Harry:
It made more sense to travel by train from Pennsylvania to New York rather than car. Parking was too expensive in the city, and all the places we wanted to go were a subway ride away. We rode the 2 uptown, the familiar sway of the train car welcoming us home. “This is your stop. I’m the next one,” I told Tiffany as the train began to slow down as it entered the 72nd street station.
Tiffany looked out the window and nodded in agreement, then grabbed her duffle bag and popped up, wrapping her fingers around the subway pole for support as it came to a full stop. “Christmas tree shopping later?” she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
“That’s the plan. I’ll call you after dinner.” The subway doors opened, and she gave me a little wave before hopping out of the car. She was so happy to be home, and I already knew the trip would be exactly what we both needed.
My mother didn’t expect me until Christmas Eve, so I knew she’d be slightly caught off guard when I rang the bell to our brownstone. I had keys, but I didn’t want to frighten her. I knew Billy and dad were at work, so no need to raise any alarms. “Coming!” I heard my mother practically sing on the other side of the door. There were windows on either side of the door and when my mom peeked to see who it was, her face was quickly cloaked in surprise. The door swung open, and she threw her arms around me. “Harry! I can’t believe it! Whatever are you doing home? I didn’t expect you for another week!”
“I know, but I thought maybe it would be nice to come sooner. Is that okay?”
She squeezed me tighter. “Of course it’s okay, come in! Come in! It’s cold out there!”
As soon as the door closed behind me and I stepped into the apartment, I felt warmer. Removing my coat and scarf, I hung them up and followed my mother into the kitchen. She was already taking out bread and cold cuts, eager to feed me. “The house looks nice.” I pointed to dozens of Christmas decorations that covered the apartment. Snowmen, gingerbread houses and at least half a dozen manger scenes could be found in all corners of our home.
“You know how I like to decorate.” She hummed as she laid two slices of bread on a plate, draping thinly sliced cold cuts artistically on top. My mouth started watering. Something about my mom making the sandwich made me know it would taste better. She finished up, added a pickle then poured a glass of soda for me. “Sit, eat,” she demanded, and I obeyed, happy to dive into the sandwich.
After a few bites, she sat down, content that I was in fact eating. “So, how have things been?”
It took me a moment to finish chewing. Typical mom asked me a question when I had a mouthful of salami and provolone. I had no intention of hiding anything from her. We had agreed after my last stay at rehab that we would always be honest with each other. “Jon, my sponsor, he took his life last week.”
My mother clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in fright. I’d be a fool if I ignored the notion that in her eyes, I was capable of the same thing. “No! Didn’t he have a little girl?”
I nodded. “Two.” My mother’s gaze dropped to the table, and she looked heartbroken. “Anyway, it’s been a rough few days. A lot of sadness and I thought it might be nice for us to get away.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I knew my mother had caught them.
“Us?” My mother raised her gaze, her eyes filled with questions.
“Yeah. Me and my friend, Tiffany. She’s from the upper west side, too.”
“Friend?” she asked, and I could tell she was equally planning my wedding while simultaneously concerned I was hooking up with a drug dealer.
“Yes. You’ll meet her. I invited her over for dinner this week. Hope that’s all right.”
My mother’s face softened into a smile as her dark thoughts of me shacking up with the daughter of a crime boss slipped away. “Harry, are you telling me that you have a girlfriend?” She practically squealed the words, and I hated having to disappoint her.
“I have a girl who is a good friend. Let’s try not to overthink this, okay?”
She shrugged and changed the subject to what she had bought my father for Christmas, but I knew in my heart I had planted the seeds of hope for her.
“I like this one.” Tiffany pulled out a three foot thin Balsam Hill tree. You could see straight through to the trunk.
“Tiff, I think if someone sneezed on that thing all the needles would fall off.”
“It needs love. Why can’t I love it? A little bling and it will be beautiful.”
I looked back at the tree. It was pretty naked and exposed, and I doubted there was enough bling in the world to hide it. “Why do I get the feeling you brought home one-eyed stray cats when you were a kid?”
Tiffany waved me off. “I only did that once.”
“Let’s put that in the maybe section. I was thinking something more like this one.” I lifted up the seven foot Fraser Fir. It was lush and beautiful.
“We live in a really small apartment. I think that would take up most of the living room. How about one in between these two? Something not too big but still able to light up a room.”
I scanned the trees, trying to find her requirements until my eyes landed on the one thing able to light up a room. “Found it.” Before Tiffany knew what hit her, I had lifted her up and tossed her over my shoulder. “Do you prefer angels or stars as your topper?”
Tiffany was laughing and pounding her small fists at my back. “Put me down, Harry!”
I obeyed, placing her gently on the ground. It was too easy to flirt with her, and far too fun. I cleared my throat while she fixed her hair, which had gotten slightly disheveled while she was upside down, and walked over to a section of trees we hadn’t looked at yet.
We ended up finding a five foot Blue Spruce that was full but not too wide. Tiffany insisted on helping me carry it down the ten blocks to her apartment, and not only did she not complain, but she laughed and sang carols to the tree so it would know it was going to a good home. It was adorable and I secretly loved that I had this side of her all to myself.
“Mom, we’re back!” Tiffany called as she opened the door to her apartment.
When I stepped inside, I realized Tiffany wasn’t exaggerating when she said it was small. The living room doubled as an office. Off the living room was a kitchen with a small two seater table and a narrow hallway that led to three doors. I assumed two bedrooms and a bathroom. In truth, my apartment in Pennsylvania was larger, but this was far more a home than my apartment. It smelled of lavender and there was a warmth to it, having had a women’s touch. The sofa was ivory with shaggy throws and colorful pillows. The coffee table was actually an old trunk that I’m sure doubled as storage. The exposed brick had been painted white, leaving the apartment with a lighter feel and all around were pictures of Tiffany through the years.
The door to one of the back rooms opened and a woman I assumed was Tiffany’s mom stepped out. She was not what I expected—although I’m not sure what I had envisioned. In her jeans and sweatshirt, she was young looking, early forties at best. Her hair was also blonde, but not nearly as pale, and where Tiffany’s hair hung down her back, her mother’s stopped at the shoulder.
“I can smell the tree already!” Ms. Hart said as she stepped over to us and extended a hand out to me. “You must be Harry. Tiffany has gone on about you all day.”
“Mom!” Tiffany’s voice came out like an unrecognizable animal.
I chewed on my bottom lip to hide my smile and shook Ms. Hart’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hart.”
“Claire is fine. Take off your jacket. I assume you’re staying to help us trim the tree?”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose on your traditions. I’ll help you get it in the stand, then I’ll be off.”
“Nonsense! I was about to order Chinese food. Let me get the menu.” Ms. Hart walked over to the drawer in the tiny kitchen and pulled out a menu.
Tiffany stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “She wants you to stay.” I glanced at Ms. Hart, who was reading the menu intently, then back at Tiff, who was looking up at me hopefully. “I want you to stay, too.”
I unzipped my jacket and took it off.
Two hours later the tree was decorated and twinkling back at us. “Well, I can’t take any credit for that tree!” Claire poured herself another glass of wine and sat back on the sofa. Tiffany dimmed the living room lights and plugged in the tree, the small white lights shining out from the branches like stars. “Beautiful job, guys!”
Tiffany took a step back to admire the view. “Oh, it’s perfect! It really feels like Christmas now! What do you think, Harry?”
I looked at Tiff, how she carefully twisted the ends of her hair that she had swept to the side while admiring how her ornaments caught the light. “Beautiful.” It was the only word I could think of. I turned away from Tiffany and caught Claire studying me over the rim of her wine glass. She knew I wasn’t talking about the tree.