Puppy Love for Christmas

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The Trevor Polar Run was older than the Christmas by the Sea Festival. It happened every year on the 23rd of December. At first, it had something to do with appeasing the sea gods. Every able-bodied man would strip to his underthings, run around the town, then jump off the second highest cliff. It was said that doing this ensured a bountiful sea and safe waters in the next year to come.

Over the years, the town moved away from superstition and used the Polar Run as a way to raise money—even if some of the fishermen still believed in the tale of appeasing the sea gods. At first, the funds raised were used for the town. Renovating town hall. Rejuvenating the park by planting trees and flowers. Opening a new senior center. After Trevor had established itself as a popular tourist destination, the Polar Run proceeds went to the charity being featured that year.

In the years past, Christopher had never been motivated to participate in the Polar Run. Especially since there were some years when people were made to run through the snow and jump into freezing waters. The run was only cancelled once because of a snow storm. That was a bleak year in Trevor history.

This year, Christopher ran because all the proceeds would go to the Animal Sanctuary. He thanked his lucky stars that the snow was late. And after the incident last night? He was even motivated to win. He shifted his weight and shook his arms in order to stay warm. He still had a fleece robe on, but underneath all he wore were his Spiderman swim trunks. Even without snow, the air was cold enough to hurt his face.

Marcus approached him with sure steps. He took Christopher’s chin in his hand then twisted his head left then right. Christopher endured the inspection. He was thankful that Marcus had been there to break up the fight because he wasn’t sure exactly how long he would have lasted against Troy.

“That lip is swollen good,” Marcus said in admiration.

Christopher winced. “You look way too proud for someone who has a zero tolerance for bullying.”

“This wasn’t bullying. This was in defense of someone’s honor.”

The snort left Christopher’s nose before he could stop himself. The fight shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Troy just wanted to prove he was the better man. Show me who was boss around here.”

“And did he show you?”

Bringing a thumb to his split lip, Christopher smirked. The cold numbed all his facial muscles so he felt no pain. The Vaseline slathered all over his skin also helped. He shook his head and Marcus’s smile grew ten times wider.

“That’s my guy. Who knew a Math-whizz like you could hold your own?”

“Thanks for helping out last night,” Christopher said. “I wouldn’t have known how to take care of a cut lip, let alone a bruised chin.”

“Being in football, you get used to cuts, bumps, and bruises. Nothing a little antiseptic cream, a cold compress, and arnica gel can’t fix. How did your parents take it when they saw?” Marcus circled a finger around the affected areas.

Another smirk pulled on Christopher’s lips. “I think that was the first time I saw my dad truly proud of me. Like I officially became a man in his eyes. My mom freaked out, of course. But nothing my dad couldn’t talk her out of. Overall, I get the feeling I passed some sort of test.”

Marcus slapped a hand on Christopher’s shoulder and squeezed. “Ah, but that you did young Padawan. It’s time to cast off your braid and become a full-fledged Jedi.”

“As much as I appreciate the Star Wars reference, I’d like last night to be the first and last time.”

“In life one must be prepared to receive some punches. Maybe throw some of your own next time.”

The faraway, mock-philosophical look on the quarterback’s face was more than enough to make Christopher want to gag. But, really, he was a man of math and science. He’d rather beat someone with his brain than with his fists. Ironic since he was about to participate in a masculine practice of running around town practically naked and jumping into the frigid Atlantic.

Mayor Stanley climbed a small platform and raised a bullhorn, “Good morning, men!”

This year’s participants seemed to be double in size from the last time Christopher was in town—he had been fifteen. The cheer was deafening. If the mayor was already addressing them then the run was about to start. Christopher looked around. In the crowd he spotted Charlie, who waved at him. Beside her of all people stood Sabrina. When had they become friends? Sabrina gave him a small wave before she dropped her gaze, a clear blush on her cheeks. Surely, it was just the cold?

“You’re going down, Wakefield,” a voice said from his left.

“Hey, Troy.” Marcus reached out and they shook hands. “Let’s make this a fair fight, huh?” The tone in Marcus’ voice told everyone within hearing distance that he was watching.

“We’ll see about that, Townsend,” Christopher said, unwilling to backdown or cower away.

“Let’s make things interesting,” Troy said over Mayor Stanley’s speech.

Christopher looked over at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Let me just say that I do not support this wager,” Marcus said, crossing his arms and studying them intently.

“First one to jump off Point Pleasant gets to take Sabrina to the Snow Ball tomorrow night.”

Christopher didn’t have to think twice about it. He reached out and shook Troy’s hand. “Deal.”

“Are you sure about this?” Marcus asked, pulling Christopher aside.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been hitting the gym too.” Christopher tilted his head. “Once in a while. I’m confident that I can outrun Troy.”

“There’s a difference between hitting the gym sometimes and once being the quarterback for the Ohio State Buckeyes.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I get it, he’s stayed in shape.” Christopher flexed an arm. “I’m spry.”

“If you say so.” Marcus shrugged out of his robe.

Christopher did the same. The cold immediately stole all the warmth that his robe had saved. The air bit down and refused to let go. Suddenly, the voice of John Snow declaring “Winter is coming” bounced inside his head.

“Holy Einstein,” he said, shivering. “It’s so cold.”

Marcus bounced from foot to foot, shaking his arms and rolling his head from side to side. “Embrace the cold, Math-whizz. That’s the only way you’ll get through this. Don’t act like you didn’t grow up around here.”

“Yeah, but I love jackets and gloves and beanies—”

The blaring of a bullhorn cut off the rest of what Christopher had to say. Before he could second guess his decision to participate—charity or not, taking Sabrina to the ball or not—Christopher was swept up by the crowd as the runners moved as one. It was either take off or get trampled. Losing his life was out of the question, so he kept his head facing forward and started running like his life truly depended on it.

As it turned out, moving with the crowd wasn’t as hard after the turn into Peach Street. The runners spread out a little more after the narrow starting line. The streets used for the marathon were the widest in town. Spectators lined the sidewalks, cheering, handing out water in paper cups.

Once Christopher found his stride, he glanced around for Troy’s tallow head. He was taller than the average Trevor guy, so he was easy to spot. Right in front. No surprise there. And beside him, matching him stride for stride was Marcus. Again, no surprise there. They were both two of the country’s top collegiate quarterbacks at one time. And who was he? Well, he was Christopher F-ing Wakefield, that was who he was.

He widened his stride, swinging his bent arms faster. He imagined himself in water. With each stroke he swam closer and closer to the head of the pack. For the rest of the runners, they had the luxury of time. There was no prize to be won in the Polar Run. It was about giving. Not for Christopher. For him there was a prize and it was at the utmost importance that he won.

With each person he passed, the more he felt his lungs burn. The cold air was unforgiving. The snow may have been late that year, but it sure felt like any day now the flakes would start falling. The frigid air crept into his bones. The extra layer of Vaseline did him no good. But he persisted. Troy was so confident that he would win that he wasn’t even trying hard. Well, he was in for a surprise because Christopher elbowed his way between the last two runners that kept him from running in stride with Marcus and his competition.

The look on Troy’s face was priceless.

“Hey, Troy,” Christopher greeted, thanking whatever power of the universe allowed him to speak without showing any hint that he was dying inside.

The runners turned as one into Maple Avenue. Just a little further and they would make it onto the winding road that led up to Point Pleasant. Then it was a fifty-foot jump into the Atlantic. Christopher wasn’t looking forward to that.

“Hey, Math-whizz,” Marcus greeted, another one of those proud smiles on his face. He never broke stride. Just kept on running like he was on a Sunday stroll. “Glad you could join us.”

“Where’d you come from?” Troy finally blurted out after he regained his rhythm and managed to string words together.

“The arrogance of the mighty makes their fall faster and harder,” Christopher said. Those were the last of his words. His lungs no longer allowed him to speak, breathe, and run at the same time. He could only do two and he chose breathing and running.

Scowling, Troy picked up his pace right as they made it onto the path up Point Pleasant. Christopher was prepared. He gritted his teeth and used the last of his strength to push through the pain. His legs screamed. His muscles ached. His lungs were never going to forgive him. And his heart? He stopped feeling it beat since they left town. He was going to die. He was sure of it.

Marcus kept pace with him. “You got to push, man. Push.”

“That’s . . .” Christopher heaved. “What . . .” He heaved again. “I’m . . .” He shook his head. Really, words. Too hard. No more speak.

“Do you want to win this?”

He nodded vigorously. Sweat poured down his face. It wasn’t the best of looks, he was sure. Good thing Sabrina was no where in sight.

“Then you got to push!” Marcus grabbed his shoulder and nudged him forward.

It was what Christopher needed to give his rubber-shoed feet wings. With a mighty yell, he plunged his feet as hard as he could onto the ground and propelled himself forward. First, his gaze was glued onto Troy’s naked back. Then it was Troy’s side. Then it was open air as they jumped off the cliff without giving the plunge much thought.

The sensation of flying filled Christopher with vigor. He screamed a great whoop so loud he was sure it was heard all the way to the hotel on the cliff in the distance. The thought of what astronauts must feel like when in space completely took over his mind. He was weightless. He never wanted it to end.

But, like the law of gravity, what once was falling must eventually land. In seconds, he went from falling to being engulfed by the sea. It happened so fast that his mind didn’t register just how cold the water was until he was already paddling toward the surface. All his limbs seemed to weigh a ton. Not the best sensation when trying to break through in order to breathe.

Thankfully, his arms and legs didn’t fail him. His head breached the surface of the water and he took what seemed like his first breath in so long. He wiped a hand down his face and looked around. A figure was already swimming back toward shore. Troy.

Gathering what little strength he had left, and there wasn’t very much, he cut his arms through the water and swam his way back to land. And not a moment too soon since a majority of the runners finally made it to the cliff and, like lemmings, jumped off one by one.

By the time Christopher reached shore, he was done. His body may never function properly again. Adrenaline was still rushing through his system that the real pain was to come and he dreaded the thought. He crawled his way out of the water and flopped down onto the beach beside a similarly heaving Troy. Christopher felt immense satisfaction in knowing even the star athlete grew weary after vigorous activity.

“I won,” Troy said.

Christopher swallowed hard before speaking. “Nah uh, I won.”

“What exactly did you win?” someone else asked.

Tilting his head back, Christopher focused his eyes on Sabrina, who was holding a towel in one hand. The other rested on her hip. Charlie stood right beside her, carrying another towel. Sabrina narrowed her gaze at the both of them. At least Christopher assumed it was the both of them. He was having a little trouble focusing. Was that normal?

“I bet Chris that whoever jumped off the cliff first gets to take you to the Snow Ball,” Troy said. “And we were deciding who won.”

In the back of his head, Christopher was grateful he didn’t have to provide the information. He doubted he could have spoken more than a nod in that moment. He was definitely dying.

Sabrina’s narrowed gaze turned into a world class scowl as she threw the towel at Christopher’s face and said, “I’m not some prize to be won. As far as I’m concerned, you two knuckleheads can take each other to the Snow Ball.”

Then she turned on her heel and stomped away, Charlie in tow.

***

That night, Christopher barely made it out of bed for dinner. His body ached in all places. In muscles he didn’t even know he had. A slap on his shoulder from his father made him wince as he felt it all over.

“I’m proud of you, son,” his father said from the head of the table. Christopher sat by his left while his mother sat on his right. Charlie sat beside him.

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” his mother said, worry clear on her beautiful face. “We would have been happy to donate any amount to the Animal Sanctuary had you said anything.”

“I would have made a donation too. That’s the easy part.” Christopher knew that. “But I wanted to participate this year.”

“He was amazing,” Charlie championed.

“He’s a Wakefield. Of course, he was amazing,” his father declared. “We do our best at everything we do.”

At that his mother nodded. Even married into the family, she was still a Wakefield through and through. Christopher suspected that was why his parents loved each other. Because they were in essence one another. The same. Peas in a pod.

Even chewing had been an endeavor for Christopher. He endured the rest of dinner, listening to his parents tell Charlie silly stories about him as a kid growing up. It was both mortifying and humbling. He may not have spent much time with his parents, but they always found a way to make every minute count.

After dinner, Christopher debated whether to find Sabrina or go back to bed. Since he still felt like a dead man walking, he opted for bed and promised he’d see her at the Adopt-a-Thon.

He had just stretched out on his bed when a knock came at his door.

“Come in,” he said, wincing. Even talking hurt. How was that possible?

The door opened to reveal Charlie. Christopher sat up as she entered his room. His gaze immediately went to the bag she set on the floor beside her feet.

His eyebrows, the only parts of his body not aching, rose. “Leaving already?”

A small smile stretched across her face as she remained in place. “All the prototypes are ready. All you need to do is match them to the animal in need. My job here is done.”

“But the festival isn’t over.” Christopher heaved and slowly sung his legs over the bed’s edge. Then he pushed himself up to his feet. Each movement was pure agony. He was never participating in anything physical ever again.

Charlie clasped her hands behind her back. “Being here. Seeing your town. Hanging out with your parents. I figure I want that too.”

“You’re going home?” Christopher was surprised. Charlie hardly spoke about home. They and a group of others were always left at the dorms when the holidays rolled around back during their MIT days.

“I figure my parents get the pleasure of my company this year,” she said.

“Hey.” Christopher finally reached her. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I know I wasn’t as welcoming yesterday.”

She stepped back. “I’m taking a different flight out. Andrew told me to remind you about the Christmas Gala on the 27th. You need to be there for that. The plane will be waiting to take you back to San Francisco on the 26th.”

“I hadn’t thought about work in what seemed like ages.” Christopher reached out his hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You have a wonderful girl there,” she said, clasping his hand in her own and shaking it. “Strong. Knows her own mind. You better not screw this up.”

Christopher allowed a smile even if his cheeks also hurt. “Not in the plan.”

“Good.”

He reached down and picked up Charlie’s bag. “I can take you to the airport.”

She shook her head. “I already have a car waiting for me outside.”

“You sure?” He handed over her bag.

“I’ll see you back at SF. Lots of work to do.”

Christopher stood in place long after Charlie had gone. He traced the empty space she had left with his gaze, imagining the outline of her. He had missed something. He was sure about it. But, eventually, his body overtook his brain’s willpower. He ambled his way back to bed and crawled in with a single thought, Christmas really was design to kill.