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Her coat disappeared into a child’s arms to be deposited on a bed upstairs, and the proffered bottle of wine was whisked away by another kid delegated to arrange the bottles of stuff they couldn’t drink yet. Aunt Ruth’s house was already as noisy as most house parties Leah had been to. Not quite as inebriated, but give it time.
The Great Friedman Latke Fry happened every year on the weekend closest to the start of Chanukah. That Leah’s aunt and mother’s name were no longer Friedman and were instead Rabinovich and Meyer respectively hadn’t changed the name of the event; the pun was too beloved. Aunt Ruth had taken over from their grandmother when Bubbe declared she was too old to stand for that long. Leah had seen the truly monstrous pile of potato shreds that Aunt Ruth and her daughters were busy frying in four different Dutch ovens and a deep fryer simultaneously. She didn’t blame Bubbe one bit.
She’d personally burned enough latkes to be permanently on wine rotation, where she was happy enough to be.
“Auntie Leah, will you play dreidel with us?” Aidan tugged at her sleeve. She had thought her cousin Sarah was being original in not naming her first kid the ubiquitous “David” or “Daniel,” but apparently Aidan had four other Aidans in his kindergarten class alone.
“In a minute, I need to get something to drink first, ok?” She knew her maiden aunt duty was to play whatever horrible board game the kids asked for, since she wasn’t going to help in the kitchen. But she wasn’t going to face dreidel sober.
Her mother intercepted her. “Sweetheart, I didn’t see you come in! Your brother brought his new girlfriend. Can you help make sure your great-grandfather doesn’t say anything to scare her off?”
Since Zayde Moshe’s three favorite topics were when the Dodgers would finally come back to Brooklyn, why Beethoven is inherently superior to Wagner—so many reasons, not just the anti-Semitism—and graphic descriptions of all the horrifying ailments of his elderly friends, this would be a challenge. She’d have to keep him on baseball as much as possible.
“Oh, and don’t forget when you come to Christmas Chinese Dinner, to wear a hat. I saw you coming in with a bare head, you’ll catch your death.”
“Actually,” Leah swallowed. “I’m not coming to Christmas Chinese Dinner.”
“Not coming to Christmas Chinese Dinner?” Her mom turned over her shoulder and yelled across the room. “Joe, your daughter is not coming to Christmas Chinese Dinner!” She turned back. “Why aren’t you coming to Christmas Chinese Dinner?”
“Well, Graham kind of asked me to come up to Greenwich for Christmas...”
Her mom’s eyebrows climbed up into her hairline. “He asked you to come home for Christmas? Joe, the mysterious boyfriend asked her to come home for Christmas!” She turned back to Leah. “You were going to tell us this was serious, when? As you were walking down the aisle, maybe?”
“It’s not that serious, Mom,” Leah said, desperately lowering her voice. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“You bring him home for Passover and I’ll tell you what’s not a big deal.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “Just watch under the tree for little boxes, is all I’m saying.”
“What? No!” Leah glanced around quickly, trying to assess how many relatives were listening in. All of them, most likely. “It was actually his sister who asked me. They have a really small family thing; I think she just wanted company.”
A really small family thing sounded amazing right now. Background music you could hear instead of being drowned out by too many people in too small a space. Elegant glass ornaments instead of faded Hebrew school crafts from fifteen years ago. A table set with crystal and china, instead of people perched on the sofa with greasy plates on their knees. Sure, there were plenty of Jewish families who didn’t use double-thick paper plates for their holiday meals, and plenty of Christians who did, but if she was going to fantasize, why not go all the way? Nice wine. No dreidel.
Although. “I have to go, Mom, I promised I’d play dreidel with Aidan.”
Her mother, hardly fooled, gave her the “we’ll talk about this later, young lady” look, but let her go. Distracting the kids while there was hot oil about was a mitzvah.
Leah swung by the sideboard, but it was already too late. The riesling she’d brought was empty, leaving two untouched bottles of Manischewitz and a magnum of Sutter Home White Zinfandel. Picking the lesser of two evils, she poured a glass of sticky White Zin. Still better than sober dreidel.
It was, she considered as she did her best to sit gracefully on the carpet in a skirt and tights, a game that must have been invented specifically to waste as much time as possible. Oh, she knew the official story, but really, it seemed like a game designed to keep the kids out from underfoot while the latkes were fried. It was worse than Monopoly for stretching out the amount of time you could be losing without ever successfully having lost.
She finally capitulated around the time the latkes came out, having been beaten by a six-year-old but successfully fending off the eight- and ten-year-olds. She also had something slimy that had been deposited in her hair by a roving toddler. It was not her idea of a good time.
But latkes almost made it worth it. She managed to even score a seat on the less squishy couch. She just had to ignore the heated argument across the coffee table about whether the bagels from the bagel shop that had closed two years ago were better than the bagels from the bagel shop that closed ten years before that. The first bite was the best—the edges were all lacy and crispy, against the cold applesauce and sour cream. She’d even managed to grab a glass of the pinot noir some other merciful soul had added to the bottle collection.
“You’re Leah, right?” Her brother’s new girlfriend settled in next to her. He went through them pretty regularly, and Leah hadn’t actually caught this one’s name. Although, come to think of it, this one might have been around for longer than average. She was certainly the first one he’d brought to a full-family event.
Leah nodded, making the universal gesture of “nice to meet you, sorry my mouth is too full of deliciousness to talk.”
The girl smiled. “I’m trying to learn everyone’s names. I guess it’ll help that I’ll see you all again later in the week.”
Leah swallowed her mouthful and raised her eyebrows. “You’re coming to Christmas Chinese Dinner? Seems cruel to drag you out of the city to two Meyer family events in one week. Make sure you get all the girlfriend points.”
Most years, the two events wouldn’t have been so close together. Leah had particularly liked the year Chanukah had fallen across Thanksgiving. Her mom had made sweet potato latkes with cranberry to dip. It had been good enough to stay in the Thanksgiving rotation for a couple of years before her mom had declared one shred-and-fry extravaganza was enough for a year. To have Chanukah so close to Christmas was actually pretty rare.
“We were going to be out, anyway. We’ve been trying to get a sense of the different towns on the train line. I have a feeling Garden City might be it, if we can afford it.”
Leah put down the fork before she could choke. “You guys are looking at houses? Already?”
The other woman blushed. “I’m not supposed to know anything, but I think your brother has big plans for New Year’s, if you know what I mean.”
The cacophony of the room seemed to dim a bit. Leah felt dizzy.
“So I’m trying really hard to get to know everyone. But you’re not coming to the Chinese food thing, right? You’re going to meet your boyfriend’s family?”
“Uh, yeah.” She took another sip of wine. It didn’t really help.
“And where is he again?”
“He’s from Greenwich.”
“Greenwich, Greenwich...oh! My roommate at Young Judea Sleepaway Camp was from Greenwich. What’s his family’s name again?” Her eyes gleamed with anticipation of a rousing game of Jewish Geography.
“He’s...I mean...he’s not Jewish.”
“You’re dating a goy?” She visibly shifted mental gears. “Oh. Oh! He’s taking you home for Christmas? This is so exciting! We can go to Fortunoff’s together to get the rings resized, don’t tell your brother I don’t actually wear a size six. Call me after New Year’s, we’re going to need to coordinate schedules. Unless you want to do a double wedding? So much fun! Do you think we could do the champagne glasses thing instead of walking the circle around the guys, it’s just so unfeminist, you know? What do you think of sage green and blush for the colors?”
“It’s really not—we’re not—it’s all yours. The wedding thing. Have fun, I’m sure it’s going to be lovely. Oh look, cousin Sarah needs help with the boys, nice to meet you bye!”
Sarah was eight months pregnant and had each hand on the head of a small, angry boy. Fortunately, their arms were very short, so Aidan was failing miserably to punch his little brother. But she took one look at Leah’s face and looked around for her husband.
“Mark! Great, you talk to these two, they’re in time out for two minutes each. I’m going for a waddle. Leah, go get our coats.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away from the party,” she started, feeling guilty.
“Are you kidding?” Sarah muttered to her. “Twenty minutes of blessed silence sounds like bliss. The grandparents wanted grandkids so bad, they can watch ‘em.”
The quiet darkness outside was such a relief that they walked half a block before either said something. Up and down the street, Christmas lights sparkled. From classic red bows and white lights to inflatable reindeer, the neighbors made her aunt’s front yard look dark and sad.
“So I hear your boyfriend invited you home for Christmas,” Sarah finally said.
The story just spilled out. She and Sarah had always been close, even though they were five years apart. She was the only one she’d ever confessed the Christmas yearnings to. She was pretty sure her mom knew—the year she’d written a letter to Santa and snuck down the stairs to hang a sock on the radiator had been a clue—but her mom’s look of exasperation had been enough to tell her the Christmas obsession wasn’t acceptable. She told Sarah everything, even the embarrassing bits.
“So he doesn’t know you’re Jewish,” she said finally, in a neutral tone. “How’d that come about?”
“It just...never came up. I mean, you know our side of the family. I haven’t been to shul since my bat mitzvah. We don’t even really celebrate most of the real holidays—Mom just likes Passover because she likes the excuse to have everyone over for dinner, and Dad likes the wine. He didn’t go to church, I didn’t go to shul, it didn’t seem relevant at first.” Leah kicked at a rock lying on the sidewalk. It skittered ahead and then stopped, taunting her.
“The name Leah Meyer didn’t tip him off?”
“I, uh, go by Lee at work.” Sarah gave her a look. “Hey, I’d just graduated, and it sounded so much cooler and more grown-up.”
“And then it started getting weirder the longer you went without telling him any of it,” Sarah filled in.
“Well, yeah.”
“You know, I did the same thing with Mark,” Sarah said. “I didn’t tell him I was bisexual until we’d been dating for almost a year. Or rather, I didn’t tell him at all. So this random girl I’d made out with once freshman year comes up to him at a party and starts trying to compare assessments of my kissing technique...”
“What a bitch!” Leah exclaimed.
“No kidding. Why do you think I only made out with her once? Really hot, though.”
“But he forgave you,” Leah said in a small voice.
“Well, obviously, but it took a ridiculously long time. And I get it—I betrayed him. Not because my secret was something I was ashamed of, or something that really affected him, but because he’d shared everything with me and I didn’t.”
“Maybe I’m not ready to share everything with him.”
Sarah snorted. “Then why are you going to his parents’ house for Christmas?”
“I keep saying it’s not that big a deal! I mean, he didn’t even invite me, his sister did.” She gestured at the house they were passing. The owners had gone all out. The trees were wrapped with lights all the way out to the branches. Every window had a candle. An enormous spray of magnolia leaves with white and gold ribbon crowned the door. “Once, just once, I want to feel like I belong to what everyone else has. To not have the weird also-ran substitute holiday. I’ve been looking through the window all my life, and I finally have a chance to be inside, to be part of the scene.”
“Is it worth it, if it costs you this guy?”
“Maybe?” Leah shrugged angrily. “I mean, I don’t even know if we’ll still be together in a couple of months. Look, I’ll tell him after Christmas. If he’s weird about it, we’ll split. Big deal.”
“Don’t you work together?”
“I mean, it’s the same company, but we’re on totally different projects. If there’s an occasional awkward look at the coffee machine, I can live with that.”
“You know, I’ve never criticized your love life. And you know this guy and if he’s right for you, I don’t,” Sarah said gently. Leah hunched her shoulders, waiting for the coming criticism. “But he’s taking you home to meet his parents, and you’re already planning out how to handle your break up. Maybe you should cut him free before he embarrasses himself in front of his family?”
“It’s not like that—I don’t actually want to break up with him. He’s great. He’s...he’s sweet, and he’s funny and he’s totally reliable and thoughtful. Like, one time he heard through the grapevine I was home sick, I didn’t even tell him, and he showed up at my apartment with soup.”
It wasn’t just that. He saw her. He wasn’t the super demonstrative type; he was the kind of guy who was lurking in the background while others took all the attention. She’d barely noticed him at first. But he was always paying attention. He didn’t make a big deal of it. She’d had boyfriends who had gone out of their way to grill her roommates and then ostentatiously present her with her favorite flowers (Gerbera daisies, mixed colors, no baby’s breath). Which her roommates found charming, but she found a little stalker-y. But Graham paid more attention to her than a checklist of information about her.
She’d had a particularly bad morning scrum soon after they started dating, and had been making coffee a little too aggressively, and the mug had escaped her hand and shattered all over the floor.
He’d just walked in and had silently helped her pick up the pieces and clean up the mess. And then he’d insisted on buying her a real cup of coffee down the street instead of letting her make another mug of Keurig-swill.
He hadn’t said anything about it until they’d left the building. “Bad meeting?”
“I’m not going to cry,” she had told him angrily, her throat closing over her lie.
“I didn’t think you were,” he’d said evenly. “But you look like you maybe needed to rant a little?”
She’d known what would happen—he’d try to fix it for her. Guys never just listened, they always tried to fix. With advice, with instructions, maybe with a good solid punch to the offending other guy’s jaw. She didn’t want him to fix it. “No.” But...she really did need to rant. To someone. “Yes. I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her curls. “Rav, the new guy, he keeps making these little digs about my code in the morning scrum. And last night, he totally went behind my back and reverted half my changes.”
“Damn.” She had waited for him to threaten to talk to Rav. But Graham had just taken another sip, waiting to see if she was finished. When she didn’t say anything else, he had asked, “Have you decided what you want to do?”
“Well, yes,” she’d said, a little surprised. “I’ve got time on the team lead’s calendar after lunch. It just...sucks so much!”
He’d nodded. “That really does suck. Doesn’t sound like you want to talk to the team lead.”
“Not really, but I have to, so I will.” She had waited again for him to jump in and insist on speaking for her. This was why she shouldn’t have dated someone in the office. In her experience, guys would never trust her to handle her own problems. They had to prove how much better they were at problem-solving than she was, never mind that as a developer, her job was literally solving problems.
“Tell you what.” She had braced herself. “I’ll get you one of those cinnamon muffin things you like, and it will be waiting on your desk when you get back. Get through your meeting and not only will you have vanquished Rav, you’ll have a treat to reward yourself with.”
She’d blinked at him. She couldn’t remember a time when a guy had just...backed up her plan, instead of trying to force her to follow his. It had been...refreshing.
Sarah wrinkled her nose at Leah. “So you like him, you just don’t like-like him?”
“No, I totally like-like him!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Why does everyone in this family assume there’s a problem if I don’t buy a house in the suburbs and start popping out babies six months after I meet a guy?”
The stiffness at her side told her she’d hit a nerve. She backpedaled. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I know what you chose was right for you, and I’m glad you’re happy. But that doesn’t mean it’s right for me, does it?”
Sarah sighed and gave Leah a side hug, which was awkward but about all that would fit around her belly. “No, of course not. I don’t know if I could convince your mom or Bubbe that, but I understand. For someone who likes Hallmark movies as much as you do, I’ve never seen someone so allergic to a script.”
“That’s like saying horror movie fans want to be stalked and dismembered,” Leah objected. “Just because I like watching it doesn’t mean I want it for me.”
“I know. But what are you going to do if he wants the Hallmark movie?”
“...flee the house screaming?”
“Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. If I get to say ‘neener-neener, told you so’ you can call me when this whole thing blows up. I’ll come pick you up in the minivan of shame, any time, day or night. And I’ll even set you up with my prenatal yoga instructor. He’s super hot, if you can get over the man-bun, and I know for a fact that he thinks marriage restricts people’s ability to align their chakras.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Leah laughed. “Also, man-bun? Eww.”
“I know, but you should see his butt. It makes up for it. And he’s the kind of guy whose only life-plan involves possibly moving to Belize to sell kombucha on the beach, so he’s perfect for getting over Mr. WASP-inator.”
She didn’t want to get over Graham, though. She just didn’t want to go all Stepford-wife for him.
Sarah turned Leah to face her. “But your life-plan issues aside, you realize this is a bad idea, right? Going to some guy’s family Christmas without telling him that you don’t celebrate Christmas, and that you’re not ready to commit to him? They’re real people, not your personal movie to watch. You’re using him.”
“I’m not using him,” Leah insisted. “I haven’t decided to not commit to him, either. And I may not believe in Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate it. And I intend to celebrate the hell out of this Christmas. I’ll be the best Christmas-celebrater they’ve ever seen. I’ll put post-ghost Scrooge to shame. Besides, I have to go. His mom already bought me pajamas.”
Sarah groaned.
