Stella’s mom arrives with her new boyfriend. Stella does not look happy to see him.
Her mom’s name is Star. She’s pretty, like Stella. But she has that tired look some people have, and she wears way too much makeup to try to cover it up. “I’ve heard so much about you, Josh! It’s nice to finally meet!”
The boyfriend, Calvin, shakes my hand real hard. Then he gives me his card. He’s a Realtor at the company Stella’s mom is a receptionist at. Star explains that he has convinced her mom to enroll in school to get her own real-estate license. She looks really happy, but Stella looks completely pissed about the whole thing, which seems weird.
Larry cranks up the music, and everyone continues to eat and drink. When all the ornaments are on the tree, Larry turns off the lights and makes everyone sing “Silent Night.” Then he plugs in the lights on the tree, and everyone claps.
When Ben and his parents show up, Stella runs over and they give her a huge group hug. I never realized that his parents were both guys. I figured Jean was a girl. But I guess it’s Gene. Anyway, Gil has the baby in one of those slings that hangs on your chest, and he walks around, rocking, while he talks to everyone, apologizing for being late and missing the tree lighting. With the baby all covered up like that, Gil looks like he’s pregnant. It’s kind of disturbing, given that he has a beard.
Every time he starts to come over to me to introduce himself, I pretend I need something in the kitchen.
Everyone else coos over how cute the baby is, whispering loudly.
“Don’t worry, he can sleep through anything,” Gil says.
“Yeah, except for his internal two a.m. alarm clock,” Gene adds. “The kid is wired for two on the dot. It’s the strangest thing.”
Larry automatically looks over at me. I turn away and bring the almost-full tray I’m carrying back to the kitchen, then sneak off to my room. Clover is cowering on my bed, scared of all the strangers in the house. I pet her to try to calm her down.
There’s a light knock. Stella comes in without waiting for me to answer. She’s wearing one of the Santa hats.
“Hey, you OK?” she asks.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just needed some air.”
She sniffs. “In here?”
“So funny.”
She sits down at the end of my bed. “Great party, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say.
Her eyes dart around the room as she checks out all the Jackie Chan and karate crap. “Nice decorations,” she says, grinning.
“Larry, not me.”
“Really? I never would’ve guessed.” She winks and reaches over to pet the cat. “So, I have to ask,” she says, “because I’ve been wondering about this since the first time we met.”
Clover moves out from under her hand and walks over to me, as if she knows I need her.
“What?” I ask, even though I’m sure I don’t want to know.
“Why do babies freak you out?”
My face gets hot. “They don’t.”
“Right. Every time Gil tried to get near you with the baby, you ran to the kitchen.”
“What? I wasn’t running.”
“Speed walked, then. Whatever. What’s up with that?”
“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“OK,” she says sarcastically. She stares at me. Maybe she thinks if she waits long enough, I’ll tell her the truth.
“Nice hat, by the way,” I tell her.
“You really are a master at changing the subject,” Stella says. Then she gives me that smile that makes me feel a way I don’t want to. Like my insides are on fire. I turn away.
“Wait here. I have something for you.” She comes back a minute later with a tiny gift bag.
Crap. I didn’t think to get her anything.
“It’s not a big deal, so don’t feel bad about not getting me something,” she says, like she can read my mind.
I reach inside and take out a small box. It thuds when I shake it.
“You got me a piece of coal, didn’t you?” I say.
“Just open it.” When our eyes meet again, I feel this crazy sinking feeling in my chest. Good and bad at once. This time, she’s the one who looks away.
I quickly open the box to break the silence. Inside, there’s a rock. It’s speckled orange and polished smooth, like the ones you buy at a museum store or something.
“It’s a rock,” she says.
“Oh. I wasn’t sure.”
She elbows me. “Now who’s funny?”
I pull out the rock and inspect it. “It’s a nice rock,” I say. “Very smooth.”
“It’s a special rock.” She moves closer to me. “My grandmother gave it to me when my mom and I moved here. We used to live with her. Anyway, she said to keep it in my pocket, and whenever I felt scared or lonely, to squeeze it. She had one, too, and she said she’d be able to tell when I squeezed it, and she’d send me strength.”
“But . . . that’s too . . . like, special. I can’t take this.” I try to hand it back.
“No, no. See, my grandmother died. And now I have both rocks. So, you know. I don’t need two. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and obviously you don’t want to talk about it. But . . . we’re friends. Maybe you don’t want to talk to me about whatever it is you’re carrying, but I can still send you some strength when you need it. And . . . maybe you could do the same for me.”
“Wow,” I say. “This is, like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But why me? Why not give this to Britt?”
She shrugs. “He doesn’t need any strength. He has a perfect life.”
“Because he has you?”
She gives me a shove. “No, stupid. He just doesn’t need anything. Not like you and me. He lives in a fancy house. He has an expensive car. His parents are still together. He’s a natural athlete. A great student. You get it. He doesn’t have to worry about stuff the way you and I do.” There’s a little flicker of sadness in her face when she says that. She covers it up fast, but I see it.
“So how come you don’t like your mom’s new boyfriend?” I ask.
She sighs. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He just gives me a bad feeling.”
“How come?”
“You’ve seen how my mom acts around him. She’s totally fallen for him. And now she’s going to spend all this money that we don’t have on going to classes to get her license when, given her past experiences, this relationship will be over in a month and she’ll end up quitting her job and going somewhere else and never becoming a Realtor or whatever and all that money will be wasted.”
Wow. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am.
“What if he doesn’t?” I ask.
“Doesn’t what?”
“Break up with her. What if they stay together?”
“They won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they never do.” She shakes her head. “I will never be like her. I swear.”
I hand her the rock.
“What?”
“I think you need to squeeze this,” I say.
She laughs. “Sorry. I got a little carried away. Ugh. She promised me Christmas was going to be special this year. Just the two of us. But I bet you a million bucks Calvin ends up spending the night.”
“Sorry,” I say.
“Forget it. Let’s just go back out and have some fun.”
I reach for her arm before she gets up. “Hey,” I say. “Thanks for the rock. It’s really nice.”
She shifts a little closer to me, and I automatically move away just the slightest bit.
She sighs. “Would you relax? I’m not going to try to jump your bones.”
“Jump my —” I can’t help it. I start laughing.
She laughs, too, and it feels so good. So good to be sitting here with her, and this amazing gift. This amazing girl. Friend.
“Anyway,” she says when we stop laughing. “When you need, you know, some strength, you can squeeze thi
s, and I’ll know. And I’ll send you some.”
“I seriously can’t believe someone would do something so nice for me,” I say.
“Well, believe it,” she says. “That’s what friends do.”
I close my fingers around the rock again and think about Dave and Caleb back home and what a horrible friend I’ve been to them. I squeeze the rock and promise myself to do better.
“Thanks,” I say. “This is really cool. And — you know, if you need strength, I’ll send you some, too.”
Before I know she’s coming, she’s got her arms around me and gives me a huge squeeze. I have about two seconds to smell her honey-scented hair before she kisses me on the cheek and runs out of the room. But the smell of her perfume is still here.
I take a slow, deep breath before it slips away.
After everyone leaves, I help Larry pick up. He hums carols while we wash dishes and put everything away. When we’re finally done, we stand in front of the tree and admire the lights.
“That was a nice night,” Larry declares. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I love Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I noticed Stella had a present for you. Anything good?”
“Actually, yeah. It was a rock.”
“Like a pet rock?”
“Not exactly.”
I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell him the details. It just seems like something private between Stella and me.
“Hmm,” says Larry. “That’s different. I like that. What did you get for her?”
“Nothing. I’m such an idiot.”
He shakes his head. “We need to work on that.”
“No kidding.”
“Well, I guess we should hit the hay so Santa can come.”
“Seriously?”
“What?” He paws around in the ornament box next to the tree and pulls out two stockings. “Won’t come if we don’t leave ’em out.” He drapes them over the back of the couch. “G’night, Sammy. Merry Christmas.” He walks down the hall, humming “Jingle Bells.”
“G’night,” I say quietly.
In my room, I check my cell. My mom sent a photo of the Christmas tree set up in our living room. Our dog, Rosie, is sitting in front of it with a big red ribbon around her neck and a pair of fake antlers on her head, as if someone in our family actually found a sense of humor.
I read the message: we
Weird.
I check my other messages.
Caleb: merry xmas! y didn’t u come home?
Dave: [Inappropriate joke about Mary and Joseph.]
I flip back to the photo of the tree. Poor Rosie looks so embarrassed with that goofy ribbon around her neck. But looking at her like this makes me realize how much I miss her. Even her foul smell. I leave the photo on my phone propped up on my side table and shut off the lights. The glow-in-the-dark stars come to life, and I imagine they’re Christmas lights.
Next to my phone, I grab Stella’s box and pull out the rock. It slowly warms in my hand as I hold it in my fist. I picture her somewhere in the building above me, holding her own rock. I give it a squeeze. “Hey,” I say in my head. “Merry Christmas.” I hold the box to my face and smell her perfume again. Then I roll over, the rock still in my hand, and fall asleep.
When I wake up, I’m still holding Stella’s rock. I reach for the box and put it back, then wait for the cries to start. They’re quiet at first, then louder. I hear the familiar creaks. And then singing. Just muffled, but I recognize the tune from earlier tonight. Silent night. Holy night. I imagine Gene or Gil up there, holding the baby. Rocking him. Holding him and loving him. Holding him and being his father.
I cross my arms at my chest and hold the emptiness there. I feel it as if it is the heaviest thing in the world. As if it is crushing me. And I can’t breathe. I squeeze tighter, trying to smother the nothing that is slowly suffocating me.
But there’s nothing to hang on to but myself.
Larry flings open my door and spreads his arms out, like, Ta-da! He’s wearing red sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and a Santa hat.
I roll over and check the clock. “Larry, it’s seven thirty in the morning.”
“I know! And also? It’s Christmas!”
I put my pillow over my head. He pulls it off.
“C’mon,” he whines. “Christmas morning! Let’s go see what Santa brought.”
I groan. “You go see and let me know.”
He whips off my sheets in a dramatic tug. The cat goes flying off the bed.
“Oh! Sorry, Clover. I didn’t see you there,” he says. But she’s long gone.
I sit up and rub the gunk out of my eyes.
“On Christmas, mo-or-neen, wake up bright and er-er-lee!” Larry starts to sing.
“I’m up, I’m up,” I moan.
Larry grins. “I already made cocoa!”
Maybe he was an elf in a former life.
He semi-bounces out of the room, and I drag myself after him. In the living room, the tree is all lit up. There are presents. And two stockings laid out on each end of the couch. And one tiny one in the middle with a little cat on it for Clover.
“Wow,” I say.
“Isn’t this great?” Larry comes out of the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa.
“No smoothie?” I ask.
“It’s Christmas!”
“Be right back.” I go to my room to get the small pile of presents I have for Larry and Clover. I put them under the tree, and Larry and I dig into our stockings. Larry makes us take turns pulling one thing out at a time. There’s some pretty crazy stuff in mine, including an Einstein bobblehead.
When Larry takes out gifts from his stocking, he looks genuinely surprised and thrilled about each one. Maybe Arielle gave him a pile of stuff to put in it before she left. Or maybe this year there really was a Santa Claus.
Clover races around the living room with her new catnip mouse while Larry and I finish. I get three chocolate Santas, a candy cane, and a bunch of other gag gifts from the comic store. A lot of them are karate-themed and totally embarrassing. Larry cracks up each time I pull something out, but he refuses to say he bought them. “Santa sure knows you!” he keeps saying.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
When we finish with our stockings, Larry turns up the Christmas classics he’s got playing on his stereo and says it’s time to stop for breakfast. He’s been teaching me how to cook, so I help him whisk eggs for omelets and chop up a bunch of vegetables to go in them. We chow down in the living room, watching the blinking lights on the tree. Clover settles in between us, having wiped herself out from chasing her mouse all morning.
After breakfast, Larry takes our dishes and tells me to stay put when I offer to help wash up. I lean back and close my eyes. Everything about this morning feels right. Like I belong here. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. Like I’m really wanted. But that’s how Larry makes me feel. Like he’s glad I’m here. Not some mistake. Some burden. I know I should probably check my cell and see if my parents called, but right now, I just don’t want to think about them. I just want to enjoy this moment. This day.
And then, as if I summoned it all just by bringing them to mind, the buzzer goes off and Larry races over to press the button. “Perfect timing!” he yells into the little speaker. “Come on up!”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Stay put. You have some surprise guests.”
“What the hell?” I say. Because I know who it is and I am not happy and suddenly my merry Christmas feeling is gone.
“They miss you, Josh. Now try to look like you’re glad to see them. They’re nervous, and you’ll make it worse.”
Shit.
“I thought we agreed this wasn’t part of my journey,” I say, all whiny.
“I agreed you shouldn’t go home. I didn’t agree you shouldn’t see your mom and dad. Now —” Larry puts his fingers to his mouth as if forcing his lips to make a smile, a direction for me to do the same.
“Shit,” I say out loud.
“Don’t say shit on Christmas. It’s not nice.” He walks over to the door and opens it. “Hey, guys!” he calls down to them.
I stand up and feel sick. One-on-one, my parents are fine. I know they love me in their weird way. Growing up, my mom and I spent time volunteering at a soup kitchen once a week. We had breakfast together on weekends while my dad slept off his hangovers. She made sure I had money for food when she worked late. Whatever. She was fine. My dad and I spent our time hanging out in the garage while he worked on his van. Or eating crap food together while we watched crap TV. When I got older, he’d let me have one of his beers and we’d stay up late till he passed out on the couch.
Neither of my parents was ever mean to me. They never hit me. But they weren’t exactly the model parents. And most noticeably, they spent almost zero time together. In fact, they made avoiding each other almost an art. My dad would be snoring on the couch before my mom got home from work, and then he’d be up and off to work the next morning before my mom woke up. This was just how it always was with them. The three of us in a room at the same time was a rare and therefore extremely awkward occurrence. I can only imagine how much more so this will be now.
Larry gives my mom and dad each a huge bear hug as they step into the apartment.
“Surprise!” my mom says, rushing over to me and pulling me close. She smells different. Her hair is down, which it never is, and she’s had it colored or something, because there aren’t any gray streaks in it anymore. And she’s wearing makeup.
“You look fantastic, Sylvia!” Larry says to her.
She beams at me. “It’s so good to see you, honey!”
“Joshy!” My dad gives me a guy half-hug. I notice he doesn’t smell like his usual hangover at all. He steps back from me and looks me up and down. “You grew,” he says.
“He’s bulking up!” Larry says. “I’ve got him at practice five days a week plus weekends! He’ll be a brown belt by year’s end if it kills me.”
Larry leads my parents into the living room. “Sit, sit,” he says.
My mom rushes back over to the door and brings in the shopping bags my dad lugged up the stairs. “Just brought a few things for under the tree,” she says. She pulls out some wrapped packages and arranges them with the other gifts.