As I stood in my living room with my arm wrapped around Cathy, I couldn’t help but feel lighthearted as I watched Anthony laugh effortlessly with Colin and Matt.

Cathy and I hosted our annual Christmas party, and our extended family was a little bigger this year with Anthony, Colin, and Matt. I knew that Matt came from a very well-off family and that Colin had been an extension of that. Matt and Colin were flying to California tomorrow to spend the Christmas holiday with Matt’s family. I wasn’t worried about them having place to go.

Anthony was the one I was worried about. It was his first year without his father, and I knew he didn’t have anywhere to go but would spend this Christmas alone. And I’ll be damned if he’s going to spend it alone. I truly felt that if his dad could see him now, he’d rest easier knowing that his son found his niche and a few guys that I think he would become great friends with. I didn’t know his dad and only met him the one time, but I could tell that he cared and worried about Anthony.

Leading up to Christmas, I noticed Anthony beginning to withdraw again and I feared that he may be leaning toward thinking that he needed another physical session. I couldn’t nag on him, but I hoped that he would tell me if that need in him arose. Could I carry out that kind of session for him? I wasn’t so sure. But I knew that I didn’t want him seeing strangers for it either.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and I was trying to get Anthony to agree to spend the holiday with Cathy and me along with my brother, sister and their families. He hadn’t committed to it but hadn’t declined either.

I was able to talk Anthony into helping me get a Christmas tree at a local lot. I knew that he was aware that I was deliberately doing damn near anything to make sure he wasn’t alone. He played along and that was fine. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone and that I cared.

“Glad you have a truck, Anthony. Thank you for helping me get the tree. My nieces and nephews will be thrilled,” I said as we pulled into my driveway with it.

“It’s no trouble. I wasn’t doing anything. You could have found a moderately sized tree, though.”

“Anthony, you’ve been in my living room; if I put a moderately sized tree in there, it would look tiny and like an afterthought. This is a statement tree.”

“It’s a big fucking tree.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I helped him pull the giant tree out of the bed of his truck. As we set it up, I thought it might be nice to chat about Christmases of our youth.

“Did your family get a Christmas tree each year?” I asked him.

“Uh, no. Hand me the lights and I’ll get up on the ladder.”

I plugged in the light strings and handed him an end.

“No tree, huh?”

Anthony didn’t respond but was immersed in the placement of the strings of lights. I let him work in peace for a few minutes.

“We always had a nice tree. A few weeks before Christmas, my parents would take my brother and sister and I to pick it out. We always fought over which tree we wanted. I always hated the sap though.”

“Yeah, I’m finding a lot of sap in this monster tree of yours,” he sarcastically jabbed.

“At least you never had to argue with a sibling over a tree,” I commented.

“Yeah, thankfully.”

Anthony’s tone and demeanor had changed drastically since we came inside and began setting up the tree.

“Did you ever stay up and wait for Santa?” I asked him.

“No. Hand me that light string over there,” Anthony said and pointed to a set of lights that were twinkling.

“Did he just magically surprise you on Christmas morning?”

“No…Do you have an extra surge protector for all of these plugs?”

“It’s by your foot, Anthony.” He grabbed it and plugged it into the wall with all the light strings plugged into it. “Santa never surprised you with something, huh?”

“No, Blake!”

Anthony shut his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. I obviously annoyed him and began to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Blake. I didn’t mean to snap. Santa never came to my house. I was bad. Always. He never stopped for me. I never had a tree…never set out cookies…nothing.”

I was stunned. I felt horrible for talking up Christmas so much when it was apparent that Christmas meant nothing special to him.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.”

“Nothing to be sorry over. I just…was a really bad kid.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Believe it.”

I relented with the Christmas talk and let him get comfortable again. He was worked up and kept rubbing his chest. I think by the time he went home, he was back to his usual self, but I was still a little worried. I told Cathy about it and I could tell her heart went out to him too.