The Holiday

by Jane Green

  ‘And did you?’ I asked.

  ‘No, of course not. He was forty dollars! When I had twenty, I broke down and bought a cheap magic set.’

  ‘Which you never used,’ Jason guessed.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘My brother had a ventriloquist dummy,’ I said. Isaac’s eyes widened with envy. ‘He did? Ted?’

  ‘He used it exclusively to terrify me. I thought it was so creepy looking – those expressionless eyes and that painted rubber hair. So Ted would open the bathroom door and lob it at me when I was in the tub, or leave it under my blankets at night to scare me to death when I unwittingly crawled into bed with it.’

  I braced myself for Isaac to remark on all the creepy dummies I had crawled into bed with since then. I mean, I had set myself up. But he didn’t. Maybe he was trying to behave.

  He shook his head in disgust. ‘What a waste of a good dummy.’

  ‘What’s your gift that got away?’ I asked Jason.

  He squinted at the road, concentrating. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I can’t think of anything.’ He flashed one of those perfect smiles at me. ‘I guess I always felt lucky.’

  Isaac and I exchanged quick glances. Was he kidding?

  Apparently, he wasn’t

  Remembering Jason’s very different history, I felt my cheeks burn, as if we had just been implicitly rebuked for pettiness, like greedy children. I suddenly wanted to repeat that it was a game – Isaac’s idea, not mine – and all in fun. And that I wasn’t really bitter about that Easy-Bake Oven. I felt lucky, too. Incredibly lucky. Really.

  I cleared my throat. ‘My favorite gift ever was this coat I got when I was nine. It was fake leopard fur. I loved it. I used to take naps in it.’

  ‘My favorite gift ever was my bike,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Oh! Mine too,’ I said.

  Isaac glowered at me. ‘You already said your favorite gift was a coat.’

  ‘I forgot about my bike,’ I said. ‘But I guess a bike is probably everybody’s favorite gift when they’re a kid.’

  ‘Did you take naps with your bike, too?’ Isaac asked snarkily.

  I answered him with a brief raspberry, then turned to Jason, trying to rope him back into the conversation. ‘What did your bike look like?’

  ‘I’ve never owned a bike,’ he said.

  Isaac and I fell silent.

  ‘It always looked like a whole lot of fun, though,’ Jason added.

  I felt like weeping. Forget mufflers and watches and boxer shorts. At that moment, I wished I could travel back in time and buy Jason a Huffy with a banana seat.

  ‘So, Isaac,’ Jason said, cutting through the funeral pall that had settled over us since his bike revelation. ‘Holly tells me you’re a Knicks fan.’

  I had? I couldn’t remember this, but if Jason said it, it must be true. Unlike most guys I dated, who seemed to filter out 90 percent of conversation, Jason had a fantastic memory. He paid attention, absorbing every word, every inflection. He was amazing.

  ‘My office gets tickets sometimes,’ he went on. ‘I’ll have to snag a few and we can all go.’

  ‘Holly doesn’t like basketball,’ Isaac said.

  Jason darted a surprised look at me. And no wonder. We had sat through an entire televised game just the week before. It had been numbingly long, but I had been with Jason, so I hadn’t minded. We got to snuggle on the couch, at least.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like basketball –’

  ‘She doesn’t like any sports,’ Isaac interrupted. Rather gleefully, too. Like a little kid tattling.

  ‘We’ve had this conversation before,’ I reminded Isaac. ‘I like sports.’

  He snorted. ‘Right. Your last-five-minutes rule.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Jason asked.

  Isaac propelled himself farther between the bucket seats, until he had almost inserted himself into the front of the car. ‘Holly thinks the only interesting part of a game is the last five minutes.’

  ‘Well – isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘That’s the suspenseful part if it’s a close game. And if it’s not close, who cares anyway?’

  They glared at me as if I had committed heresy, as if I had just insulted the very word sports. For the next thirty minutes, they talked about the Knicks and their chances for a championship. (Zero.) Also, their failures of the past. (Innumerable.)

  Half listening, I stared out the window at ditches and bare trees. I started nodding off.

  Then they moved on to football.

  By the time we reached the first rest stop, Jason and Isaac seemed like old buds. As Isaac trudged off to get a cup of machine coffee, I stood by the gas tank with Jason, hopping and slapping my gloved hands in a failing bid to create warmth. I longed to rush inside into the heated rest stop and inspect the aisles of unhealthy snacks as Isaac was doing, but the way things were going I was afraid this would be my only chance to talk to Jason for a while.

  ‘I like Isaac,’ Jason said. ‘I don’t know why you were so hesitant to take him along on this trip.’

  I bent my head forward. ‘Hesitant?’ I repeated, all innocence.

  I know what you’re thinking. Hesitant was a mild way to describe how I’d felt. I flat out hadn’t wanted him along. But how did Jason know that?

  ‘Well, I just assumed … you didn’t ask till the last minute,’ Jason said. ‘And let’s face it. When you did ask, you didn’t sound thrilled.’

  ‘Oh, but –’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I wasn’t over the moon about it myself.’

  I laughed in disbelief. ‘You seemed so gung ho when I brought the idea up! You acted like having a passenger would make your day.’

  He gave his head a rueful shake. ‘I don’t know how you could think that. To tell you the truth, I’d always wondered about Isaac. I didn’t know what was going on with you two.’

  I leapt on this new tidbit. Was that why he had been reticent about sleeping together?

  ‘Nothing like you were imagining,’ I assured him.

  He chuckled. ‘I can see that now. You guys argue so much it’s a miracle you’re still friends at all.’

  ‘We just have friendly disagreements every once in a while.’

  He looked at me as if I had gone mad. But I hadn’t, not at all; I mean, yes, Isaac and I argued, but it was mostly in fun. I didn’t want Jason to misinterpret this as genuine hostility. It was as if I had been on a month-long job interview; I didn’t want him to think that I was in any way difficult to get along with.

  I vowed that I would avoid arguing with Isaac for the rest of the trip. No matter what happened.

  ‘Isaac’s just been cranky lately because he broke up with his girlfriend,’ I said.

  ‘Over a month ago,’ Jason reminded me.

  I tilted my head. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘You told me.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘Our first date, remember?’ To prove it, he said, ‘Helen.’

  Good heavens. He really did have a good memory. ‘I can’t believe I wasted part of our first date talking about Isaac’s love problems.’

  He laughed. ‘Why not? We had to talk about something. A flaky songwriter is as good a subject as any.’

  I blinked. I had forgotten Helen was a songwriter. She had aspirations of being the next Alanis Morissette. She had made a CD of her songs (accompanied by herself on guitar) that she had titled ‘Inspirations.’

  Poor Isaac!

  Just as we were finishing up, Isaac came out carrying a cup of coffee and a big bag of Funyons. (Funyons and Bugles were our favorite road food, but no way was I eating a Funyon in front of Jason.)

  ‘Hey, do your nieces have Frosty the Snowman?’ Isaac asked me. ‘The gas station has copies for three ninety-nine when you fill up.’

  ‘Three ninety-nine? I can barely stand to watch it for free.’ Though of course I always did. Every year. I cry during that one, too, but of the big Christmas specials – the Grinch, Rudolph, Peanuts, Frosty – it co
mes in a distant fourth. ‘Jimmy Durante’s always rubbed me the wrong way.’

  All the creases fell out of Isaac’s face. He looked perplexed. ‘What’s Jimmy Durante got to do with Frosty the Snowman?’

  Was he kidding? ‘He’s the narrator. He even sings the song.’

  ‘No he doesn’t. Burl Ives does.’

  ‘No, it’s Jimmy Durante,’ I said, remembering too late that I wasn’t supposed to argue with Isaac. Anyway, there are some things you just can’t let pass. ‘Burl Ives sings “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” ’

  ‘Right. He’s in Frosty, too. He’s the snowman.’

  Isaac could be so wrong. So mulishly wrong. (Like he was about Charles Dickens.) ‘No, Burl Ives is a snowman in Rudolph, but he’s not Frosty the Snowman. He’s not in Frosty the Snowman at all. He has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Well, I know Jimmy Durante isn’t Frosty the Snowman,’ Isaac said.

  How on earth did I get into this? ‘I never said he was! He just sings the song.’

  I sent Jason a look of exasperation and discovered to my dismay that he was staring at both of us with cool detachment. See? His gaze seemed to say. You argue.

  Damn.

  Isaac eyed me with playful contempt and pity. ‘It’s just tragic when someone thinks they’re right and they’re not.’

  By now I felt like hopping up and down and screeching at him.

  ‘Um, kids?’ Jason asked. He apparently wasn’t used to people coming to blows over trivia, and now he was staring at us as if we had both lost our minds. This was just what I had been worried about when Isaac told me he wanted to come along. ‘Shouldn’t we get back on the road?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  The minute Jason’s back was turned, I gave Isaac a swift kick.

  ‘It was Burl Ives,’ he mouthed.

  Back in the car, Isaac put in his Bonanza cast CD, and we were treated to Lorne Greene singing ‘Home for the Holidays.’

  ‘So what’s the nocturnal setup chez Ellis while you two are there?’ Isaac asked.

  Jason and I shifted stiffly in our bucket seats.

  ‘My parents have a guest room,’ I reminded Isaac. He knew this.

  ‘Doesn’t Maddie’s fiancé always stay in that room?’

  ‘This year he can sleep on the couch,’ I said.

  ‘I thought the nieces slept on the couch.’

  I decided that Isaac knew an unseemly amount about my family and its sleeping arrangements.

  ‘Maddie’s fiancé?’ Jason asked, confused. ‘How long have they been engaged?’

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t told him that my sister was a serial bride to be. I didn’t want him to think I had compulsive engagement disorder in my genes.

  ‘Maddie brings her boyfriends home every year. She calls them fiancés. I have no idea who will pop up this year on her arm – not that it matters. I assure you we’ll never see the guy again.’

  ‘Disposable fiancés.’ Isaac chomped down on a Funyon. ‘The ultimate convenience.’

  ‘That sounds … quirky …’ Jason did not seem amused.

  ‘That’s just Maddie,’ I said, on the defensive now. How is it that your family can drive you absolutely nuts, but the moment someone else sounds the least bit critical, blood instantly becomes thicker than water? That’s how I was, especially with Maddie. I guess a person always feels protective of their next youngest sibling. Even when that sibling never had an honest trouble in her life to be protected from.

  Isaac returned to the top of his script. ‘Still, with that many people in the house, things are bound to get mighty interesting. Especially at night.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jason asked.

  Glancing in the vanity mirror, I could see Isaac smiling impishly. ‘You know, little feet going pitter patter after the elder Ellises have gone to bed.’ And he obviously didn’t mean the little feet would belong to my nieces. ‘I bet that house will just be rife with Christmas canoodling.’

  Jason laughed good-naturedly. I might have let out a halfhearted chuckle. True, I had my lingerie stash and plenty of holiday hope. But after Jason had waited a month for the perfect moment, I also reserved a little skepticism that our magic moment would arrive in my twin bed in my old room, which still had remnants of my teenage life strewn about. Back when I was fifteen I was obsessed with the movie The Last of the Mohicans. My prized possession from those days was the giant movie poster, picturing Daniel Day-Lewis running toward the camera. He was such a babe – that chest, those thighs bulging against his buckskins, that flowing hair! The poster was still there, the focal point of the room. Did we really want to consummate our love with Natty Bumppo staring down at us?

  Isaac poked me on the shoulder. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this!’

  I cleared my throat. ‘I … uh … no.’

  He laughed. ‘Liar.’

  My face was beet red. Couldn’t he drop it?

  ‘I promised Holly I would be a perfect gentleman,’ Jason said.

  I turned in shock. He had not!

  Isaac asked in amazement, ‘You did?’

  Jason nodded, then winked at me. ‘As always.’

  I tossed a glare at the backseat. But that wink confused me. Did Jason mean he really was going to be a gentleman (drat!) or did he mean he was lying to Isaac?

  Isaac looked nonplussed, and for a while there was just the sound of Lorne Greene and Isaac munching thoughtfully on his Funyons.

  I was hoping that would be the end of the discussion, but I should have known better.

  ‘You mean you two have never … ?’ Isaac let the question dangle.

  ‘No,’ we bit out in unison.

  Isaac laughed. Laughed. ‘No wonder Holly’s been acting so crazed!’

  Jason’s head snapped around to inspect me. ‘Crazed?’

  I tossed up my hands. ‘I’ve been happy,’ I said, turning on Isaac. He was grinning like a demon elf. ‘And don’t go criticizing me, Mr Wiseguy. You’ve got your moods. Ever since the Helen breakup you’ve just been moping around and snapping my head off for no reason.’

  Since before Thanksgiving he’d been crabby. For as long as Jason and I had been going out, I had barely been able to talk to Isaac without having an argument.

  ‘I’ve had reason,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Well, for God’s sake,’ I said, rolling me eyes, ‘don’t be so mysterious. Are you sick? Have you …?’

  My mouth clamped shut. Blood drained out of my face.

  For as long as Jason and I had been going out.

  But that couldn’t be … could it?

  Isaac held my gaze in the vanity mirror for a second longer before biting into another chip. ‘A psychological holiday slump,’ he explained.

  ‘Ah,’ Jason said.

  My brain reeled for a moment. Was Isaac purposefully messing with my head? Or maybe I was leaping to the wrong conclusion.

  But since when did he fall prey to holiday depression?

  He smiled at me in the mirror. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of those fabled Hanukkah blues?’

  He was messing with my head. I suddenly lost patience with both him and the cast of Bonanza. With a sharp jab, I ejected Isaac’s CD and found an oldies radio station. It was playing ‘Frosty the Snowman.’

  And the singer was Burl Ives.

  Dumbstruck, I stared at the radio knobs. This was so wrong!

  I could feel Isaac’s triumphant smile beaming from the backseat. ‘Told you,’ he said.

  ‘It was Jimmy Durante in the television show,’ I insisted. Was I going crazy? I appealed to Jason. ‘You believe me, don’t you?’

  He appeared hesitant to venture into the argument. ‘Is it worth ruining a friendship over?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Isaac and I chimed in unison.

  Then we burst out laughing.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I know you’re in a hurry to get to your Frank Capra Christmas,’ Isaac told me as he was climbing out of the backseat when we dropp
ed him off. ‘So I won’t ask you in.’

  I shivered in the cold, waiting for him to grab his bag so I could get back in the car. This was the trouble with a two-door. ‘You’ll come by the house? Everybody will want to see you.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he said, playing hard to get all of a sudden. Then he leaned in the car and thanked Jason again for the ride.

  ‘Call me!’ I jumped back in, glad to be back in the warmth.

  Jason idled the motor while we watched Isaac trudge up to his front door. I wondered if Isaac felt a little melancholy to be back at his parents’ house, alone again. His folks nagged him about his life as much as mine did. A strong tug of camaraderie welled up inside me, of loyalty toward Isaac and all those adults returning solo to the nest this year, even though I’d hit it lucky.

  ‘Great guy,’ Jason said.

  ‘Mm.’

  It suddenly occurred to me that Jason had never said anything bad about anybody in my hearing. He liked everybody … which was sort of puzzling. I mean, yes, he liked me. But what did it mean to be liked by someone who never met a person he didn’t like?

  And I had to wonder … what kind of person couldn’t remember one thing he wanted and didn’t get?

  As we drove through my old neighborhood I got fired up again, pointing out landmarks of my illustrious past. My high school! Bungalow Billiards! My best friend from seventh grade Stacy Sheinman’s house! But when we pulled up into the driveway of my parents’ place, I felt a stab of disappointment. And bewilderment. Of course it was daylight, so the fact that there were no outside lights on was not at all surprising. But I didn’t see any evidence of decoration. The house looked naked. There were no wire reindeer on the roof. The mailbox and the lampposts didn’t have bows on them. And where was the giant inflatable polar bear?