…from someone who speaks Italian and understood the first time that Zach used Babbo.
“I have a surreal amount of love for Nathan, and the whole Babbo thing
made my heart melt every single time (esp because I know Italian the
same way this Zach does, and so I understood from the first time, and
I’ve been yelling ever since).”
I can only imagine the dope-slap she’s been wanting to give Chris all this time.
“Better?” Zach asked as Nathan’s breathing began to settle.
“Yeah.”
“Ready to go in?”
Nathan nodded.
“I think you might have hurt Babbo’s feelers.”
“Babbo bad. Push bad.”
“No, it wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. He didn’t mean for you to fall. He was scared for you.”
Nathan seemed to think about that for a moment. “Where go?” he asked, finally raising his head from Zach’s neck and looking around.
“He went inside to make you hot chocolate. Wasn’t that nice?”
Nathan shrugged.
“Try not to be mad at him, okay? Remember how much we missed Babbo when he was filming? We need to have fun while he’s here.”
“Babbo go way ‘gain?” His voice trembled.
“Not for a few weeks. We get to play for a long time before he has to go back to Europe to finish making his movie.”
Nathan frowned at that. Zach wondered what was going through his little mind, and whether Chris’ filming was causing resentment. “Some daddies have to go to an office every day and don’t get to play except for weekends. We’re lucky that Babbo usually gets to play. It just means that he sometimes has to work a lot of days in a row away from home.”
Nathan didn’t have anything to add to that, and after waiting a moment, Zach stood up and carried him into the house.
Nathan got a little braver each time, asking to go faster with a gleeful “more push, Babbo” and then tumbling forward into Zach’s arms. Each time he squealed on his way down as Zach and Chris grinned at each other over his head. The snow was starting to fall harder, sticking to their scarves and hats as the temperature dropped noticeably. And Nathan was getting tired, though denying it utterly. Zach knew he should insist they go in soon, but everyone was having so much fun after so long apart, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He realized his mistake as Nathan listed to the right during the next launch. The child’s squeal turned into an alarmed scream as the saucer veered off the worn path and into powdery snow, throwing him from the sled.
“Shit!” Chris cried as Zach rushed forward to where Nathan was planted face down in the snow. “I’m sorry. God, I didn’t mean—”
Nathan pushed his body up, utterly silent for a second as Chris and Zach froze and held their breath. And then the wail began. Zach picked him up, planting him on his feet and quickly framing his face between large hands and checking for injuries. His face was screwed up in a cry, wet from the snow, and and pink from the cold, but was otherwise fine.
“You’re okay,” he said, pulling Nathan against his chest as Chris knelt beside him. “You were so brave, but I know it’s no fun to get a face full of snow.”
“Daddy!” he cried, flinging tiny arms around Zach’s neck as Chris made his own scan of Nathan’s arms and legs.
“I know, but you’re all right. We’ve got you.”
Chris put his hand on Nathan’s back, rubbing comforting circles and murmuring reassurances.
Nathan pushed him away.
“No Babbo!” he yelled before burying his face in Zach’s neck again, sobbing.
Zach wrapped his arms around his son and looked up at Chris’ stricken face. He was recoiling as if he’d been burned.
“Chris—”
But he was already standing and pulling away, schooling his features. “Uh, how about I go start some hot chocolate so it’s ready when he wants to come in?”
“Chris, he didn’t—”
“It’s fine, Zach,” he interrupted, walking backward toward the house. “I’m fine. I’ll just… I’ll go inside so you can take care of him… get him calm. I’ll start some cocoa.” He turned before Zach could answer, quickly retreating toward the kitchen door, taking what remained of the day’s warmth with him.
Except for the tiny, hot, trembling bundle pressing against his chest.
“Shhhh. You’re okay,” Zach sighed. “We’ll be okay.”
They clung to each other in the falling snow until shuddering sobs gave way to shivers.
“When Daddy was little, this was his favorite thing,” Zach said, taking Nathan’s hand and leading him to the back. “And if you fall off, the snow is really soft, so that’s fun too.”
“Kay,” Nathan said, though he did not seem particularly convinced.
They decided it would be best if Chris was at the top of the little slope, getting him started, and Zach at the bottom where Nathan could see him and Zach could catch him if he started going fast.
The first attempt was almost painfully slow. Nathan sat in the center of the saucer, mittened hands clinging fiercely to the handles at his sides, eyes wide as the saucer slowly squeaked and scraped against the snow, until it finally bumped Zach’s foot as he crouched and pulled Nathan into his arms.
“What’d you think?”
“Again!”
“Nonna! Snowman!” Nathan said, running toward her with awkward, high steps through the snow.
“I see that, sweet boy! I have something for him. Come look!”
Zach and Chris chose two fallen branches and started back as Nathan struggled to carry a large bag.
“Whoa, what have you got there?” Zach asked, handing the branches to Chris and running forward to relieve Nathan.
“Nonna,” Nathan said, as if that explained everything.
“Let’s see what she gave us.”
He reached in, surprised to find small plastic spherical Christmas ornaments: two blue, two green, and two bronze. He looked up at Chris, shrugging.
“For eyes, maybe?”
Of course. He looked down at Nathan who was pulling a very long scarf out of the bag.
“What color eyes do you want our snowman to have?”
“Boo!”
“Blue it is. Okay. Time for finishing touches.”
They placed the branches and eyes. A curve of rose hips formed a pink mouth, and tufts of dead Queen Anne’s lace made for wild, blond hair. Zach lifted Nathan to his hip so they could wrap the long scarf around the snowy neck together. Then they all stepped back to admire their work.
Nathan clapped his hands together excitedly. “It Babbo!”
Zach bit back a smile and looked at Chris, because really, Nathan was right. It hadn’t been deliberate, but the resemblance was real.
“No,” Chris said, mock-thoughtfully, in the same voice he’d been using that morning when declaring himself ‘still cold’. “I don’t think it looks like me.”
Nathan smiled broadly, knowing he’d already won the argument. “Babbo eyes,” he said, poking at his own eyes. “Babbo har,” he said, touching the top of his head. “Babbo scaf,” he finished, touching his neck. Then he leaned toward Chris, and Zach handed him over.
“Yeah, but where are his eyebrows?” Chris asked, wrapping his arms around Nathan, their faces inches apart. “I have these bushy eyebrows.”
“There’s plenty of old weeds at the edges of this yard. I’m sure we could make your brows,” Zach suggested.
“C’mon Babbo!” Nathan pointed to the fence where last years crop of Queen Anne’s Lace stood by the fence, willing Chris to walk that way.
Chris looked at Zach and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, they were definitely missing from the snowman. “I think it’s a great idea. You two go take care of that. I’m going to get something from the house.”
The house was so warm that coming back out into the yard was a shock to his system. But what stopped him in his tracks was the picture Chris and Nathan made, standing by the snowman as flakes gently began to fall again. It was perfect: exactly what he was hoping for from a Christmas at home. No palm trees, or candy-cane forests in shopping malls. No Hollywood costars… he shook his head and forced himself to focus on what was good. This moment. He took a quick picture with his phone before moving forward, reaching the snowman just as Chris and Nathan were putting the finishing touches on the eyebrows. They were coming out more Walter Cronkite than Chris Pine, but they we’re well arched so the snowman looked friendly and a little surprised. Both Chris and Nathan were giggling as Chris the last of the vegetation.
“Now he definitely looks like a member of the Quinto-Pine family,” Zach said, “but I don’t think he’s quite finished.” Zach placed another scarf around the neck and slipped the flipflops at the base, filling them with snow ‘feet’. “There. Now’s it’s Babbo.”
Nathan squealed in joy, and Chris could hardly breathe for laughing. He was bent over and leaning his shoulder into Zach’s chest, and it suddenly felt like a hundred other times they had laughed themselves nearly sick, stretching back to the filming of the first Trek film, definitely carrying them through Nathan’s first year. Zach wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulder and kissed his temple, reveling in the feeling of joy and humor and everything that being ‘Chris and Zach’ had always been while Nathan danced around the snowman and patted the snow filled flip-flops.
Chris turned into the embrace and murmured, “you’re an asshole” as affectionately as any love sonnet had ever been read.
Zach’s cheeks hurt from grinning. “I’m aware. As you have been these ten years.”
“Daddy snowman?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said, wiping his eyes and straightening up. “Where’s Daddy’s snowman? We need to make one with blue toque and some of those brown fern leaves for eyebrows. And maybe Spock ears.”
I’m hoping I’ve got some momentum back. Chapter 2 is now at 3900 words, and if I end where I’ve intended to, I still have several scenes left. So probably more than halfway done, and on track to be similar in length to chapter 1.
Getting his two California boys ready for the snow was nothing short of hysterical. Chris insisted on Nathan wearing so many layers that the poor kid could barely move his arms. His little cheeks were flushing pink as Zach looked down at him and said to Chris, “This is reminding me of your favorite holiday film.”
Chris looked up from putting on a third pair of socks and glanced at Nathan. “It’s not that bad,” he protested.
“Nathan, clap your hands.” He could, but his range of shoulder mobility was clearly compromised. Zach raised an eyebrow at Chris.
“I might have overdone it,” Chris admitted.
“Ya think, Mrs. Parker?” Zach shook his head, smiling, and motioned for Nathan to come over to him. “Let’s fix this, okay?”
“Nathan poofy.”
“Yes. You really are.”
They got outside after about fifteen minutes, all jackets and mittens and slivers of skin showing between the bottom of hats and the tops of scarves. Nathan moved carefully, placing his weight on the new snow then looking up, concerned, as his foot sank several inches before stopping. He tried a few more times, growing more confident as he learned to trust that his foot would stop sinking in a somewhat predictable manner, trying to stomp his feet to see what happened, his smile growing wider. Zach loved watching Nathan discovering things about the world for the first time. It was trite, maybe, to glean joy from a child’s innocence, but he often felt so jaded himself that it was a relief to share these simple discoveries. Judging from the sounds of the shutter going off behind him, Chris was enjoying the moment, too. Finally, Nathan looked up at them both, grinning.
“Snow squish.”
“Yeah,” Zach said, leaning down to pick up a handful. “You’re pushing all the air out from between the snowflakes. It’s called packing it. Like this.” Zach formed a snowball and held it out on his hand for Nathan, who picked it up gingerly. “Now it will hold together when you throw it.”
“Throw ball?”
“Here, I’ll demonstrate,” came a voice from behind them. Zach startled as a small snowball exploded against his shoulder. Nathan’s eyes grew wide as he realized what had just happened. Zach winked at him and took the snowball back, lobbing it at Chris’ butt as he turned to protect the camera.
“Careful!”
“Men holding $4000 cameras shouldn’t start snowball fights,” Zach said, sagely, making another snowball and handing it to Nathan. “Go get him,” he stage whispered.
“Can I help with anything, boys?”
“I think we’ve got this covered, Margo,” Chris said, but he still cleared at spot at the table for her as she moved to sit down.
“Well, I’ll just keep you entertained then,” she said, setting a stack of photos on the table. The top one showed Zach with a bowl haircut, a green and red striped Garanimals shirt, and red corduroys.
“Ma, no.”
But it was too late. Chris caught a glimpse of the top photo and grinned up at Zach with a gleam in his eye. Zach tried halfheartedly to grab for the picture, but his mom was quick, handing it to Chris for his inspection.
“This is great,” he said with glee. Looking up to Zach’s grimace, he added, “Oh, come on. You’ve seen dozens of my childhood photos and heard more embarrassing stories than I even remembered existed during all the family dinners at my mom’s. It’s only fair.”
Zach couldn’t really argue that. And though he wanted to be annoyed, there was something about seeing his mom and Chris practically conspiring around his childhood kitchen table that struck him as charmingly domestic — never mind the half-wrapped presents strewn between them. He huffed his approval, reaching for the scissors as his mom asked, “Has Zach ever told you about the year he set a trap for Santa?”
More from Chapter 2 of Cleaving…and I’m betting you’ll all remember the picspiration for this scene…
Zach dug through his suitcase for a sweatshirt and socks to wear with his sleep pants. Either his mom just liked to keep the house cool, or she needed more insulation. Or he had been in California too long and was becoming a wuss.
He opened the door just as Nathan squealed again, and Zach followed the sound of giggling and smell of coffee down the stairs until he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Chris. Chris, who was wearing a huge blue parka, purple gloves, a fur hat that might have been Joe’s at some point, two knitted scarves, jeans, and flip flops. Zach bit back a laugh and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching Chris put on a very confused “thinking” look while Nathan was practically breathless waiting for him to say something.
“Mmmm, no. I’m still cold.”
Nathan threw his head back laughing and then ran over to Margo, who was holding another scarf and laughing herself. This one was mustard yellow, and Nathan grabbed it with glee. Chris leaned down so Nathan could place the scarf over the back of his neck. Nathan was giggling so hard it took three tries, and then Chris straightened up and looped it around his neck.
“Babbo warm?”
“Hmmm. I should be. I have a hat,” he said, placing both hands on his head, “gloves, a coat, three lovely, warm scarves.” All the while he was wiggling his toes in such an exaggerated way Zach was surprised he didn’t lose his balance. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and said, “Still cold,” much to Nathan’s delight.
Zach was now laughing as much as any of them, marveling at how comfortable Chris was being a ham. He did it for the camera, singing on talk shows and laughing about high school photos, and he was always willing to do it for Nathan. Chris was shy in a lot of ways, but he was always very ready to laugh at himself. Zach had decided long ago that it was a trait he should try to emulate, though he found it much more difficult. Biting back another chuckle, Zach watched as Nathan literally shook with laughter in that full-body way toddlers invest themselves in everything. When Nathan spun around to run back to Margo, he spied Zach in the stairwell.
“Daddy! Babbo no socks!”
“I see that,” Zach chuckled.
“Babbo silly.”
“He certainly can be.” Zach couldn’t help the fondness that suffused
his voice, or the warmth in his smile as he watched Chris start to peel
off the layers, the game apparently over. He was flushed, either from
being overheated or being caught out by Zach. He gave Zach a sheepish,
almost shy grin, and Zach’s heart clenched. He looked better. The
shadows under his eyes were less severe, and his expression was actually
animated for the first time since he’d returned from England. He
looked like himself, finally.
Zach dug through his suitcase for a sweatshirt and socks to wear with his sleep pants. Either his mom just liked to keep the house cool, or she needed more insulation. Or he had been in California too long and was becoming a wuss.
He opened the door just as Nathan squealed again, and Zach followed the sound of giggling and smell of coffee down the stairs until he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Chris. Chris, who was wearing a huge blue parka, purple gloves, a fur hat that might have been Joe’s at some point, two knitted scarves, jeans, and flip flops. Zach bit back a laugh and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching Chris put on a very confused “thinking” look while Nathan was practically breathless waiting for him to say something.
“Mmmm, no. I’m still cold.”
Nathan threw his head back laughing and then ran over to Margo, who was holding another scarf and laughing herself. This one was mustard yellow, and Nathan grabbed it with glee. Chris leaned down so Nathan could place the scarf over the back of his neck. Nathan was giggling so hard it took three tries, and then Chris straightened up and looped it around his neck.
“Babbo warm?”
“Hmmm. I should be. I have a hat,” he said, placing both hands on his head, “gloves, a coat, three lovely, warm scarves.” All the while he was wiggling his toes in such an exaggerated way Zach was surprised he didn’t lose his balance. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and said, “Still cold,” much to Nathan’s delight.
Zach was now laughing as much as any of them, marveling at how comfortable Chris was being a ham. He did it for the camera, singing on talk shows and laughing about high school photos, and he was always willing to do it for Nathan. Chris was shy in a lot of ways, but he was always very ready to laugh at himself. Zach had decided long ago that it was a trait he should try to emulate, though he found it much more difficult. Biting back another chuckle, Zach watched as Nathan literally shook with laughter in that full-body way toddlers invest themselves in everything. When Nathan spun around to run back to Margo, he spied Zach in the stairwell.
“Daddy! Babbo no socks!”
“I see that,” Zach chuckled.
“Babbo silly.”
“He certainly can be.” Zach couldn’t help the fondness that suffused
his voice, or the warmth in his smile as he watched Chris start to peel
off the layers, the game apparently over. He was flushed, either from
being overheated or being caught out by Zach. He gave Zach a sheepish,
almost shy grin, and Zach’s heart clenched. He looked better. The
shadows under his eyes were less severe, and his expression was actually
animated for the first time since he’d returned from England. He
looked like himself, finally.
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