CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
December 25, 1989.
The house is surprisingly quiet considering how many kids are in these rooms. Alex, Ra’Shelle’s daughter turned two in August. Tom’s youngest, Tina, will be five in a few months. And then there are his boys: thirteen-year-old Darren and ten-year-old Timothy.
Kari claps when she opens the door. “You made it!”
“And brought presents,” I say, holding a stack of wrapped boxes.
“You didn’t have to do that!”
“What kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t bring gifts?”
Kari places them under the tree. “And what’s that?” she asks Layne, who is holding one of his boxes.
I put my hand on Layne’s shoulder. “Layne could use some help with a project, and I thought the kids could help. You know, for something to do.”
“Oh, I love that idea,” Kari says, gesturing for Layne to follow her into the living room. “Fill me in!”
“Turning my kids into child laborers?” Tom asks, handing me an apron.
“It’s for a good cause.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s okay that I’m here, right?”
He furrows his brow and lowers his voice. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just meant… since Timothy’s a pescatarian now.”
He cocks his head. “That’s why you’ve never had a holiday dinner with us? Because of six years ago? Sam, we could’ve cooked something different if you’d wanted to join us. You should’ve said something.”
Damn, he’s a good guy. I clear my throat. “Well, I’m here now. That’s what counts, right?”
“Absolutely.” He gestures around the kitchen. “Choose a dish. Any dish!”
“She can help me with latkes,” Ra’Shelle says, joining us. “How do you feel about grating potatoes?”
“Oh, I can grate the hell outta some potatoes!”
Wearing a large grin, she hands me an enormous bowl of potatoes and a box grater. “Good luck..”
***
To Layne’s surprise (but not mine) the kids actually enjoy stuffing the envelopes, and after they complete the first thousand, he retrieves the other box from his truck.
“It’s kind of like being Santa for other people,” Tina says.
When we sit down to eat, I sit between Layne and Tom. Kari sits next to Layne and helps Tina with her food. Ra’Shelle is on the other side of Tom, and Alex is wedged between Ra’Shelle and Colin. Timothy is clearly a fan of Colin, and Darren is the devoted big brother who helps Tina.
Ra’Shelle thought it would be chaotic, but compared to Thanksgiving, it’s all peace, love, and joy.
“That’s a pretty ring,” Alex tells me, my sapphires flashing in the light.
“Thank you.”
“Are you getting married?” Tina asks.
“Yes, to Layne. Your mommies are my bridesmaids.”
“What’s a bwidesmaid?” Alex asks, not completely in control of her “r’s” yet.
“A person who eats cake,” Kari whispers to Layne.
“It’s a person who helps the bride shop for her dress and prepare for the wedding. They’re usually people who are very special to the bride.” That seems to satisfy Alex.
“Can we do something in the wedding?” Tina asks.
“Yeah,” Alex says, “I wanna be a bwidesmaid.”
“Well, I haven’t talked to your parents yet,” I say looking between Kari and Ra’Shelle, “but I was thinking you two could be my flower girls.”
“My friend Jessie was a flower girl,” Tina says. Then she looks at Alex. “You spread flowers on the floor.”
“Why?” Alex asks.
“I don’t know,” Tina says. “It’s just what you do before the bride comes out.”
“What about Daddy and Uncle Tom?” Alex asks. “Do they do something in the wedding?”
“I may need to help you carry the flowers,” Colin says, patting Alex’s hand.
“And I’m happy to watch,” Tom says.
“Actually,” I say, turning toward him, “I know our ages aren’t that far apart, but I was hoping that, you know, you’d walk me down the aisle.”
Tom’s eyes shine. “I’d be honored, Sam.”
For the first time in years, he hugs me.
“We need a picture!” Kari says, and she sprints to the living room to retrieve her camera.
“Thank you, Tom. That means a lot.”
“I’m glad you asked.”
Kari returns and takes several pictures. Then she tries to position the camera so that all of us are in the frame. I guess we’ll know in a few weeks how well she did.
“Layne, who’s your best man?” Colin asks, then immediately adds, “That’s not a hint.”
“There’s a coworker who I really want to ask, but I think it’s best if I ask my oldest friend. He’d be pretty mad if someone else took the job.”
“That sounds like a ‘him problem’,” Darren says.
“I’d like to agree,” Layne says, “but sometimes it’s easier to keep the peace by sacrificing a little.”
“Maybe he should sacrifice a little,” Darren says.
Layne chortles. “You’re very wise for thirteen.”
“I know,” Darren says flatly.
***
Ra’Shelle and Colin depart with Alex, Tom puts Tina to bed, and Kari hugs us on our way out the door.
“We should do this every year,” she tells me. “Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Definitely,” Layne says.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” I say.
“You want to come over for New Year's Eve?” she asks. “Tina always tries to stay up.”
“I’m taking Sam to Amsterdam,” Layne says, “but thanks for the invite.”
“Amsterdam?” Kari asks with raised eyebrows.
“The Cold War is over, a new decade is beginning, and anything is possible. I thought we’d start it off with a bang, so to speak.”
“Okay, well, you do that,” Kari says, “and I’ll argue with my teenager about why he’s not old enough to go to an unsupervised party with his friends.”
“Maybe when he’s older, he can join us,” Layne says.
Layne talks about the future a lot now. He makes plans years in advance like everything will be just as good, or even better, than it is right now. He has practically no sense of time or pessimism. It’s refreshing.
“Maybe,” Kari says, giving us one last hug. “Safe travels, you two.”
When we return to the car, Layne says, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
I’m rarely nervous with Layne. I think we’re far beyond a potential breakup talk, but I worry this has something to do with with my family of choice, and my head immediately goes to a dark place. “I’m listening.”
“I attend a gala every February, and I want you to go with me next time.”
Instant relief. I don’t know why I doubted him. “A gala? Really Layne? Do I look like the type of person who attends galas?”
He touches my ring.
“Other than that.”
“It’s for the children’s hospital, Sam. It’s a good cause.”
When I think about the amount people spend on dresses, jewelry, and champagne, the guilt returns. “I’ve never been that person, you know. I’m not materialistic, and my bank account has just enough money, but no more.” I sigh. “Why do you want me to go?”
“Because it’s important to me, and I’ve never taken someone I was dating. Watching people donate that much money helps restore my faith in humanity, and I want you to experience it with me.”
“Damn, I can’t really argue with that.”
“Do you know how to dance?”
I move side-to-side in the passenger seat and sing Marcia Griffiths. “You can’t see it. It’s electric! You gotta feel it. It’s electric!”
Layne roars with laughter.
“Eyes on the road!” I laugh as he grips the steering wheel.
“Try introducing the electric slide at the gala, and let’s see what happens,” he says. “In the meantime, how would you feel about some dance lessons?”
I break into the robot. “That won’t work?”
“I was thinking more like the samba, tango, that sort of thing.”
“I draw the line at tap.”
“Fair enough.”
I take his hand. “Galas and dance lessons… The things I do for you.”
He squeezes my hand. “I know, and when we get home, I’ll show you how much I appreciate your sacrifices.”