Authors: Kim Fielding
Gio stepped closer. “Why shouldn’t I put effort into you?” he asked, his voice a little whispery.
Mirroring his earlier gesture, I spread my arms—a little asymmetrically due to the cast. “Nate Roth, accounts receivable. I drive a compact Japanese sedan. I had a goldfish but it died. My two houseplants are struggling. My clothes are from Old Navy. My mom is a lawyer and my dad’s a junior high vice principal. I almost killed myself riding a five-year-old’s trike down a hill—and that’s not the first time I pulled a stupid stunt. It’s not even the first time this
month
. My friends think I should be a candidate for the Darwin Awards. And I can’t even remember to pack the stupid gift cards I bought for Hanukkah!”
He waited patiently through my little tirade, then settled a hand on my shoulder. “You’re cute. I told you that already. I bet you’re even cuter when you’re all in one piece. And, yes, I’ve never had any problems finding hot guys who are willing to sleep with me.” He sighed. “Well, that makes me sound sleazy, doesn’t it? Anyway, you’re funny. I work from home, which is great because I can travel to shows or races whenever I want. But it can feel… isolated. And when I’m with other people, well, I’ve spent way too much time around those who take themselves way too seriously. None of them would ride a tricycle, let alone admit it to a stranger. I take myself too seriously too. Even when I play, it’s… dog shows and bike races. Nothing just for fun, for the hell of it. I think
you
would be interesting to hang out with. Besides, Libby likes you.”
She wagged her tail when Gio said her name.
I was going to respond, but he squeezed my shoulder. “And the part about the gift cards? Every Christmas, my parents send me a card with a drawing of Jesus and Mary. That’s all I hear from them. They don’t approve of my lifestyle.” He sighed. “I’d take a gift card or convenience-store present anytime. It shows that the giver cares.”
“You spend the holidays alone?”
“I used to visit my nonna. She was this tiny, fierce lady who cared more about me than about my ‘lifestyle.’ She paid for my flight to Italy every December, and when she died, she left every damn euro to me.”
That was way more emotional intimacy than I would have thought possible with a guy I’d met in a parking lot less than an hour earlier. Gio looked sincere, though. And I told myself that if he was willing to look past my bruises and stitches and see someone intriguing, well, I could look past his glamor and see a nice man who was also pretty lonely.
“I’m feeling grateful,” I said softly, reaching up with my good arm to stroke his cheekbone.
He was only an inch or so taller than me, so it was easy for our lips to meet. His were soft. And he was gentle, aware of the painful way I’d rearranged my face. He ran his fingers through my hair, which tended toward a Jewfro when I went too long between haircuts. “I’ve always envied men with curls,” he whispered in my ear.
God. Only three things kept me from tearing off his clothes and jumping him then and there. First, his shirt looked really expensive, and I wasn’t sure I could manage a manly rip with one arm in a cast. Second, Libby was watching us from the bed, her wide pink tongue lolling from her mouth. And third, my family was waiting for me.
“I, uh, have to go.” I pulled away regretfully. “For now, I mean. But tomorrow?”
He looked pleased. “A date? Will your people let you go for an evening?”
“I think so.” Heck, if I told them I was going to meet a guy—a handsome guy with a decent job and an adorable dog—they’d probably drive me over to his place and leave me on the doorstep with a bow around my neck.
“Good. I can make dinner reservations and we can—” He stopped abruptly and gave me a considering look. “No. You know what I’d really like? If
you
made the plans.”
“Really? Why?”
He chucked my chin, avoiding the stitches. “Because if it’s up to me, we’ll have dinner somewhere expensive, maybe go to a movie or a nice bar afterward, or…. Boring. I have the feeling you can come up with something unique.”
Wow. No pressure there, huh? “My ‘something unique’ tends to end up in hospital visits.”
“I’ll take the risk.”
We exchanged phone numbers, I gave Libby a good rub behind the ears, and Gio and I kissed again. And before I knew it, I was heading north in my car. I can’t say I was any less filled with anxiety than I had been before I met Gio, but I was considerably less miserable. And liberally dusted with dog hair.
W
HEN
I
said I was heading to my parents to celebrate Hanukkah, you might have formed a certain image…. You can erase that idea now. We aren’t exactly devout. My parents sent me to Jewish summer camp a couple of times when I was a kid—so I could learn my heritage, they said—but I was never bar mitzvahed, and the only times I’d stepped foot in a synagogue were for weddings. Our usual Hanukkah dinner? Latkes and a big baked ham. You scoff, but I’ll tell you: ham goes really well with potato pancakes.
Anyway, the house smelled great when I walked inside, schlepping my suitcase and the bags full of gifts. Everyone else was already there, and most of them rolled their eyes at my injuries.
Mom hugged me, gave me a peck on an unbruised section of my cheek, and shook her head. “Do I want to know?” she asked.
I sighed. “Not really.”
She didn’t press. Dad lugged my suitcase to my room, the same room in which I’d spent my nerdy childhood and angsty teen years. My parents had never quite got around to redecorating it, and the walls still sported posters of NSYNC,
The Matrix
, and Johnny Depp. In the living room, I removed the gifts from the bags and settled them among the other presents in front of the fireplace nobody ever used. Mom raised her eyebrows at the fast-food wrapping paper but didn’t say anything.
We all sat around the living room for a while, some people on chairs and couches, the rest of us on the floor. My niece Emma, who’s three, plopped herself into my lap and had a wonderful time playing with my cast. When I realized I still had Gio’s Sharpie in my pocket, I let Emma and her sister, Rose, write on the plaster. Emma drew a squiggle that she insisted was her name in cursive, while Rose carefully printed her own full name and then sketched several creatures from a Disney cartoon.
My nieces think I’m cool. They’ll probably outgrow that when they hit their teens, but for now I like being nifty Uncle Nate.
The adults talked about the stuff we always do—work, vacations, movies, home repairs. My sister, Leah, went on one of her usual political rants, even though the lot of us share the same lefty views. Dad said he was considering retiring, but he’s been saying that for a few years now. My brother, Ben, and his wife announced that they were thinking about getting a dog.
“Newfoundlands are pretty cool,” I said, and everyone looked at me.
“Suddenly you’re an expert?” asked Ben. He’s a pediatrician. We get along, but he’s six years older than me and has never admitted the possibility that I might know something he doesn’t.
“No. But I know someone who has one, and she’s sweet. Big and drooly, but mellow. He says the breed’s great with kids.”
Oops.
Everyone stared at me, clearly interested in something besides dog breeds. I pretended to admire my nieces’ artwork.
“Who’s ‘he’?” Mom asked.
“Just a guy I know.”
“A guy?”
I squirmed under her scrutiny. She’s a lawyer, remember. “He’s… I just met him, okay?” I didn’t explain the circumstances. “And we, uh, sort of have a date tomorrow.”
I could tell Mom was winding up for a cross-examination, so I glanced out the window. “Hey, look, Emma and Rose! The sun is setting. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Emma didn’t know because she was too young, but Rose sure did. “Presents!” she screeched. Then they were both jumping up and down and dancing around the living room, and Mom’s interrogation was temporarily foiled.
We’re not complete philistines. Before we unwrapped anything, Dad said the prayers and Mom lit the candles. Emma and Rose got to light candles too, only theirs were electric, and their smiley-face menorah played a tinny version of the dreidel song each time they pressed a button. I was grateful there were only two candles this time, and that I would be home well before the eighth night.
Then it was time for presents.
We have a tradition. Everyone takes turns opening the gifts from Mom and Dad, then Ben, and so forth in order of age. Because my nieces are too young yet to give presents, that left mine for last. I was jittering with nerves.
“I’m doing something new this year,” I told everyone. I hoped I looked credible as I used Gio’s plan. “Little gifts today, bigger ones by mail at the end of Hanukah. It, uh, draws out the celebration.”
My family looked slightly skeptical, but nobody protested.
The girls went first. Shopping for them had been simple because little kids are easy to please. Emma was slightly disappointed that she didn’t get a hamburger—yes, even at three she recognizes the logo—but ended up mollified when she realized she’d scored three giant chocolate bars instead. Ben and his wife gave me dirty looks, but hey, all’s fair during Hanukkah.
Rose hugged her new pad of paper and box of markers as she beamed.
I’d bought Ben and his wife paper and markers too, and at first they seemed puzzled. “Because Rose loves to draw so much,” I explained. “I thought maybe some nights after Emma’s tucked away in bed, the three of you might enjoy some bonding time.” And you know what? My sister-in-law beamed too, and Ben reached over to ruffle my hair.
Leah’s husband got a car air freshener shaped like a palm tree.
I clarified. “I know how much you love your Mustang, and the piña colada scent will remind you of when you and Leah honeymooned in Hawaii.”
My brother-in-law is not an emotional sort, but he grinned widely. “Thanks, man. That’s cool.”
Leah looked puzzled over her first aid kit.
“Do you remember when we were kids?” I asked her as she turned the box over in her hands. “Every time I skinned a knee or bonked my head, you would rush over with Band-Aids or an ice pack or whatever. I know you didn’t get to go to med school”—unlike Ben, Leah had found science classes difficult and frustrating, and she’d ended up in HR instead—“but I wanted you to know you were my first EMT, and definitely the most eager.”
She sniffled a little and petted the box. “I had to patch you up a
lot
.”
“I know. And I obviously haven’t changed much.” I slightly lifted the cast.
Mom’s tough as old shoe leather, but Dad’ll get teary-eyed over sad commercials. So he was already wiping his glasses even before he opened his gift. “Playing cards,” he said. I’d bought him several packs.
“Yeah. Because when you and your poker buddies get together, I know that’s the only time you let yourself stop being Mr. Responsible and act like a kid again. You should do it more often.”
“Thanks, Natey.” He wiped his glasses again.
Finally it was Mom’s turn. Her gift was small, and she inspected it before slowly unwinding the sandwich wrapper. “A cigarette lighter? Did you want me to take up smoking?” She smiled at me.
“Nope. Although don’t think I’m unaware of what you and Dad were up to when you went to Seattle last time.” It was a wild guess, but I knew I’d scored when she blushed a little. Yep, my parents had taken advantage of Washington’s relaxed marijuana laws. “But that’s not why I bought it. It’s because you always make sure we’re all here for Hanukkah, no matter how busy everyone is. And you light the candles for us. It’s… it means a lot to me, Mom, to know that no matter where I am or what I’ve done, you insist that I join the rest of the family every single year.”
Was that a tear I saw in her eye? And, God, now my throat felt thick too.
“Nathan, I’m very proud of you—of what you’ve done and who you are. The holiday would never feel complete to any of us if you weren’t here.”
Group hugs ensued.
We all ate far more latkes than were good for us, and then I played dreidel with my nieces until they had cleaned out my stock of pennies. I helped Ben load his daughters’ enormous haul of new toys into his car, gave the girls noisy kisses, and hugged my sister-in-law. “I like the new Hanukkah tradition,” Ben said before he climbed into the passenger seat. “Good idea, little brother.”
Well, I’ll be damned.
Leah and her husband live in LA, so they’d be spending the next few nights in her old bedroom. We stayed up late with Mom and Dad, playing cutthroat games of Clue and Scrabble. Mom either forgot to ask about Gio or, more likely, decided to save it for the next day.
As I tucked myself into my old twin bed with the Star Trek comforter, I decided what I wanted to do with Gio the next day.
I
SLEPT
late. Even after I woke up, I spent a long time in bed, looking at my familiar surroundings and feeling cozy. I was just considering whether to call Gio when my phone buzzed.
Still grateful?
the text read.
I didn’t quite have the guts to tell him my plans yet, so I composed a quick response.
Very. Convenience store gifts were a hit. I’ll call later, ok?
Okay.
I threw on some sweats and emerged from my room. My brother-in-law is nuts about trains, so he, Leah, and Dad had already left for a visit to the railroad museum in Old Sacramento.
“You didn’t want to go too, did you, honey?” Mom asked from her spot at the kitchen table. She was in pajamas and a robe and looked sleepy, a big mug of coffee steaming in front of her.
“Nah.”
“Want some breakfast? Dad bought jelly donuts.”
I was still a little full from last night’s latkes. “Not now, thanks. Hey, what are the dinner plans for tonight?”
“I thought you had a date.”
Yeah, I knew she hadn’t forgotten. “I do, but….”
“We were just going to make another batch of latkes and reheat the leftover ham.”
“Is… is there enough for another person?” I didn’t meet her eyes.