Chapter 22 A Christmas Surprise

By the time Gabe had dragged the tree up to his parents' apartment, it was starting to feel a little more like Christmas. They borrowed his father's car and drove to a small lot selling off the last few Christmas trees before closing up. The trees still at the lot were drying out after sitting out for so long waiting to be chosen. Some were missing branches in a few places, a few were crooked, but all smelled of winter spice. Leah and Gabe zigzagged through the lot until they found the straightest, fullest tree left that would fit in the apartment. Gabe tied it to the car roof expertly and they drove back while Leah asked about Gabe's Christmas traditions.

Sure, they used to have a big tree in their old house; they hung stockings; but once Gabe left for college it seemed that traditions disappeared year by year. One year they stopped leaving out cookies for Santa, the next, no more opening presents in pajamas. The previous year they'd only had a small electric tree, and Gabe didn't even know if his parents had kept it. "But don't worry," he explained. Christmas dinner would be at his older brother's home and they had the Christmas spirit. They had no choice since they had three children who still believed in its magic.

Sam had managed to find an old box with decorations while Nancy finished airing out the studio, giving the four of them an activity to keep them all busy when they got to know each other. Leah hung ornaments as she answered an unending number of questions about her job (Was she still sure she didn't have an MBA?) and even a few about her personal life, which was apparently much less interesting.

When the tree and the questioning were finished, Gabe showed her the bathroom to shower before they'd go to his brother's home for Christmas dinner. Leah put on her new Christmas dress (the same one she wore to Diamond Media's holiday party. How many new Christmas dresses did a nice Jewish girl with an entry-level salary need?) and unpacked the gifts she had purchased. She quietly placed them under the tree and waited while everyone else got ready to go. Her eyes were drawn to the artwork around the house. It was all naked people. Fat naked people. Skinny ones. Hairy ones, muscular ones. Leah wondered how long Nancy had been painting, but she knew she would never have the courage to ask Nancy about her outlandish hobby.

Gabe's brother's house looked like Christmas. Lights lined the storm drains and snowmen smiled from the driveway and Leah felt her excitement rise as the real holiday was about to begin. They were invited inside with offers of brandy or eggnog, or brandy with eggnog, and Gabe accepted the latter for both of them. Leah introduced herself and tried to get the names of Gabe's brother and his wife, but it was impossible to hear over the screams of their three children who had had too many chocolate Santas and were excited to see their uncle Gabe and grandparents.

Leah drank her eggnog and brandy, which was starting to grow on her, and was offered another while the dinner table was set and a turkey was carved. She drank quietly, smiled, and listened, while feeling slightly terrified of the wild children who apparently thought Gabe was a jungle gym to be climbed. When ushered to the table, she followed and watched Gabe's brother carve a turkey and serve what Leah believed to be seven different types of fish. There were several types of pasta (no Italian meal was complete without it), and plates of cured meats and crostinis and bread scattered around the table. The volume rose as everyone ate and Gabe politely served Leah a little of everything, including each of the seven fishes, including one shellfish. Leah pushed it around her plate a few times, but in the end decided this shellfish would stay on her plate, rather than enter her mouth.

After dinner, plates were cleared—the clanking only added another level to the noise—and dessert was served. Cheesecakes, fruitcakes, and other colorful cakes that looked a little less inviting. By this time, the roaring noise had calmed down. The children had snuggled on the couch, insisting they weren't tired, yet their eyes were closing in front of the television. Gabe's brother made coffee and the adults savored the silence.

"Is this anything like Christmas at your home?" Gabe's sister-in-law (Leah thought her name was Sally or Cindy or something like that) asked. "It's so loud with the kids."

It was the first time that evening someone had addressed Leah (other than Gabe who had asked her several times if she had wanted more of the lobster pasta, despite the fact that she hadn't wanted any of it in the first place. Leah felt herself heating up like the coffee passing through the filter in the next room. She was in the spotlight, how could she answer without making a big deal about not growing up celebrating Christmas?

"We didn't celebrate Christmas," she replied meekly, waiting for the onslaught of questions like the one she survived earlier about work. "I'm Jewish."

Sally or Cindy nodded and then offered everyone another slice of cake to go with their upcoming coffee. Her being Jewish was apparently as uninteresting or unimportant as if she had mentioned she had owned a pair of black shoes .

When everyone had eaten too much cake and drank just enough coffee to overtake the earlier served brandy, Gabe's parents motioned it was time to go and they piled back in the car back to the apartment. Gabe and Leah brushed their teeth and snuggled into the foldaway bed in the studio/guestroom/storage room/office, which still slightly smelled of aerosol even though the windows had been open, freezing the air so that it was almost as solid as snow.

"Did you enjoy your first Christmas?" Gabe asked as she tucked herself under his arm.

"It was nice. The kids are cute."

"The kids are loud." The tone conveyed that Gabe wasn't their biggest fan. "Four hours is way too long to be around them."

"You don't like kids?" Leah asked. She loved kids. She'd been babysitting since 14 and had she hadn't been afraid of being trampled, she would have tried to play with Gabe's nieces and nephews.

"No."

"But you played with them so nice."

"Did I have a choice? They would have stampeded me otherwise." There was no trace of affection in Gabe's voice.

"But don't you want kids of your own?" Despite having dated for several months now, they had never had any serious discussions about the future. Marriage, kids, all the things that Leah fantasized about and assumed that everyone wanted as much as she did.

"No way," he smirked. "Kids ruin people's lives. Look at my brother. You wouldn't believe it, but he was a competitive cyclist. He also had his own software company. But once kids came, the bike went away and he had to sell his company. Sally said he needed a stable income once they had children. Now, all he talks about is junior swim meets and PTA meetings. He used to be interesting. He used to be fun to talk to. Now he's just…he's a dad. And look at my parents; trying to find hobbies to fill their time because they wasted their best years caring for kids who don't even appreciate it."

"You appreciate it, don't you?"

Gabe shrugged. "I want to live for me. I want to pursue my dreams. Not be disappointed in my kids."

"You think your parents are disappointed in you?"

Gabe sighed or snored. Leah wasn't sure, but she knew the conversation was over. She lay in the creaking bed, afraid to move and make a noise, but also afraid to stay still after learning that Gabe didn't want the same thing she did. A family. Kids who grew up and had bar and bat mitzvahs. But who was she kidding? Even if Gabe did want kids, how would they raise them? With Christmas trees decorated with blue and white lights? Bar mitzvahs and baptisms? These thoughts were too heavy after Christmas, and she hoped that by morning, she'd somehow settle them within herself.