“What time are they all coming again,” I ask Alice from the dining room table as she flies through the house. She’s been a little off lately, nervous and on edge. I keep telling her to relax, that this is just like any other family party we host every week. “It’s like…” I look at my watch. “Babe, it’s 8am.”
Alice has her arms full of wrapped gifts she stacks by family unit. I see a six-pack of our favorite hazy beer from Grist House on the coffee table and curse under my breath that her brothers get the good stuff since I never remember to drive out there and buy my own. “I’m just excited,” she says, but her eyes don’t quite seem joyful. After she arranges all the gifts, then rearranges them, she flicks on the stereo and blasts a Christmas mix from the radio. She and Petey start dancing as he crashes his trains into his toy cars. I grit my teeth and curse my brother Ty under my breath.
“Hey, Alice,” I pat the chair next to me. “Come sit with me for a minute?” She shakes her curls over one shoulder and sighs. She bites her lips and walks over. As she plunks onto the seat next to me, I run my fingers through her hair and inhale the citrus-sweet smell of her. I plant a kiss on her cheek and say, “I want to give you your present early.”
She shakes her head. “No way, Tim Stag. What am I going to open tomorrow morning?”
I laugh, but lean over to get the box I have sitting on the floor by the wall. “Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Stag. But I want you to open this before you get too deep into your kitchen operation for today.”
She cocks her eyebrow at me suspiciously and begins to tear open the wrapping paper. Petey runs over, wanting to help, and Alice grins as she lets him. Then she sees the label on the box and squeals, jumping out of her seat and clapping her hands. “Oh! Timmy! Yes!!”
I bought her one of those electric pressure cookers. The woman at the store said they’re very popular right now and even “real” chefs like my Alice would appreciate them. I’m thrilled to see she was right. “Tim! It can do so many things. I wanted one so bad. How did you know?”
I pull Petey up on my lap and he laughs, watching his mother dance around with her kitchen gadget. “I’m going to make yogurt for the kids for tonight,” she says. “Ooh, or should I use it for oatmeal for tomorrow morning? Oh! I wonder if I can pull off both…”
She sets it on the counter and sits on the floor with the instruction manual. I lean back in my seat, watching my wife enjoy herself, feeling like king of the world. I see my phone out of the corner of my eye and notice a text from Nicole. A glance shows me the thumbs up icon, and I chuckle. In the few weeks she’s been at Stag Law, Nicole has written a strategic plan for the next 5 months, 5 years, and 5 decades. She’s got systems for everything and has been talking to me about something called Human Centered Design and how she wants to apply it to our law practice. I pretty much do what she tells me in between sinking my teeth into big clients I suddenly have more time to prepare to meet. I spent this entire month fostering relationships with people I’ve been unable to touch base with for a long time.
Alice shakes me out of my reverie when she squeals. I look over and see a plume of steam escaping from the pressure cooker. “Petey, you must never touch this, ok,” she quips. “Look! I’m manually releasing the pressure from my practice run!” We joke about the page she holds from the manual, sternly advising us to never put our face over the steam release.
“Good thing your sister Amy specializes in burn care,” I say, pecking her on the cheek. “I’m going to walk over and see if your dad needs any help with anything.” Bob recently moved into the third floor apartment Amy and her family had been inhabiting, deciding the big downstairs portion of the house was too big for him alone, and Amy’s three sons needed more space to spread out. I find that I like going over there and talking with him as I help him move his books and heavy things up the flights of stairs. It’s nice having a father figure to bounce ideas off, talk about parenting. Bob would like me to care more about baseball than I actually do, but we’ve got years to figure it out. I love that he’s not going anywhere. That this world I worked so hard to create feels so stable.
“Morning, Tim,” Bob shouts as I round the corner, puffing out my frozen breath in the crisp winter air. “Looks like snow.” He’s salting the walk as a precaution, pointing to the horizon where a set of grey clouds rolls in. I make a note to check on the guest beds at home. If it does snow later, I don’t want Ty and Thatcher driving home with their pregnant wives. No sense putting anyone at risk. Given our family history with car accidents, I know they’ll listen to me and stay put to be safe if I ask them.
“Amy and the kids going to Doug’s parents tomorrow?” I ask, helping Bob load a bunch of presents into a tote bag to carry over to my house. He nods. Both Alice’s brothers moved out, and I know it weighs on Bob a bit that they left the neighborhood, even if they did stay in the city. “You know you’re welcome over to our house tomorrow morning as well as tonight,” I reassure him. Nobody should be all alone on Christmas day. “You can shoot the shit with my father,” I remind him. “Talk about how the neighborhood’s gone downhill since your day.” He grins. He understands that things are complicated with Ted Stag, but I know Bob appreciates that we’re including him in our celebrations. That’s important to all of us, Stags and Petersons alike. Family sticks together.
As we walk home, I wonder if Alice did make yogurt with her pressure cooker, and I smile, planning to spend Christmas Eve drizzling lemon yogurt down my wife’s chest and licking it off of her. I cough, remembering that I’m standing next to her father. When we get inside, the house looks ready for a storybook party, but Alice is standing in the kitchen weeping.
“Pumpkin!” Bob rushes over to her and grabs her hand. “What’s wrong?” Alice quickly wipes her eyes and looks up at me. She smiles, too quickly, and pats her father on the shoulder. “I was just missing Mom for a minute,” she says. I frown as Alice rushes upstairs to change before my family comes crashing in. While I don’t doubt that Alice misses her mother at Christmas time, I can tell something else is going on.
Before I get a chance to follow her and see if she will tell me what’s up, my family arrives and Christmas chaos ensues.