Someone’s phone starts ringing.
“No phones!” Theo snaps. “No cheating either!”
“Jeez, I wasn’t going to answer it,” Finn says. “And how would I even cheat? I don’t think there are cheat codes for this on Reddit.”
“Who was it?” Jeremy asks over his shoulder.
“No one, just my sister,” Finn answers.
“Oh, you didn’t get to talk to Amanda this morning. We’ve gotta remember to call her back later.” Jeremy’s use of “we” doesn’t escape me. He must have met Amanda on her annual spring break trip, and I feel another twinge of jealousy that Jeremy was there and I wasn’t. I wonder what else have I missed out on in Finn’s life over the past year.
“I think we’re missing two more map pieces that go below these,” Theo mumbles to himself.
Finn’s phone starts ringing again.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Jack-in-the-Box Santa roars. He’s definitely possessed—there, I said it.
“Does anyone see any locks this could fit into?” Priya holds up the key again.
“I found a blacklight flashlight!” Jeremy announces.
“Maybe it will work on the map!” Theo is obsessed with the stupid map.
Jeremy weaves around me and Priya in the center of the too-crowded room and scans the black light over the map. “I don’t think this works on the map,” he tells Theo after a few seconds.
“I bet you can use it on the wall.” Priya hits the light switch and plunges the room into darkness.
“Hey! Turn that back on, I was looking at the map!” Theo protests.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa chimes in.
Finn’s phone starts ringing again.
“Can you get that? Or turn off the ringer? Or something?” I snap at him, forgetting for a second we’re not speaking. I think I might have a panic attack if I’m trapped in this room for one more second.
He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone. “Hey! Can I call you back in—” He stops short and turns toward the corner, plugging his other ear with a finger to hear better.
“Slow down, I can’t understand you,” he says.
After a few more seconds he says, “Wait, what?”
Then he’s banging on the door.
“Let me out of this room right the fuck now,” Finn shouts.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa answers in response.
“Oh, c’mon, Finn, don’t do that. We’ve gotta finish,” Theo says from where he’s hunched over his precious map.
“Brian, don’t let him out,” Priya says into the camera in the corner.
“I’m not joking, Brian. Let me out of here!” Finn yells, banging on the door some more.
Finn takes a step back and turns his face up to the camera. There are tears streaming down his cheeks. Oh, this isn’t about the terrible escape room. This is real.
Jeremy rushes to him and puts an arm around his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Finn opens and closes his mouth like a fish, more tears rushing down his cheeks, but no sound comes out. For the first time since we entered, the room is silent.
When he finds the words, he says them so quietly they’re barely audible: “My dad died.”
seventeen
Hannah
This year, December 25
It’s a steel-gray morning that hints at the possibility of snow. Maybe it will be a white Christmas. Despite my best effort to sleep in, I gave up just after seven and came out to the living room to read in the glow of the Christmas tree’s light.
The tree has gone from spartan to flamboyant as David and I spent the last month one-upping each other with increasingly eccentric ornaments. A David Bowie one from him, Santa riding a unicorn from me. A bust of Ruth Bader Ginsburg from me （the closest thing I could find to a lawyerly decoration）， a glittery pickle from him.
On a normal morning, I’d be checking emails, but my laptop is packed away in my work tote until next year. The time away from my job is a relief, a weeklong détente in my losing battle with Mitch about my podcast pitch. Last week I caved and listened to an episode of Porn Stache, and it was somehow even more repulsive than I imagined. Not because I have a problem with porn, but because it’s a wall-to-wall block of misogyny. Sixty minutes of objectifying women’s bodies interspersed with ad breaks to sell supplements and meal-kit delivery services. If it comes to that, I’ll be job hunting in January. But for now, I push work out of my mind.
My body hums with excitement. I can’t wait to see how Finn reacts to the day we planned for him. I wish life had a 0.5× speed button, the same way my podcast app does, so I could sit in this day and savor it for as long as possible, especially since it might be the final year of our Christmas tradition.
I also can’t wait to give David his gift. I splurged on a gift certificate for dinner at Blue Hill at Stone Barns just outside the city after we saw it on an episode of Chef’s Table, his favorite Netflix series. I still can’t believe I spent that much on a single meal. For the $350-per-person price tag （excluding tip）， we could each have sixty-six Shack Burgers or eighty-eight perfectly greasy square slices of Prince Street Pizza, but I know how happy this experience will make David. Admittedly, I went overboard in hopes that it might smooth over my missing Christmas with his family. I even snuck out to his favorite bakery yesterday afternoon for croissants under the guise of needing to call Finn. At least we can still have a perfect Christmas morning.
I’ve only made it to page five when David emerges from our bedroom, stretching his arms overhead as he autopilots to the coffee maker. “Merry Christmas!” I say from the couch.
“Morning,” he mumbles back. He’s cute when he’s sleepy, like a grumpy toddler. David doesn’t fully become human until after his first cup of coffee.
I read two more pages while he busies himself making coffee. When he finishes, he traces his steps back to the bedroom, mug in hand. I glance over to the coffee machine and notice he only made enough for himself.
Shit. He’s really mad. Last night, we had another not-quite-fight. One that has become all too familiar. “So you’re really not coming tomorrow?” he asked as I got dressed to go to Theo’s.
“I don’t know what else you want me to say.” We’ve had this conversation once a week for the past month and I’ve been perfectly clear: I can’t come to Christmas. Not this year, not Finn’s last. But he’s remained willfully obtuse, asking me again and again like the answer might suddenly be different. “But please come to Theo’s tonight, everyone would love to see you. Or I can stay here and we can order takeout and watch Christmas movies if you’d rather.” Couldn’t he see that I really am trying?
“I’ll just be the odd man out,” he said. He didn’t seem mad, exactly, just resigned.
As excited as I am for today, a small part of me is also looking forward to tomorrow so David and I can put this argument behind us and go back to normal.
Now I follow David into the bedroom, where I find him in the attached bathroom lathering his face with shaving cream. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He doesn’t look at me as he answers. He stays focused on the task at hand, picking up his razor and sweeping it down one cheek.