Chapter 21
Dinner is tense and I can’t tell why. I’m sitting between Asher and Hannah’s mother – Beatrice I think, but pronounced like a French word – her husband keeps calling her his chou with a terrible accent – like the train sound, not like the pastry, or so Hannah tells me. Paige and Gabriela are all the way on the other side of the long table, next to Elizabeth and close to the kitchen. I’m being stupid, stealing glances at Paige, maybe because I just had my hands in her hair and her making delightful sounds. Or maybe because I’m bored. Asher keeps putting his hand on my arm on the table – my right arm – making it hard to eat properly, but he hasn’t addressed me for the length of the first and second courses. I turn to Beatrice. “So, Hannah told me she was getting really good at French?”“Oh yes, much better than her father. He only ever wants to learn what he thinks are the romantic trappings of the language.”My eyes flick to the other end of the table and reply a beat late, “I think it’s lovely to grow up speaking more than one language.”
“Isn’t it?” Beatrice doesn’t seem to have realized my inattention. “David keeps telling me she should learn a useful language, like Chinese, but I want her to have connections to her heritage.”I turn my eyes to Paige again as I listen, and back at Beatrice. “Do you often visit France?” “Oh yes, my parents would disown me if they couldn’t see their grandchildren for at least three months per year.”
I am in the process of replying “That sounds lovely” when Asher puts his arm around my shoulders and almost forcibly turns me to his conversation with his father and some cousin I don’t remember. I smile at Beatrice apologetically and shrug his arm off, but I dutifully listen in to see why I should be paying attention.The cousin is saying something about long-term investments so I lean in and whisper to Asher,
“Why are you so tense tonight?” I want to say rude but I wouldn’t want to be overheard and shatter anyone’s notions of proper straight-couple behavior. And Asher is visibly unhappy.He turns to me in kind. “My dad more than implied this afternoon that he and mom were expecting us to get engaged before we see them next.”I hold my grimace in and refrain from turning to anyone else as I take that information in. I’m sure we look more like we are sharing a sweet moment than the revelation that this subterfuge is locking us into a miasma of unpleasantness. The main thought that keeps circling in my mind at the moment is that when we pretend we broke up after a few weeks, I won’t be able to see Paige anymore.“Does that mean I won’t be able to join you for Christmas from now on?” He winces and furtively looks around. “Can we discuss this later?”I blink in surprise, then squint in anger. He’s the one who behaved rudely and then dropped that on me in the middle of his family, and now he’s dismissing my very legitimate question? It tells me all I need to know about how he sees it unfolding and I can’t say I’m not hurt.
He’s right though, we need to talk about it later, so I pull away with a curt “sure” and focus on eating my feelings away without his touch impeding my efforts anymore.“Ash?” Paige is leaning on the doorjamb and watching me in the mirror as I brush my teeth.“Mmh,” I hum as I rinse my mouth. I lean down to spit my mouthful of water out, and when I come back up to wipe my mouth, Paige still hasn’t replied. I let the silence settle to give her the space to formulate whatever is bothering her.Finally, she asks, “Doesn’t it bother you to have to pretend to be straight all over again?” I turn to her fully and watch her for a second, trying to understand where this is coming from.“Sure,” I say cautiously but lightly. I take a step towards her and grab her hand. “It’s not my favorite holiday environment, but I’m happy to be here for you and Asher.”She almost angrily takes a step back into her bedroom and turns away, her hand slipping from my hold. “How are you so chill about this?”She starts stripping, herself and the bed, and I follow suit, turning off the ceiling light, plugging in my phone to charge, taking my time to ponder. I can see this is more about her than me.
“Listen,” I say as I slip in bed. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents over something so trivial.”Immediately, I regret my choice of word. And for good reason, she hisses at me, “It’s not trivial!”“No, I–”
“It’s my entire fucking identity, okay?”“I know, I didn’t mean that is trivial.” I backpedal, but she is barely listening.“It took me a long time to open up about it.” She barrels on.
“I know.” I sigh at myself. “I know. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that.”She doesn’t reply right away and I’m unsure how to continue. I don’t know if I should try to touch her – to comfort her or myself – or if that would be arrogant.Finally, she sighs too and turns to me much more calmly. “No, I’m sorry. You’ve lived it. I know
it’s not what you meant.”I finally reach out to her. “Yeah...” I take her hand and stroke her wrist with my thumb. “Just– as long as it doesn’t cost you more to keep it to yourself than to tell them – well, you know…”
“Yeah, but does it?”“Only you can tell.” I look into her eyes. “But from my experience, there are highs and lows on both sides.”She sighs again and rolls on her back, not letting go of my hand. I turn to switch the bedside lamp off, and roll back to wrap myself along her side. I peck her shoulder before laying my head on it and she kisses the crown of my hair. I don’t drift off to sleep for a long time, and I know she doesn’t either as she keeps stroking my back until I do..
He chuckles. “I’m gonna have to say sorry a lot, aren’t I?”“Only if you mean it.”
“You know I do.” He tightens his arms around me, and I finally start relaxing into the hug.“Yeah but you need to show it too.”“I will.” He strokes my back slowly. “I’m sorry.”I don’t say more for now. I’m trying to think of a way to bring up Gabriela. His phone sounds again in the silence. Three messages in quick succession, which he keeps ignoring. Finally, I feel him inhale to speak and I almost cut him off when he asks, “Should we head back?”
“Gabriela told me about your breakup.” He tenses at that.“Oh,” he says softly.“Yeah, oh.” I bite back. “I’m so mad at you right now.” Not really. Well, yes. But more at the 17 year-old version of him who did this and who showed up at dinner last night. Not the version who is my friend and who welcomed me into his family when he learned my parents wouldn’t answer my calls.“I’ll– I’ll apologize to her.”“Will you be doing that for your sake or for hers?” I ask less bitterly. He doesn’t reply, and when I pull away, he refuses to meet my eyes.“Figure it out first.”“Yeah,” he sighs and I know he will sincerely think about it. “Should we head back now?”
I nod and take his hand. “You might want to put your phone on vibrate, though.” He finally looks at me with a sheepish smile tinged with shy happiness. Inside, the breakfast table is pure chaos as children welcome the day with unearthly vigor, as fathers make themselves scarce, and as mothers attempt to contain their progeny long enough to finish their food. Hannah seems the only kid amongst the ones of appropriate age to be sedate, even a little downcast I think. I see Beatrice busy with her baby and I am about to approach Hannah when I see Paige crouch next to her chair and calmly enquire about her. I keep an eye on them as I go about finding warm sustenance to ward off the chill of a lovely half hour in the snow. When I sit down to eat, Paige glances at me and back at Hannah. She tells her something and scoops her in her arms as she stands, despite Hannah starting to get a little big to lift. She is tall for her age, and it’s easy to forget she is the youngest apart from the babies.Paige looks at me over Hannah’s head resting in the crook of her neck, and I signal to her that I will clean up their breakfast. She smiles gratefully and a little sadly and disappears up the stairs. I take my time to eat my breakfast, scrolling through my email – sorting through all the holiday greetings from anyone and no one, including what feels like all the stores I've ever shopped at.I'm waiting until adults and children are all bundled up to go play in the snow, the plan being, like every year, to tire the little ones out so they won't spy on Santa. And like every year, the adults will quickly drift off to gather on the porch, drinking mulled wine and tasking their preteens to uphold their honor in the long-standing snow-fighting family feud."Such a cruel tradition," I hear from behind me. "Lying to those poor children." I turn around to find Elizabeth frowning thoughtfully to herself. I'm not sure she even meant to address me but looking around shows no one else in the room."I agree."
