Hi, würdest du bitte mit der Nr. 66 etwas für Ringsy schreiben. Gern auch in Englisch, wenn dir das lieber ist 😃❤️
Aber gerne doch ❤️ Einen Tag zu spät zwar, aber ich erweitere Nikolaus mal aufs Wochenende
How could I ever forget about you?
“You don’t have to walk me to work, Honey, unless - - is there possibly a new street gang around that I’m not aware of?”
“Not yet”, Ringo replies smirking, “and since when do I need a reason to spend some extra-time with my husband?”
“No reason needed. I just thought - well, you’ve been up pretty late all week writing applications - - so maybe you could do with some rest now?”
“I can take a nap later if this would make you feel better”, Ringo offers sarcastically, still grinning broadly, “but how can one be expected to stay in bed alone all morning when one knows that someone has filled one’s shoes with chocolate and wine gum? I had to get up.” Easy looks at him suspiciously.
“I hope, you are not doing this here because you think I am mad at you for forgetting St.- Nicholas’ Day? That’s fine, Hase, really!”
“It sure is. To be honest, I didn’t expect it any differently. You are just not the type.”
“And that’s okay. Surprising me with a picknick when I am sad? That’s you. Giving away chocolate on a day everyone is giving away chocolate? Not very Richard Beckmann.”
“Well, now I feel stupid.”
“Why-?”, Easy starts wondering but he doesn’t need to finish his question because as he is opening the kiosk’s door there is one of his almost unused sports shoes standing in the middle of the shop’s floor, filled with his favourite cookies. “Aww”, he exclaims excitedly while picking up his gift, “So, you didn’t forget?” Ringo is leaning against the door frame as usual when seeing him off to work. “Of course, I didn’t”, he softly says, “how could I ever forget about you?”
“Maybe if the new street gang came along and hit you hard on the head?”
“Yeah, okay, I let you have this one. But other than that, I would never forget about you and your love for cheesy traditions.”
Easy is standing close to him now, eyeing him curiously.
“But why here? Why not at the flat share?”
Furrowing his eye brows, Ringo leans down a bit.
“I may have changed, Bärchen, but I am still not suicidal. Tobias would have never let me hear the end of it.”
“What makes you so sure your brother hasn’t filled up Vivien’s shoes this morning?”
“Because you don’t put salami canapés with horseradish into shoes.”
Laughing, Easy shakes his head, taking another step forward to be even closer to Ringo.
“Well, thank god, I just like these simple old cookies then or I would have missed you being all cute like that.”
He’s holding the shoe filled with chocolate up as a prove of his husband’s charm and Ringo is looking at his own present with a strange mixture of shame and pride when suddenly an enraged voice chimes up behind them.
“Did St.- Nick give something to YOU!?!”
Holding his father’s hand Noah is standing on the street, furiously staring at the shoe in the kiosk owner’s hand. Looking both tired and worn-out, Till is taking a deep breath and Easy understands at once that - contrary to Ringo - Till has indeed forgotten about today’s special occasion and who could blame him – having to organize his mother’s funeral and dealing with the aftermath of Conor’s rage. Smiling, Easy looks from the angry child in front of him to his present and then back again.
“Oh, you mean this shoe, here? That’s not for me. It’s for you.”
“Then why do YOU have it?”
“Because I am St.- Nick’s distributor in Cologne.”
“But Bambi said, St.- Nick told HIM to help him out with my shoes.”
Easy doesn’t know what to reply but Ringo steps in quickly even if the cheerfulness of his voice clearly sounds fake to anyone who isn’t an unsuspecting child.
“Well, Bambi is an idiot sometimes. Why would St.- Nick ask him to help out when there is someone around who works with sweets professionally. Doesn’t make sense now, does it?”
“It doesn’t”, Noah agrees and only Easy can hear the small dismissive huff his husband lets out because the boy fell for some stupid story that of course doesn’t make any sense. “So, can I have my shoe then?”, Noah asks greedily and Easy wants to hand it over promptly but Ringo grabs it from his hand, searches for something between the cookie boxes and finally takes out a small piece of paper. “Hey, that’s MINE!”, Noah pipes up. “No, it isn’t”, Ringo replies coldly and quickly gets a pen from the kiosk, “It’s a receipt. You have to sign here if you accept the delivery.” He looks at the child quizzical.
“That is… if you even can write your own name.”
“Of course, I can”, Noah yells, grabbing the pen and carefully puts down his name on the paper Ringo is handing him.
“Okay, fine. Then here’s your oversized shoe with Easy’s favourite cookies. Enjoy.”
Excitedly, Noah grabs the sneaker and digs through the sweets that have been put inside while his father’s hand ruffles through his hair. “Thank you”, Till mouthes voicelessly and soon both Weigels turn around, walking away towards the agency on the other side of the street. Feeling kind of wistful, Easy is watching them go when suddenly the paper with Noah’s clumsy penmanship is pushed in front of his nose. “Here”, Ringo says rather harshly, “looks like Tobias’ handwriting, doesn’t it? And also - we’ve already had THAT conversation, remember?” A part of him hopes that Easy will focus his attention on the tasteless comment about Tobias’ stroke but of course Easy goes for the other one.
“I can still like children even if we are not ever having one, can’t I?”
“Of course, you can”, Ringo replies softly but with a pointed carelessness, “and I must admit, in comparison to Lotta, Noah is kind of cute.” Fortunately, Easy decides to go along with the distraction. “But she gave you such a nice wedding gift”, he says mockingly to which Ringo rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Doesn’t know when a gag has gone stale, does she? Well, what can you expect from someone who was raised by Britta Schönfeld. That girl is evil, I’m telling you.”
“And you still would have played along if it had been her standing there being all sad that St.- Nicholas forgot about her.”
“Lotta is too old to believe in that stuff.”
“Well, I can’t see little girls cry even if they are evil… but I also think, children shouldn’t be lied to with all this Santa crap.”
Involuntarily, Easy chuckles. Ringo raises one of his eyebrows questioningly. “Sorry, but you being outraged about people telling some innocent little lies – you do see where that is funny, don’t you?”, Easy asks shily, dimples showing and eyes glistening. “I do”, Ringo nods earnestly, “but I really have my principles when it comes to that one - if only because I am still not over the fact that Kira found out before I did.” He frowns and Easy steps closer again, putting his arms around him.
“Poor Richard. Your secret is safe with me. I am a little surprised though that your parents did the Santa thing.”
Ringo smiles absently letting himself slump into Easy’s hug who tenderly caresses his back in return.
“They were really weird, weren’t they? Unconventional and conventional as they pleased. Always surprising.”
“Always surprising is such a Beckmann thing”, Easy says softly, letting go of Ringo, provokingly fumbling around with the paper his husband rescued from becoming Noah’s property. “You might wanna read that when I am gone”, Ringo teases and because he really wants to know what is written on it other than N O A H, Easy firmly puts a hand onto Ringo’s chest and pushes him out of the kiosk’s door, letting him walk backwards until his husband suddenly turns around and starts striding homewards on his own. Unfolding the piece of paper Easy reads Ringo’s message:
Dear Easy, I assume, somewhere down the line I am expected to write a reply to your Hase/Bärchen-letter, am I right? Well, not today because I got a LIFETIME left to do so and I am taking my time. Please don’t forget to pick up the suits from the dry cleaning. I love you. Ringo
