We sipped the hot chocolate as my face slowly returned to its normal color. Through it all, we continued to chat about regular teenage things—favorite movies and television shows, music, what kind of pizza we liked （thin crust with double cheese for me, sausage and pepperoni for him）， and anything else that came to mind. Robert and Richard clambered back into the van just as Bryce’s dad was starting the engine and the ferry was about to dock.
We drove along dark and quiet roads, past farmhouses and mobile homes decked out in Christmas lights. One small town gave way to the next. I could feel Bryce’s leg pressed against my own, and when he laughed at something one of the twins had said, I thought about the easy way he seemed to relate to his family. His mom, probably thinking that I might be feeling left out, asked the kinds of questions that parents always asked, and even though I was happy to answer in a general way, I still wondered how much Bryce had told them about me beforehand.
When we reached New Bern, I was taken with how quaint it was. Historic homes fronted the river, the downtown area was lined with small shops, and lampposts at every intersection were decorated with illuminated wreaths. The sidewalks were crowded with people making their way to Union Point Park, and after parking, we fell in alongside them.
By then, the temperature was even colder, my breath coming out in little puffs. At the park, more hot chocolate was proffered, along with peanut butter cookies. It wasn’t until I took the first bite that I realized how hungry I was. Bryce’s mom, seeming to read my mind, handed me another as soon as I finished the first, but when the twins asked for seconds, she told them they’d have to wait until after dinner. The conspiratorial wink she gave me immediately made me feel like I belonged.
While I was still nibbling, the flotilla began. Broadcasting live from beneath a tent, the local radio station announced via loudspeaker the owner and type of each boat as one by one they slowly floated past. For some reason I guess I was expecting yachts, but aside from a handful of sailboats, they were either similar in size or smaller than the fishing boats I saw in the docks at Ocracoke. Some were festooned with lights; some sported characters like Winnie the Pooh or the Grinch, and still others had simply placed decorated trees along the decking. The whole affair had a sort of Mayberry vibe to it, and though I thought it might arouse a feeling of homesickness, it didn’t. Instead, I found myself focusing on how close Bryce was standing next to me, and watching his dad point and grin with the twins. His mom merely sipped the hot chocolate, her expression content. A short while later, when Bryce’s dad leaned over and tenderly kissed his wife, I found myself trying to remember the last time I’d seen my father kiss my mother in the same way.
Afterward, we had dinner at the Chelsea, a restaurant not far from the park. We weren’t the only ones who headed over there after the flotilla ended; the place was bustling. Nonetheless, the service was quick and the food satisfying. At the table, I found myself mainly listening while Richard and Robert debated their mom and dad on heady scientific topics. Bryce sat back, remaining as quiet as I was.
When dinner was over, we returned to the van and drove to what seemed like the middle of nowhere, eventually parking alongside the highway with our hazard lights flashing. Climbing out, I could only stare in wonder as I tried to take it all in.
While houses decked out in Christmas lights were common in Seattle and the malls were decorated professionally, this was on an entirely different scale, with the holiday display spread over at least three acres. Off to my left sat a small house at the edge of the property with lights framing the windows and lining the roof; a Santa and sleigh perched near the chimney. But it was the remainder of the grounds that amazed me. Even from the highway, I could see scores of illuminated Christmas trees, a giant American flag glowing high in the treetops, tall teepee-like cones assembled only with lights, a “frozen” pond with a clear plastic surface lit from below by tiny brilliant bulbs, a decorated train, and synchronized lights making it appear as if reindeer were flying through the sky. In the middle of the property, a miniature glowing Ferris wheel rotated slowly, stuffed animals seated in the cars. Here and there, I could make out comic and cartoon characters painted on plywood, cut to exacting standards.
The twins ran off in one direction while Bryce’s parents moved slowly in another, leaving Bryce and me alone. Winding among the decorations, I felt my gaze drifting here and there. Dew was moistening the toes of my shoes and I pushed my hands deeper in my pockets. All around us, families wandered the property, children racing from one display to the next.