Boo, Inc.

Chapter 4(0)-Five

Photo: I giggle under the Christmas tree with a bow on my forehead. Caption: What do you guys think I'm getting for Christmas this year? I know what I want. Oh, Santa, I've been a good boy, promise! -Boo

Boo is a bit dope sick under the Christmas tree with me, and I hold him closely to my chest. I finger comb his hair, twirling the locks around my fingers in zigs and zags and twisted polygon swirls. Christmas is the best time to dope, and he tried to cut back too much all at once. I'm feeling okay enough, having cut down just a little. A dope binge is notoriously at its worst when life is going well, because it enhances everything. The sex, the booze, the glittering Christmas lights lining the strip at the mall and the figgy pudding that JT sets at the center of the table every Saturday night.

The rest of the company has been going out for hits over Christmas Break- now it's Christmas Eve- but Boo and I have been screwing and doping for a week. JT is off to Uncle Sal's to snort cocaine off a hooker's asshole, and then everyone else will be home within the hour from some last-minute shopping. It's just the Boo's holding down the Indian Trail house until then, standing guard over the moat with heroin-sick swords.

"Just do a little bit more," I tell him. You like boom boom boom cut the dose in half, you knew it was gonna make you sick, Bug Eyes."

"I'm fine." Boo sits up and helps me to a seated position, sips his egg nog. A cadence of that sweet brown sugar crosses his eyes in a streak of loneliness. "Uncle Sal is concerned, you know that. And I can't show up tomorrow higher than an Irish kite for Christmas Morning. You know what he said. We're only playing the Angelina Game until after the New Year, and then he's reintegrating reality one step at a time. I can't ruin Christmas by him having his son-in-law to be a dopehead."

I give him a look. You haven't known someone since you were six and not be in possession of an arsenal of looks, personalized to every situation. This one accompanies my putting my foot down on a matter. Boo likes to stay in control like a husband from the 1950's that phones his best friend if the rump roast was off and wonders if his wife has become hysterical. He'll twitch if I threaten to take off my apron.

Marv- the tall, goofy robber in Home Alone- is being electrocuted on the new flat screen TV we mounted on the wall.

"I think he'd be more upset if you were dope sick. Come on, Boo." I point to the screen. "You look like fucking Marv right now. And I told Uncle Sal we do Christmas Break doping every year and we've never become addicts. It's just...we had just a little bit more money this year and might have gotten carried away. Besides, we always get lit-lit on Christmas Eve and Christmas. We aren't killing just for the kicks anymore, Boo, we have a future. So let's celebrate it."

"If he thinks I'm a dopehead, we could ruin that future," Boo says. Shakes his head, gives me a left-eyed stare.''He's got cokeheads and drunks on his payroll, sure. But dopeheads? Dopeheads fuck up, Boozy."

"I'll text him. Angelina can do no wrong."

"Yeah." Both eyes drill me, now, the Christmas lights gleaming across his monocle. "But maybe her, um, fiance can. You wanna talk about the other elephant in the room while we're at it? Everyone will be home soon, Chit Chit. It's time."

I cross my arms and sigh, shake my head. There's no avoiding it.

"Give me a bump first, Boo-A."

A little dope on the mirror and a quick snort later, I'm relaxed enough to even look at Boo. We love Christmas. But it comes with its own closet full of skeletons that we've vowed to only discuss once a year, and tonight's the night.

Maybe a skeleton in the closet wasn't the right metaphor. Our baby wouldn't have had a very big one when it died. I was only twelve weeks along. Certainly not big enough to fill any closet. No matter how large the spirit of him was, swallowing us up in bliss after Boo figured out my delicate condition. After he strung together such beautiful promises that I wanted to put myself into a coma for the next couple months, just so I could live in our future dream world as soon as possible. Boo pulls a candle from the coffee table and lights it, sets it between us. We bow our heads.