Christmas Chocolat

“I don’t know, I’m a bit nervous,” I said. We were getting dressed for Thanksgiving at David’s. Laurent had taken the day off.

“I don’t understand you. These are your friends.” He was trying to decide between a black shirt with light gray stripes and a midnight blue one. He looked at me. I nodded toward the blue.

“Yeah, I know. Probably hormones.” I discarded a pair of black Gaultier jeans that were suddenly a bit snug around the waist while Laurent gave me a puzzled look. “My good jeans are too small,” I told him with a smile.

“Ah, you are going to grow fat and lazy like a cat in the sun.”

“Don’t even think it,” I said with a shudder. “I intend to be one of those women who don’t look pregnant from the back.” I put the jeans back on the hanger.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice. It’s genetic. Look at tiny Shoshanna.” He buttoned his shirt.

“She says swelling up like a balloon is the worst part.” I stood in front of my open closet.

“Ma Jackie,” he said, putting his arms around me, “you are the most beautiful pregnant woman there ever was or ever will be.”

“So I’m ugly when I’m not pregnant?”

“You are impossible always.”

“You say whatever you like, but I bet you don’t come near me if I get huge. You’ll just look at me with revulsion like the monster from the planet of the blimps.”

“Is that really all you think of me?”

I found a pair of tan pants that had a bit of stretch in them. “No. It’s what I think of me.” I pulled them on. My father had always criticized women who let themselves go. For him, the F-word was fat.

“Not me. I love you. All of you. For better for worse, remember?” He sat on the bed to tie his shoes.

“They should add ‘for thinner for fatter’ to wedding vows. I’ve known more than one marriage that split up because of body issues.”

“Not a good marriage to begin with,” he said. He turned to the mirror and splashed on some Eau de Vetiver.

I pulled my boots on over my pants, added a chocolate brown sweater and Maman’s Hermès scarf.

“You look beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Good. No more nausea. Do you think it’s a bad sign?”

“Stop worrying. We’ll have all the details tomorrow. You know, it’s relaxing to celebrate Thanksgiving at David’s rather than the big dinner at your Aunt Charlotte’s house.”

We smiled at each other. What we left unsaid was that it was nice not to have to deal with Daddy for once. Not that he wasn’t always gracious. But I always felt as if I were auditioning for a part when he was there. But the gift of a Daddy-free Thanksgiving came with a price. Sacrificing Christmas. “I really need to get those tickets.”

“It’s done,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to get on the same flight as Elise and then she’d have to travel alone.”

Anger flared briefly, then died. “You are a wonderful man.” I kissed him.

We headed downstairs.

“Oh yes, before I forget, this came for you.” He picked up a letter from the Louis Philippe bureau and handed it to me. It had a US stamp.

“It’s from my father,” I said, and slit open the envelope. “I wonder. . . Oh! It’s a photograph. Look at this.” I showed it to Laurent. It was a picture of me as a baby. I was smiling and looking at the photographer. Beside me were my parents, gazing at me as if I were a queen. I read the note.

Dear Jacqueline,

I thought you might like to have this. It was taken the summer you were five months old.

I miss you and am looking forward to seeing you at Christmas.

“I remember this picture. It was hanging on the wall of the staircase, along with similar poses of my sisters and brother. After Maman died, they all vanished,” I said, running a finger over my mother’s hair. “I wonder why he’s sending this now?” I pressed the photograph to my heart.

“Maybe he’s mellowing with age, like a fine cognac.” Laurent grinned.

“He’s a fine cognac, all right.” I stared at the photograph again. “They were such a gorgeous couple.” I sighed. If only I could conjure up that time, just for a day, and observe them. See that light in my father’s eyes.

Laurent nodded. “And you were a beautiful baby. And clearly very loved.”

“Do we have a frame?” I looked up. He shook his head. “I’ll buy one tomorrow.” I went to the piano and propped up the photograph on the music stand.

When we got to David’s place it smelled like a Virginia farmhouse in autumn. I lived in a vibrant, culturally dynamic city that was my home while maintaining a link to the place where I grew up. I really had the best of both worlds.