“Fine, let me grab my coat,” I said.
Cam and I walked over to Bar Louie, had a few more beers, and each ordered a burger and fries.
“Have you decided whether you’re going home for the holidays?” I asked him.
He shook his head.
“You’re welcome to come with me to my friend Grace’s house if you stay in town,” I told him.
I’d spent every Christmas since high school at the Reynolds’ house. Sometimes my mother would join us; sometimes not. Ever since law school had started, I’d driven home on Sundays to bring Mom dinner. Some nights we would sit in silence and watch TV for a couple hours; other nights we would eat dinner as soon as I arrived and then she’d ask me to leave so that she could organize her closet. I never quite knew what I was in for when I’d arrive at her house. There were times she made me feel like an unwanted intruder. While other times she presented me with a new sweater and asked me to curl her hair. If she was acting nervous, I’d simply drop off some food and magazines, take a quick turn around the house—snuffing out any cigarettes she’d left burning in various rooms, kiss her on the head, and leave. It was always unpredictable, never easy.
“I’m going to drop a gift off for my mom, and then head over to the Reynolds’ house around noon on Christmas day. It would be great to have you with me,” I said. Cam knew enough about my mom’s situation not to be surprised that I wasn’t spending the day by her side exchanging gifts and decorating gingerbread cookies.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know,” he said.
By the time the dust had settled after finals week, my apartment was strewn with crap. Loose pages of printed cases and statutes. Empty pizza boxes and cans of Red Bull. Piles of laundry and damp bathing suits growing toxic mold. The mess was embarrassing, but I was relieved just to have survived my exams. Christmas day I spent the entire morning cleaning my apartment and clearing my mind. I had known that law school was going to be a challenge, but I hadn’t realized it would nearly kill me. Cam knocked on my door just as I was about to drag the last bag of garbage to the chute.
“When are we leaving?”
I laughed. “You’re coming with me, I take it?”
“I’m with you.”
“Why don’t we drive separately since I have to stop and see my mom first,” I said.
“I’ll come with you.”
I placed the bag of garbage on the floor and ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t know, Cam. She’s always such a mess, and I don’t know how she’d feel about having a stranger in the house. Guests are not a welcome part of her routine.”
“I totally get it,” he said.
“Do you? Because you know it’s nothing personal, right? I mean, bringing you home would be a normal mother’s dream,” I said.
He nodded and put his hand up. “Enough said. Give me the Reynolds’ address and tell me what time to be there and what to bring.”
“Be there at noon, and I’ll text you the address. As for what to bring…I don’t know, wine always works.”
“What are you bringing?”
“A coconut cake from The Fresh Market; it’s my favorite.”
“You’re bringing your favorite cake to someone else’s party?” he asked.
“Your sarcasm and weak attempt to derail me with your even weaker sense of wit is about to get you disinvited and left alone on Christmas—not to mention, no coconut cake.”
“I’ll see you at noon.” He smiled and walked away like he hadn’t a care in the world.
E
very time I put the key in the door of my mom’s house, I did so with trepidation. She’d been sober for over eight years, but even then I never trusted the sturdiness of her wagon. Not for one day. Now, with her new illness, I just prayed that I would find her on her indented couch cushion with a Diet Coke in hand, watching TV—and I released a huge sigh of relief when I did.
“Hi, Mom, Merry Christmas,” I said as I entered the front door, which opened into the living room/TV room/family room/den/study/office, basically the only room in the house that wasn’t a bedroom, kitchen, or a bathroom.
“Hi, honey.”
I placed two grocery bags on the kitchen counter and shouted out to her. “I brought you a vanilla pound cake, and some brie and crackers.”
“Did you get Caffeine-Free Diet Coke?”
“Yes,” I said. Mom had a vicious Diet Coke habit. She’d drink six of them in the morning, and then switch to Caffeine-Free Diet Coke at noon so that she could sleep. Which was really a nonissue considering the number of Ambien she went through.
The house smelled like an ashtray. A huge, full, dirty old ashtray. She’d cut back to a pack a day, but she hadn’t curbed her habit of leaving lit cigarettes all over the place. Rather than carry a
cigarette around with her, she preferred to just have them burning throughout the house to greet her as she entered a room.
“Mom,” I said to the side of her face, which was fixated on the television. “You’re going to burn the house down.”
“I’ll be just fine as long as no one comes in.”
“If you burn the house down, your clothes will burn with it.” I tried jarring her by threatening the one thing she cared about, but we’d had that exchange many times before and nothing ever changed. “I brought you something.”
She turned to me. “How kind of you.”
She unwrapped the box, inside of which was a Northwestern Law sweatshirt. “Thank you. I’m very proud of you,” she said.
Her words were her gift to me. Despite my mother’s mood swings and illnesses, I knew she loved me and that there was nothing else she wanted more than for me to be successful.
“Thanks, Mom, I love you,” I said and hugged her while she lifted the remote and changed the channel. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me at the Reynolds’ house today?”
“I’m more comfortable here.”
“Do you want me to curl your hair for the holiday?” I asked.
“Not today. I’m going to dress later this afternoon,” she said, eyes fixated on the TV. “They’re playing
A Christmas Story
at two o’clock,” she said.
I smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m heading over to Grace’s house, okay? So I’ll see you in a week or so. Love you.”
“Okay.”
“Please be careful with your cigarettes,” I said and walked out the door. I’d given up long ago trying to understand her and attempting to talk her into things she didn’t want to do. But every Sunday, and especially on Christmas, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit sad walking out that door.
I left my mom and headed for the only place that had ever felt like home to me. I was a few minutes late and entered through the garage door into the kitchen to find Cam and Sydney, Grace’s mom, standing over the stove tasting bits of the enormous ham she was cooking. Upon my graduation from college, Grace’s mom had insisted I call her by her first name, which felt insubordinate and wrong, but I’d acquiesced. Cam already had his sleeves rolled up, with a glass of wine in one hand. He greeted me by tapping his watch and mouthing,
what the fuck?
I gave him the evil eye, and then a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late,” I said and embraced Sydney. “Merry Christmas, I see you’ve met my friend Cam?”
“I have,” she smiled and looked at him for a second. “In fact, he brought your favorite coconut cake.”
“He did not!” I screamed. “Why you little piece of—”
Cam interrupted me with a hug and cracked himself up. “I couldn’t resist,” he snickered into my ear.
My eyes were wide with mock fury, but I couldn’t suppress my laughter. “Well, now you have two,” I said to Sydney, handing her a large brown bag from The Fresh Market as soon as I’d composed myself.
Just then, Grace walked in with her boyfriend, Jack. Sydney and I were waiting for Grace to reciprocate our greetings, but her eyes were doing a body scan of Cam instead. Finally, she looked away and winked at me.
“Grace, this is Cam. Cam, this is Grace,” I said, going through the formalities.
“It’s so great to finally meet you,” Grace said and walked over to embrace him. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Well, it’s all a pack of lies. I’m not nearly the nerd Chloe makes me out to be.”
“Yes, you are,” I mumbled.
Cam shook Jack’s hand, and then pointed at me and whispered to him loud enough for everyone to hear. “She thinks I’m cute.”
I shook my head, filled a basket with rolls, and helped Sydney with some last-minute preparations as a few other guests arrived. Cam took a seat at the kitchen island while Grace and Jack went to greet the rest of her relatives in the den.
“So Cam,” Sydney began. “Where are you from?”
“Florida.”
“And you’re going to be a lawyer like Chloe one day?”
Cam grabbed a handful of shelled pistachios from a three-sectioned serving dish in front of him that also held pecans and cashews. “We’ll see. I want to have the law degree for when I start my own business, but I likely won’t practice. I’m planning on getting my MBA as well. A friend from Duke and I are working on building a new POS software to streamline the checkout process for major retailers. He’s the tech guy, and I’m everything else.”
Sydney looked at me, and I shrugged. “Nerd.” I nodded.
Just then a pistachio flew through the air and hit me between the eyes.
Once both sets of Grace’s grandparents had arrived, we were all seated. Between the Reynolds’ dining room table and an additional card table, there was room for everyone. The buffet was adorned with gourds and colored platters brimming with honey-baked ham, creamed spinach, broccoli casserole, mashed potatoes, Swedish meatballs, and Pillsbury crescent rolls. Next to that was a smaller dessert buffet with Sydney’s mother’s famous reindeer cookies, a chocolate Yule log, and two coconut cakes. It was a happy time, and I was content to be surrounded by people who loved me and made me laugh. I was seated next to Cam and admired the way he charmed the table with stories about trips to exotic locations and
tales of getting arrested for leading environmental protests. We all hung on every word.
After dinner, the women cleaned up while the men went into the den and watched football. The old-fashioned predictability of it all brought me so much comfort.
Grace and I were wiping down the counters when she finally asked me about Cam. “He’s adorable,” she whispered. “Have you never mentioned what he looked like or have I not been paying attention?”
Grace had moved to her own apartment in downtown Chicago after graduating from Purdue University and was living in the Bucktown neighborhood, where she was teaching preschool.
“You’ve been busy wiping butts and making crafts,” I said.
She threw a dish towel at me. “Don’t be snide, you know I wipe noses too.”
“I’m kidding, I actually envy you. I miss the days when little people looked up to me and believed that I held the answer to every random question in their spongelike brains. I bought a couple of gifts for Sammy and Sarah that I’m going to run over to their house later tonight.”
“They’ll be so excited to see you. Is Tyler home for break?”
“No. I stalked his Facebook page, and it looks like the team has to stay together in Indiana since they’re in the Rose Bowl next week.”
“My dad said there was an article about him in the
Tribune
last weekend,” she told me. “Have you heard from him?”
I shook my head. Notre Dame hadn’t played in—or been eligible for—the Rose Bowl since 1925. Tyler’s name had been all over the local press.
Grace went about rinsing wineglasses in the sink while I dried large ceramic platters. “Why don’t you send him a text and wish him good luck in the game?” she suggested.
“I could, I mean, I’m capable of it—but why bother?”
“Or better yet, forget him altogether and hook up with Cam.” She clapped. “He’s
really
cute, Chloe.”
He was reasonably good-looking, if you liked that slim, hairless Abercrombie & Fitch thing. But my relationship with Cam was so much more important to me than that. He was the calming force that I’d needed so badly in my life. To complicate things by sleeping with him would mean losing what we had, and that was way too precious to me. What if it didn’t end well? What if I repulsed him? And let’s be honest, I was nowhere near over Tyler, and to finally admit that defeat was depressing.
“We spend so much time together, I would hate to compromise what we have. Cam’s pretty much the only reason I’ve been able to survive this first semester,” I said.
She came closer to me and, keeping her voice low, said, “Well, it hasn’t gone unnoticed by my mom and me that he has a thing for you.”
“A thing? Really, Grace. What, a hard-on?”
She laughed. “For someone you spend so much time with, he sure does stare at you a lot.”
We finished the dishes and hit the dessert buffet. It was a tradition in the Reynolds’ home that dessert always be served on paper plates so that Grace’s mom could enjoy her holiday sugar fix without another round of dirty dishes. At about five o’clock Cam and I expressed our profuse gratitude and left. It was snowing when we walked outside to our respective cars.
“Domino’s pizza back at my place in an hour?” he offered.
“I’m stuffed,” I said, pulling my faux-fur-trimmed hood over my head.
“You’ll be hungry in an hour, that’s how it works. Your body…”
I leaned in and silenced him with a kiss on his cold cheek. “I have some gifts to drop off for these two kids I used to sit for, and I might be a while, but I’ll knock on your door when I get back.”
“Do you want to drag me along to that house too?”
I shook my head and zipped up the remaining inch of my coat. “This one I need to do by myself.”
A
s I drove over to the Reeds’ house, I was apprehensive and flooded with memories of Tyler. I knew that walking into his home was going to dredge up all the emotions I’d been trying so hard to suppress. But I was eager to see the kids and grateful to have had a day with good friends. When I’d called Mrs. Reed the week before, she’d said to come by anytime after four o’clock. I pulled in through the open iron gates at the entrance of their driveway and parked behind three other cars about halfway up the circular drive. My car hadn’t had time to warm up, so I was shivering as I grabbed the gifts from my backseat and ran across the wet, crunchy gravel to the front door. I rang the bell, and then bounced on my toes, breathing down the front of my coat while I waited.