Jerry brought the stuff over a little after noon, figuring worst case he’d just leave it on the porch. Along with a fresh turkey of fifteen pounds, a Tupperware container of stuffing mix: onions, mushrooms, celery all chopped in, all ready to go, and balanced on top a pumpkin pie, everything homemade, he had a treat to take care of Diablo, the neighbor’s pesky German Shepherd, but as it turned out Joyce was there to answer the door.

“I brought you a turkey,” Jerry said, “just in case.” His arms were full, not that he expected a hug.

Puzzled for a moment, Joyce said, “That’s sweet of you.”

“Um, where should I put it?”

Jerry could hear Mark in the background, his jolly, “Who’s there, honey?”

“Oh, just set it down. Set it down anywhere. We’ll figure out refrigerator space later.”

“Did you have one? You can always use an extra turkey, right?”

“Right. Thanks.”

“I didn’t know if you’d got one. I was thinking maybe you hadn’t, you know? You were always ... And what with it being so close to Christmas...”

“Look, I’d ask you in, but ... but we’re kind of, you know?”

“Are Jimmy and Jeff...?” Peering over Joyce’s shoulder Jerry could see the tree, lots of lights, tinsel, bright shiny ornaments, and underneath lots and lots of handsomely wrapped packages. He didn’t see the presents he’d mailed, but that didn’t mean anything—maybe they were buried.

“At friends,” Joyce said.

“Right.”

“Okay,” Jerry said. “Sure, well, Merry Christmas.”

“Right. Merry Christmas.”

“Everything okay, honey?” Jerry heard as the door closed.

In years past Jerry and Joyce stuffed the turkey Christmas morning while the twins played with their new toys. Jerry would hold the bird open while Joyce spooned in the mix. “You love my stuffing,” Jerry always remarked. “I love your stuffing,” Joyce always answered. While the twins napped, or later when they were old enough to play out of doors with their toys guns, with the turkey roasting in a slow oven and the tree lights glittering softly, Joyce and Jerry would make love—not quite a quickie, but urgent just in case—the Christmas afternoon fuck became a tradition, just like the turkey. Driving back to his apartment, Jerry wondered if it was one Joyce and Mark would continue. Or more likely they had traditions of their own, though it’d only been a year, a year to the day that he’d waited up half the night, having tucked Jeffie and Jimmy in, having given them each their bedtime snack and story, having sat by the blinking tree while the traditional bottle of pinot noir sat unopened on the coffee table and the hours limped along.

Joyce said, “That was just Jerry. He’s gone.”

“Oh,” said Mark.

“Remember the office Christmas party last year?” Joyce said, melting into Mark’s embrace. It was where they’d first kissed, the corner near the Xerox, and an hour later the sweet explosion of his handsome cock in her mouth in the supply closet, and an hour after that in her cunt in the cab on the way to his place, and an hour after that in her ass on his pull-out couch not even pulled out. Sometimes she could almost come just thinking about it. Too bad cost-cutting got this year’s company party.

“What’s all this stuff on the porch?” It was Jimmy and Jeff bursting in. Jeffie was holding the pie.

“Just stuff,” Joyce said. “A Christmas pie. Put it down. We’re going to throw it out.”

“Throw it out?” Jimmy cried. “It’s Dad’s pie, isn’t it? Why are we going to throw it out?”

“Yeah, why are we going to throw it out?” Jeffie put in. “We like Dad’s pie.”

“He is a good cook,” Mark said. He laughed heartily. “His restaurant didn’t go under because he was a bad cook.”

“Yeah, let’s keep it,” Jimmy said. “Christmas pie, Christmas pie, Christmas pie,” he and Jeffie chanted.

“No way,” Joyce said. “You two take it out to the garbage right now, and that’s final. And then come in and wash your hands. And stamp your feet real good. It’s starting to snow and I don’t want snow tracked all over the house.”

Glumly the boys did as she’d asked.

The snow continued throughout the afternoon and evening and well into the night. By morning there were some impressive drifts across the backyard, but not quite enough to cover the body of Diablo.