I gripped onto the leather strap of my bag as I pulled out three quarters for the pay phone. I was planning to spend Christmas with my cousin Roger and his roommate, Mark. We were never on the same terms, no, but I supposed that, considering we were more mature now, it wouldn't be like last Christmas where I jumped off the fire escape. I laughed at my own idiocy and dialed the number of the apartment.

"SPEEEEEEAK."

I was greeted by the sound of Mark and Roger's voice. "Hey, guess who? Your little cousin, toss down the key. Sweet." I moved closer to the building and saw Mark standing on the fire escape, and said, "Hey Markus, toss it here!" I stood in an almost baseball position and grabbed the keys as they fell. "Thank you, Markus!"

He shook his head and went back inside. I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning as I ran to the door and up the stairs, unlocking the door. "Merry early Christmas, boys!" I said happily, and was greeted by rolling eyes.

"What do you want, Kiley?" Roger asked in a jokingly bitter way.

"What, I can't spend Christmas with my two favorite boys?!" I dropped my heavy bag and went up to each of them, wrapping my arms around each one in a hug. Roger patted me on the back, and Mark lifted his arms over his head. "Why would you wanna spend Christmas with us? We've never gotten along." Mark said bitterly, sitting on the long metal table. "Well, I wanna patch things up, Marky-kinz. You know... after that day five years ago..."

"Yeah, thank God someone was throwing out their mattress." Roger said, messing with the fuse box. "God, Benny turned off our power... way to go."

"Why would Benny turn off your power?" And then I remembered one of the discussions I had with Mark's parents. "Oh yeah! He moved out and got married, right?" When they nodded and started at me. "I stopped by Marky darling's house. I thought I could catch up there. Oh, your dad says, 'Sorry about Maureen, but c'est la vie, let her be a lesbian, she doesn't know what she's missing.'" I didn't add the fact that he said, "And while you're single, go out with Kiley. She's changed." But I was sure he'd say that tomorrow when he called. And besides, I would've sounded pretty conceited.

"Wow. Go Dad." Mark said bitterly. I looked at Roger, and he shrugged. Since when had Mark always been that bitter? Just then, the phone rang, and the voicemail went off,

"SPEEEEEEAK."

"Hey man, it's Collins. Throw down the key. Cool." I grabbed the key off the table and went out on the fire escape.

"Hey Collins! It's Kiley!" I yelled as I tossed down the key. "I'm back!"

"Me, too! I'll be up!" he replied, laughing. "Don't jump!"

I shot a playful scowl at him and went back inside. "So what do you do for fun 'round here, cousin?" I asked Roger, putting my feet up on the arm of the chair I was sitting in.

"We pay rent. Talk to each other. Try to make money. And now that you're in town, lil' cous, you're in on it." Roger replied, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Alright, I think I like New York. Hell of a lot better than home, anyway." I mumbled, and stood up, looking for a mug. "Got any coffee?"

Mark came up behind me and closed the cabinet I was looking through. "Good luck making it with no power." he reminded me, and I turned around and mussed up his hair.

"Thank you, Markus, I never woulda remembered." I said sweetly, and went to put on my jacket and grab some change.

"Where are you going this time of night?" Roger asked, concerned. "I'm going to get coffee, Roger. I'm not a little girl anymore." I walked past him and out the door. "When Collins comes in, tell 'im I said heey boy heey. Ahahahaha!" I laughed at my own joke as I walked down the stairs.

***

Fifteen minutes later, after barely walking five blocks, I found myself sitting alone in a small café, holding a cup of holiday-themed coffee. I had dug through my pocket, looking for spare change to give the hostess a tip, when Mark walked in.

"Hey Markus! Pull up a chair, boy!" I said loudly, and he looked at me, rolled his eyes, and sat down across from me. "What'cha doin' out? Looking for me?"

"Ahah, no." he laughed, almost sadly. "Collins never showed up, so I went out looking for him. Don't worry, I told Roger to take his AZT." he added, and I nodded.

"Good. Want a cuppa? The coffee here's pretty good. But then, I suppose you've been here before." It was awkward, talking to Mark after five years, and we've never been on good terms. It reminded me of when we were kids.

Me being Roger's cousin, and him being Roger's best friend meant that we met up often. At Roger's fifteenth birthday party, when he got his first guitar, Mark and I got into an argument so harsh it ended in me sleeping in a sub station for three days. But we never stayed mad at each other for long, because it turns out Mark was the one who found me. We even dated once, in high school. I was a year behind them, but it didn't matter because we hung out so much… but once he and Roger moved in with Benny, Maureen and Collins, we kinda drifted away. Then he went out with Maureen, blah… and all those moments led up to that Christmas five years ago.

I had decided, in a sudden burst of kindness, to go visit Mark and Roger on Christmas. Man, that was the dumbest idea ever. Mark and I were getting along great! It was amazing, really. But then everything got… heated. He started making fun of me for not getting a boyfriend after him, kept asking me if I was still in love with him. I had had it. I yelled, "BITE ME, PUMPKIN HEAD ALBINO FUCKER!" and jumped off the fire escape.

Thank God, that, by the time I had realized what I was doing, I had landed on a discarded mattress. When I got up and steadied myself, I waved goodbye and went off. Fast forward five years, to me sitting in the small café smiling at the very boy who'd brought me to hell and back.

"So… five years. What've you been up to all this time, Davis?" he asked me, and I shook my head and laughed.

"I've pursued my dream as a freelance reporter for the New York Times. Half the reason why I came back. Before this? Two years in London. Two years in prison. A year of catching up. I hope that adds up to five." I suppose I had caught his attention with "prison," because his head lifted slowly.

"…Prison? Why?" he asked, and I smiled and took his hand.

"Don't worry, it was all a misunderstanding. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to keep someone's life from ending the same way April's did. The cops caught me with the baggie and the money. The money was an accident, ahah. But two years because of disorderly conduct. As far as the 'rents know, I've been here for the last five years of my life."

"And the freelance writer career. That sounds… prestigious. Even for you. The New York Times is honestly accepting your writing? And what were you doing in London?" he asked me, and I counted on my fingers.

"Well, I've had a book idea for a while. And yes, the New York Times is all for my writing, and I was in London because I needed to get away. As soon as I stepped off that mattress, I bought plane tickets. I was gone. And what about you? What in the world have you been doing these past five years?" He laughed at my question and squeezed my hand.

"Same thing I was doing five years ago, without April and Maureen. Filming the life of we bohemians, the musicians and artists… and the homeless. The people with AIDS are my next step, when we find Collins…" After he said this, he looked at his watch. "Oh my God. It's almost midnight! We should be heading back to the apartment, Roger's probably wondering where we got off to." He stood up and pulled me with him.

"Ahahahah, Roger's always worrying about something… he'll be fine, as long as he took his AZT." I skipped out the door, taking Mark along with me. "But I suppose I could use some sleep after my long journey. I walked! It was fun. I walked from the prison. Back home for a few days. Then to your parents' house. Then here. I've been hitchhiking and bussing and carjacking and working the odd job."

"Well, while you've been living the vagabond life, I've been making the sad story of our lives known." he grimaced, and sensing the slight feeling of pain in his voice, I pulled him closer to me and held his arm with my free hand. I realized how we looked to strangers. I really didn't care. It was the bond that had been there since we had first met, the cousin of the best friend, the best friend of the cousin, that kept this from seeming awkward.

"It's gonna be alright, it's not like life's always going to be this way for you… us." I said hopefully, and he smiled.

"You might be right. You might be wrong. But either way, things may fall into place and we'll learn to live with it."

"Atta boy!" I howled, and jumped on Mark's back. He laughed and tried to keep me up as we ran back to the apartment, Christmases Past forgotten.

***

Turns out I was bunking with Mark, since he had the bigger room. But I slept on a generously supplied pile of blankets and couch cushions, in order to keep the peace, and, as Roger put it, "the mad sex to a minimum." Turns out he could be funny when he wasn't being moody.

That morning, I woke up to the sound of coffee mugs clattering and the smell of bacon. When I sat up after untangling myself from the blankets, I saw Mark stir and smile sleepily at me. The best part about being away for five years was, they forgot I was a total spazz in the morning.

I pulled out an outfit from my trunk, an old red sweatshirt with thick khakis and my old blue and white scarf, and got dressed in Roger's room, seeing as he was awake and ready for the day. When I was finished changing, I walked out into the kitchen and gasped. I thought I was looking in an oddly placed mirror when I saw Mark standing in front of me, wearing almost the exact same outfit I was.

"Hey guys, Merry Christmas! We got power!" Roger said, sounding extremely cheerful. Mark and I grabbed a mug and tried to avoid each other's eyes. As soon as we sat down and got comfortable, talking about Roger's "wild night" with the S&M dancer downstairs, the door burst open, and a happy familiar voice shouted,

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, BITCHES!" And Collins walked through the door, carrying a bucket, and the apartment keys in his mouth. He tossed the keys to Mark and said, "Here're your keys."

Mark caught them, if not by the tips of his fingers. "Yeah, fourteen hours later." I came up behind Mark and asked the question that was on everyone's mind,

"What the hell happened to you, man?"