“Well we are so glad you’re here, isn’t that right, Frank?” Nancy smoothed the waters swelling and swirling between Max and his father.
“Oh, well of course,” Frank stated.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“How is college life? Cal State East Bay, right?” Camille asked, trying to change the subject to something more upbeat.
At first it didn’t register what she was asking until I remembered that we’d told his family I was in college. Oh my God, I think I might throw up. I must look like a frickin’ idiot! I knew there were going to be questions that would test me—things I knew I’d have to straight-up lie about—I just didn’t think…heck, what am I saying? I just didn’t think period. I knew this lie was going to bite me in the ass.
“Good,” I swallowed roughly.
“How long is your break?” Camille continued pressing.
“Well, um. I…ahh—think just ‘til after New Years,” I stammered.
“Really? Not six weeks, huh?”
“No, she only has a two-week break,” Max said.
“Oh, that’s right; you’re in the accelerated program. They don’t give you much time off,” Camille answered her own question.
“Yeah, something like that,” Max said. I just nodded.
Oh God, we are soooo going to hell.
“Well, neither does that fancy school Max teaches at. They wouldn’t even let him off for Hanukkah. That really upset your mother,” Frank’s voice filled the room.
“Well, Dad, Hanukkah didn’t land on the same schedule as winter break this year. There was no way I could take off any time at the beginning of December, I had finals,” Max defended his choices.
“We know, honey. Your father was just disappointed you couldn’t come celebrate with us, that’s all,” Nancy crooned.
I leaned against Max and whispered in his ear. “Doesn’t Hanukkah happen at the same time as Christmas?”
“Not always,” Max stated before he turned to his mom to refute her account of who was disappointed. That’s when Frank spoke up and answered my question.
“Wilson, Hanukkah follows the Hebrew calendar. Every new moon represents the beginning of a Jewish lunar month; that’s why our holidays tend to move around every year.”
“So Hanukkah can be any time of the year? Not just December?” I asked.
“No, it might creep into the end of November but most of the time it hops around December,” Frank clarified.
I had to admit, I didn’t know much about Judaism. I knew they didn’t celebrate anything relating to Jesus, but—hello, I never really understood the whole thing about how Jesus was a Jew, yet he died for the sins of Christians. And was he really a carpenter? Really? Because the Bible never mentioned him building anything.
“So do you believe in Jesus?” I asked Frank.
I noticed how Max shifted his weight back and forth on his chair and his expression became stoic; I guess the religious conversation Frank and I were having was making him uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, felt informed. Finally, I was learning something about his faith.
“Not as the son of God or our Messiah,” Frank said without hesitation.
I watched as Nancy grabbed Max’s plate and her own and took them into the kitchen.
“Here, Mom, let me help you. Are you finished, Wilson?” Camille asked as she popped up and reached for my plate.
“Yeah, thank you,” I answered before I turned back to Frank. Max stood up and grabbed his dad’s plate and joined his mother and sister in the kitchen.
Wow, do Frank and I know how to clear a room or what?
Frank didn’t skip a beat. “So how does it feel to have December 25th all to yourself?”
“Ah, well, I haven’t really thought about it much,” I smiled.
Actually, it was a bit strange not sitting around the table eating my traditional Birthday/Christmas dinner and singing carols with my grandparents. That’s what was missing—the two cogs that kept the gears of my Christmas in motion were no more.
The lights dimmed in the room and my heart leapt as Max came out with Nancy’s homemade, mixed berry pie and a tall, white birthday candle glowing brightly in the middle.
“Well, I know we can’t take the place of your grandparents; however; I hope we can make perfect memories for your birthday this year,” Nancy spoke softly. My heart pattered.
What she didn’t know was that every moment I spent here with them was filling the hollow space that inhabited my heart.
Camille carried in a stack of plates with a bundle of forks clanking on top. Frank stood up to join the rest of his family as they sang and wished me a happy birthday. My eyes blurred with splashes of thanks.
“Blow out your candle and make a wish,” Max said as he set the pie in front of me. I stood up, took a deep breath, and blew at the flame; it stretched and broadened before it vanished in a swirl of white smoke.
“What’d you wish for?” Max asked as he came over close behind me.
“Hey, no way, I’m not telling. Then it won’t come true.” I elbowed him softly in the ribs.
“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that ol’ superstition! Boyfriends are exempt from creating spoilage of wishes, you know,” he breathed against my ear.
“Don’t you dare tell him—that is not true, Max,” Camille roared as she pulled the candle from the pie before Nancy cut the first piece.
“Camille’s right. Here you go, birthday girl.” Nancy handed me the first piece of her famous mixed berry pie. My mouth watered as I remembered the piece I shared with Max the last time we were in Aspen.
“Hey, now—you’re not sharing with me this time?” Max wrapped his hands around my waist and leaned to the side, holding his mouth open and waiting to have me feed him a bite.
“Heck no, you gotta get your own piece. This is mine.” I smiled and shoved a fork-full into my mouth. An explosion of sweet with a twist of tart flooded my taste buds. The flaky crust crumbled and dissolved into the warm, mixed berry filling against the roof of my mouth.
“Well, Max, it is her birthday,” Camille told him.
He attempted the puppy dog look before trying to convince me more seductively with a kiss to the neck and a push of his body against my backside.
“Oh, Maxi—here take your own piece.” Nancy handed him a huge slice oozing with dark, berry-red juice wrapped in lightly browned, doughy crust.
It wasn’t long before all of us were sitting at the table stuffing our faces with Nancy’s life-altering mixed berry pie. Even if we wanted to talk, we couldn’t, because that would’ve meant we’d have to stop shoveling it in, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
If manners didn’t count tonight, I would have licked my finger and pressed it against the remaining pie crumbs that were too small to cling to my fork before picking up my plate and licking the thin layer of berry filling that taunted my taste buds.
“Ma, you outdid yourself this time. It was the best mixed berry pie you’ve ever made,” Max said before he licked his own finger and dragged it diagonally across the puddle of dark red filling on his plate. I stared at him as if he was Moses parting the Red Sea, and longed to be one of his followers.
“Thanks, I added a little extra sugar—for the birthday girl,” Nancy said as she winked at me.
“Yeah, Nancy, it was delicious. If I wasn’t stuffed, I would thumb wrestle whoever wanted the last piece,” I smiled back. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to run the tip of my finger across my plate.
“Well you’d probably have to beat Max. He keeps eyeballing it from across the table.” Nancy slid her finger along the rim of her plate, catching the contoured edge of the lingering berry juice, and licked the filling clinging to her finger.
“Who’s ready for some football?” Frank stood up and clapped his hands, before rubbing them together. “It’s Chicago at Green Bay—one of the oldest rivalries in football.”
“When does the game start?” Max asked.
�
�Kickoff’s at six twenty. We have just enough time to grab a few beers and watch a little of the pregame,” Frank worked to convince Max.
“Well, hold on, boys. Didn’t you say you were going to take Wilson downtown for her birthday?” Nancy poked her dainty finger at Max as she broke into the conversation between him and his dad.
“That’s right, you did say you would take me downtown,” I backed up Nancy.
“Yeah, Wilson, you have to experience the Twelve Days of Aspen. The whole downtown is decorated. They have sleigh rides and ice skating; and the bands they have performing aren’t half bad either,” Camille said.
The Goldstein women seemed pretty excited about the celebration downtown. I had to admit, it did sound like a must do for people visiting Aspen over the holidays. It must be beautiful if Nancy and Camille were talking about it, and they don’t even celebrate Christmas. It made me really miss Joanie. This sounded like something right up her alley. She loved finding adventurous things to do. She was a mushy tradition-maker and would always make me participate. I can’t say I didn’t love it.
“Okay, that’s right—I did say I would take you downtown to go shopping,” Max agreed.
“Well, looks like I’m on my own,” Frank pouted.
“Not really, honey, help us with the dishes and Camille and I will come watch the game with you.” Nancy didn’t miss a beat.
“Run, son—grab your girl and get the hell out before you get sucked into KP duty,” teased Frank.
“Oh, Frank. Now Wilson, did you pack a heavy jacket? It’s a bit nippy out there,” Nancy said before continuing. “Just use mine, sweetheart; it’s hanging in the hall closet—there are mittens in the pockets.”
Max opened the small closet behind the door leading to the garage and reached in, snatching a pearl white and neon green Patagonia Primo down jacket. Okay, hello, those jackets are special order and go for a good six hundred bucks. There’s no way in hell I’m going to wear that jacket—God forbid I dribble hot chocolate down the front of it. Max held out the jacket, giving it a shake trying to get me to take it; I just backed away.
“Wilson, here—take it,” he huffed as he battled with his own jacket still clinging to the sturdy wooden hanger.
“Why don’t I just go unpack my coat? I don’t want to mess up your mom’s jacket. It’s so nice and…expensive.” I turned to head to our luggage, still sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Max’s jacket finally broke loose, giving him the freedom to stop me from getting to my suitcase.
“Wilson—just put this on so we can go,” Max demanded as he held out the six-hundred-dollar jacket.
I don’t think I’ve ever worn a six-hundred-dollar anything. Wait, I take that back, there was the baby blue Shugga spacesuit Cindy let me wear…and Max managed to get me out of that pretty well.
Max pinched the shoulders of his mother’s Patagonia Primo jacket, holding it out to me, waiting for me to slip into it. Nancy’s jacket was over-the-top comfortable. It felt like I had swags of silk caressing my arms—cool to the skin at first, but in seconds, the chill became a tepid exchange against my skin.
Max turned me around and fed the zipper into the catch and lock before he zipped it up under my chin. “There you go. All warm and ready for the chill of Aspen on your birthday.” His thumbs brushed across the curve of my chin as his eyes held every breath I took. The smell of him so close to me created a fluttering deep within my groin.
When I pushed my hands into the front pockets, clumps of something as soft as the fur on a kitten’s tummy greeted my fingers.
“Thanks,” I whispered as I pulled out snow-white mittens.
“You’re welcome; and hey, you’ll wanna wear those when we get downtown.” He scooped up his jacket, slipped into it, and in one dance-turn, pulled the garage door open.
“After you, gorgeous,” Max mused with a gleam in his eyes and his sexiest smile.
“Maybe you should save that move for when you take me out dancing,” I teased as I swept my hand across his chest.
The arctic air from the garage swirled across my face, capturing my nose and the edges of my ears; good thing this jacket had a hood.
“Oh, so you’ll dance with me tonight? I have the perfect place.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s Polaris. Because anybody who’s anybody goes to Polaris,” I smiled, but Max looked at me confused. Flashes of Cindy cut viciously across my jugular. Without warning, I flashed back to the memories of her that night.
The snotty look she’d given me when I came downstairs dressed in my comfy jeans and sweater; the words she’d spat about Max being my teacher in front of Calvin; and the look on his face when he’d registered what that meant. God, she could have ruined everything. Instead, Max and I had found a way to rise above her snarkiness. She didn’t win, couldn’t win, and would never win. Suddenly the thought of running into her made me a little sick to my stomach. Oh, please don’t let her be downtown tonight.
“Wilson?” Max said breaking the reel of Cindy’s film in my head. “You’re coming with me, right?” Max held open the door of his Z4.
“Yeah, just getting tripped up in thought,” I muttered before I slipped into the car. I didn’t say anything to him about the possibility of Cindy being downtown, and I didn’t want anything to screw up our night. Max, like always, made sure my seat belt was clicked and my door was closed tight before he strode around the car and got in.
“Polaris was the club Cindy wanted you to go to the night you were with me,” Max breathed.
“Yeah, so glad I didn’t go,” I murmured.
“Me too. You’ve never been to downtown Aspen, have you?” Max asked.
“Nope, this will be my first time. I seem to have a lot of first times with you,” I teased.
A smile crept across his face before he reached up, pressed the garage door opener, and backed out, exposing us to the freezing nighttime air of Aspen.
It was pitch black outside as we made our way down his driveway. The stars in the sky spun ancient love stories and the soft glow from his headlights danced against our white-painted future. Hopefully, we were going to be able to create a memory that wasn’t filled with a fear of being discovered together. He and I could be ourselves and live in a complete moment of just boyfriend and girlfriend. I hope Cindy doesn’t show up.
The car swayed along the curves in the road. My heart floated in my chest, tethered by his scent and captured by his smile. I loved that he stole glances my way every couple of turns when the glow of the street lamps lit the space inside the car just enough.
I watched the snowflakes dance together as they fell against the windshield. I wanted to save each one; set them free so they could be as happy as I was. But as quickly as they landed, they melted into water, only to be cleared from my view by the wipers.
The road straightened out, giving Max the opportunity to rest his hand on my thigh. His warm fingers tickled across my jeans, sending messages to the butterflies convening down real low. I pressed my hand against his; he smiled, and his eyes followed suit.
“This has been the most amazing birthday—thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome. I wanted to make sure I made it memorable for you.”
“Believe me, you and your family did. There is a part of me that feels strange not being home and having my grandparents hovering over me.” I could feel the sadness I’d supressed burst open as I admitted my feelings out loud. Max had kept me so busy and entertained that, when the moments of stagnancy seeped between my thoughts, they were filled with missing my grandma and grandpa. The small traditions they created for me when I was little up to the customs and beliefs they instilled deep within me had all been forgotten today.
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you, not having them around for Christmas.” Max rubbed his hand up my leg. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost my parents. I wouldn’t be as strong as you are, that’s for sure,” he continued. He increased the pressure in his hand as if to t
ell me that he wished he could fix all my pain.
“You find out how strong you really are when someone you love dies. But still, I’m not as strong as you think I am. I’m just pretty good at appearing okay.”
“Well, you always look more than okay to me.” He turned down one of the main roads and my breath ricocheted in my chest. Brilliant, multicolored Christmas lights danced and twinkled in every tree. The reflection of the lights on the swells of glistening snow and damp wooden benches tickled memories from my childhood and reminded me of the Christmas when my grandparents took me ice skating for the first time.
I remembered the chill of the evening biting at my nose and the excitement that perched high in the back of my throat as my grandpa laced up my skates. I remembered all the trees around the rink having huge, clear white bulbs cluttering their branches. I will never forget how I clung to my grandfather’s legs as we skated around the ice; it was magical to watch the lights’ reflections dance against the wet ice. Oh, how protected yet terrified I felt as my grandpa glided back and forth with me between his crouched legs and how rigid my body was as the blades of my skates sped across the ice. My grandpa could skate so fast—or at least I thought.
“Is there ice skating in Aspen?” My voice caught and tears crowd my eyelashes.
“Yeah, Silver Circle on Durant; but it’s an outdoor rink,” Max warned me.
“That’s fine. Let’s go ice skating!”
“Really?” He parked in a metered space on the street.
“Yeah, I haven’t done it in so long, I think it would be fun.”
“You sure? I mean, they are giving out free candy canes and hot chocolate at the clock tower tonight. You sure you wanna pass that up?”
“They probably have hot chocolate at the ice rink.”
“What about the free candy canes? I know how much you love candy canes,” Max teased as he wrenched his hands on the steering wheel.
“Maximillian Goldstein, what’s going on? You aren’t scared, are you?” I grabbed the steering wheel between his hands and pulled up closer to him in the driver’s seat. The windows were already shrouded over by the steam of our conversation.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 36
