidence and knew about the impending death, so it hadn’t been much of a shock. Still, it was even more of a reason to pursue his goals, to learn more about his subject, and to succeed.
And more of a reason to keep David’s secret safe.
“JET!” The silence of Chris’s sanctuary was broken by his mother’s shouts. He hated his real first name, but she and his father were the only ones who could really get away with using it. Jet Christopher Walker. Jet Walker. What a terrible name. “Jet! Dinner’s ready!”
“Coming, mom!” he replied, setting the football aside and swinging his legs off the side of his bed. He stood and stretched, wide fingers touching tips to the ceiling, and padded his way down the stairs. His mother, still blonde and pretty like her high school pictures but with the small wrinkles and stretched features of someone who tanned well into her late thirties. For being forty years old she wasn’t bad looking, and a couple of the guys on the swim team had pointed that out to Chris for his entire high school career. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs as he came down.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
“Meatloaf.”
“From last night?”
“Yeah. Come on, set the table.” His mother turned and walked back toward the kitchen.
“I just don’t really see why you need to call me down for leftovers.” He followed her into the kitchen and pulled plates out of the cabinet.
“Because you’re home. We’re eating dinner together.”
“All right.” Chris looked forward to being back in his apartment, but he made the table anyway. He could talk back to his mother, but he never forgot that despite everything, all the misunderstanding and hands-off parenting, she was his mom. She was responsible for his being alive. The least he could do was sit down to leftover meatloaf three days after Christmas, right? That, and Bart was still visiting his family and would be until after New Year’s Day. He’d be spending the New Year with his folks as well, at his uncle’s “kickin’” New Year’s Eve party. Really it was just ten people and their kids getting together, and most of the kids were grown up and moved away, a few with families of their own. At least Chris would be able to have real champagne in his glass this year, providing Uncle Evan remembered he was 21.
Evan was Chris’s dad’s older brother, and he was an architect at a little firm in town. His wife Bea and his kids Nick and Stacy had always been pretty close to Chris and his parents, mostly due to proximity and also partly due to Evan and Charlie’s parents both dying within four years of Charlie getting out of college. That was also about the time of Charlie’s knee injury, and Chris had been seven years old when his grandma had finally passed on. He and Nick and Stacy had been about as close as they could be, Chris always just a bit taller than Nick, who was still a year older than him. Still, Nick was engaged now and Stacy had just started college in California. The kids no longer had much in common. They still talked at the parties for the sake of family more than anything else.
Dinner went as usual, with small talk and a few good moments, decent food, and silence as the family of three ate. Afterward, Chris returned to his room and went straight to his computer. It was his usual routine at home. He had a few friends of high school in town, and a couple of them had even ended up at the same college, but for the most part he preferred to keep to himself. It was just easier that way, and he could think about things that interested him. He never had to lie to himself to seem normal or acceptable. Not that Chris was some psycho or weird person, per se, but his interests were rather different from those of most of his peers.
Chris put his music on and logged onto his school’s site. He clicked through a few links and navigated to the page that showed him his classes for the upcoming semester. The rosters were all on there, a few names he recognized in a couple classes. Mostly people he had expected, other students in his major taking required classes, but there was one name that stuck out in one class. Antigone Shepherd-Greely. It had to be a coincidence, he thought, because there was no way somebody related to David could have been in that class. It was a 400-level course, directed studies looking at the early Britons in the pre-Roman and developing years. And yet this Antigone had the same last name. He’d never heard of her before, and he had no idea who she could be. It had to be his kid, right? A hyphenated last name usually meant that the couple had taken each other’s names, so their kid would be the only one to have them both as well. Couldn’t have been a niece or cousin or estranged little sister, right? But that meant David had a daughter he hadn’t told Chris about.
Chris shut down the computer and flopped back onto his bed, thinking. It would make sense if she was his daughter, being in the class. It was a section that David probably would have taught, before he died. And if she was David’s kid, maybe she already knew a lot about the subject. He had written a few books on various bits of old British history, including one that was actually kind of popular about Arthurian legends. It made sense that she would be smart like he was.
Chris made a mental note to talk to her when they finally met in class. If she was who he thought she was it would at the very least be interesting. Maybe she could fill in a few blanks for him, or maybe she wouldn’t know anything more than he did. It was a toss-up, really, and not worth worrying any more about until they met.
The next three days were basically the same routine. Chris awoke just before noon, ate, read, studied, or played games on his computer. When New Year’s Day finally came, cabin fever was about to set in. Two feet of snow covered most of the ground, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. It always got deep this time of year. At least they weren’t in the UP. Wide areas had been covered entirely in nearly five feet of heavy snow, and people were barricaded in their homes. Meanwhile, Chris and his parents were piling into their shiny new SUV and heading to Uncle Evan’s place. The new car was just one of the perks of being a car salesman. Any vehicle that already had some miles on it was free for Charlie’s personal use, by his own rules. Not all of his employees had the same benefit, of course, but the boss always got the best of things.
The drive to Evan’s house was uneventful, mostly. They barely even talked. Not that there was that much to talk about, but the silence was somewhat unnerving. It wasn’t really even that Chris wanted to talk, but he was at least used to small talk between his parents. Maybe something was wrong. Or maybe they, like him, just couldn’t think of anything interesting to say.
The other Walker family’s driveway was freshly plowed as they pulled in, and Chris thought he could see Nick through one of the windows. Then again, it could have been his father. They had always looked similar. As soon as the car was parked Chris was stepping out the door. Just this one more event and he could get back to his apartment and be in his own space again. One party with his parents’ friends and his uncle’s family and then it was back to campus to wait the last two weeks before school in peace. He was only sorry that the Winter Solstice had already passed. Before Christmas was always such a busy time anyway.
He was greeted by Stacy at the door, who had grown into herself well. Gone was the awkward teenage girl with the frizzy brown hair and braces, and here was a pretty young woman who managed to make her wild hair and wide eyes work to her advantage. California had been good to her.
“Hey stranger,” she said, giving him a hug and pulling him inside as his parents came through the door. “Long time no see.”
“Not since July, right? Just before you left.”
“That’s about right,” Stacy replied with a smile. She released him and looked back to his parents. “Hey Uncle Chaz, hey Aunt Betty. Come on in. You guys are the first ones here, so you get to help us finish setting up.”
Chris’s dad stepped forward, tall and strong with an air of superiority about him. He planted a firm hand on Stacy’s comparatively diminutive shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
“Hey Stace, it’s good to see ya, kid. How’s California treatin’ ya?” His voice was booming in the small entryway, his way of announcing to the house that he had, in fact, arrived. Charlie Walker always talked just a little too loud to let everyone know he was there.
“Great,” she said, flashing that smile again. “Now come on inside! We’ve got, like, ten minutes ‘til other people start getting here. We still have stuff to set up!”
Betty nodded, pushing forward and kissing her niece on the forehead. Chris could see the twinkle in his mother’s eye that, to him, meant Stacy had finally become the pretty young lady she had always been destined to be. Then, without a word, she rushed into the kitchen to help Evan and Bea finish setting up for the party. Charlie followed, and Stacy grabbed Chris by the arm.
“Come on,” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Let the grown-ups do the work. We have some catching up to do.”
Chris knew what catching up meant to Stacy. There was undoubtedly some boy in California. He never quite understood why, but Stacy almost always used Chris as her “male confidant.” Something about him being close but not too close and entirely non-threatening, he supposed. They sat down on one of the couches.
“So who is he?” Chris asked, head tilted forward. Stacy blushed.
“Just taking the thunder right out of it, huh? His name is Brett, and he’s an artist. He’s so romantic! We went on a picnic for our first date, and…”
Chris sort of zoned out as she rambled about this new Brett. He sounded like a good enough guy, probably, from what he could pick up on. He was also apparently older, and smoked a little pot, but hey it was California and a lot of people smoke a little pot so it was no big deal, right? Chris mostly smiled and nodded, remarking now and then how sweet that was, or how fun this sounded, or how romantic he was sure it all seemed. Mostly talking about all of that just made him kind of lonely. Chris was a little awkward around women, and hadn’t had a girlfriend in a year and a half. The two before that had dumped both dumped him for “more interesting” guys. Meaning they had wanted to be with guys who would actually call them once in a while instead of waiting to be called, probably. Chris was kind of passive like that. The beginning of a bald spot at the back of his head and a receding hairline probably didn’t help matters much either. She finished talking and Chris thought he should probably say something.
“He sounds like a pretty decent guy, but don’t get in too deep, okay? You still need room to be yourself.” That seemed like a good enough answer to what he had been picking up on, right?
“Thanks Chris. You’re a good listener, you know that?” Stacy stood and patted Chris on the shoulder, but something caught her eye outside the window. “Looks like the Stephens are here. I’ll go let them in.” She left the room, and Chris let out a sigh of relief. The irony was not lost on him, that was for sure. He heard Stacy greet the Stephens family at the door and he made his way to the kitchen. Nick and his fiancée Irene were in there, along with Evan and Bea and Charlie and Betty. Everyone was busy with something, so Chris tried to simply slip in and grab a meatball or two, but Nick stopped him.
“Jesus, Jet, did you put on a little weight?” Nick was normally a nice guy, but tact wasn’t his strong suit. Chris could feel Irene’s eyes on him, just slightly judgmental with a twinge of disapproval. Irene had done nothing good for Nick, as far as Chris was concerned. She was conniving, and she had never liked Chris. When they had first met, Irene had looked at him and said, “You know, you would be good-looking if you put forth just a modicum of effort. I suppose it’s more important digging up dinosaurs, though.” Chris hadn’t even bothered to explain the difference between anthropology and archaeology, and he had felt like he was looking pretty good that day. Needless to say it was not the best of first impressions.
“I actually lost about five pounds from the last time you saw me,” Chris said quietly. It wasn’t necessarily true, but it could have been. Chris didn’t pay attention to his weight. He wasn’t fat, just a little soft around the edges. What did it matter, anyway? He was tall, he could afford to be a little overweight. It really wasn’t anyone else’s business.
“Oh. Sorry man, good job.” Nick punched Chris hard on the arm, and Chris winced slightly. Nick had been doing that since he was seven and Chris was six. Chris always thought that he’d eventually get used to it, but Nick just hit harder as time went by. Still, for the sake of pride, Chris couldn’t really allow himself to show that the punch had hurt.
“Yeah, thanks. How are you?”
“Oh you know. Same old same old, just plugging along. Goin’ into my last semester and then we are out of here. Already got a job lined up in Illinois, so we’re going to be heading down before the semester starts up again to look at houses.” Of course Nick already had work lined up. Things had been going swell for him his entire life, why should they stop just because he was graduating college? Chris probably wouldn’t have a job in his field right out of college, and it wasn’t all that likely that he’d ever be paid much to do what he really wanted, but Nick was more of a businessman than an engineer, and he’d probably finagled his way into the job through less-than-wholesome means. Or so Chris liked to think. It helped to villanize those who were innately more successful without doing as much work.
“Cool, cool.” Chris stood for a moment before munching on a meatball. “I’m happy for you guys.”
There was a bit of an awkward silence, nearly palpable. Irene broke it, with a simple and effective, “Well.” Nick followed suit, saying, “Yeah,” and Chris just nodded, turning to walk back out to the living room. He spent most of the remainder of the party engaged in awkward small talk and eating and drinking. It wouldn’t be long before he could get out of there and get back home. Not the home with his parents and the memorabilia of his past, but the home with his friends and his future.
They watched the ball drop on TV and toasted with champagne all around, and suddenly it was a new year. Nothing felt that different, of course, but there it was. Some arbitrary date selected to start the year. For Chris, it had already started after the solstice ended. You could say he operated on a slightly different calendar.
The party wrapped up, and eventually it was just family left. Chris and his parents helped clean up a bit, then headed home themselves. The next day, Chris packed up what he had brought and the few extra things he was taking back to his apartment, said goodbye to his parents, and drove back to school.
