The kid behind the counter hovers by the register with my sandwich on a paper plate waiting for the right time to bring it over. I can’t pretend he didn’t hear every word, it’s pin-drop-silent in here and we weren’t keeping our voices down. I’m as confused as he is about what to do next.
“Now I know,” I say, treading water in our conversation.
My tears threaten to spill over at any second, and I don’t want Theo to see me cry. “You know what?” I forge ahead before he can guess, “I should probably go check on Hannah. I didn’t charge my phone like I said I would, and I don’t want her to worry.” I pop out of my chair, pull my wallet from my front pocket, and throw down all the cash I have—three singles. It’s not enough, but now isn’t the time to worry about fair with Theo. Life isn’t fair. If it was, he’d love me back.
“Finn,” he says, “this doesn’t have to change anything.”
Is he really dumb enough to think that? This changes everything.
As I leg it for the door, the kid holds up the plate with my sandwich and shouts, “Do you want this to go?”
I can’t answer because of course I don’t want it, but if I tell him my voice will wobble and I will not let myself cry until I’m out of Theo’s sight line.
I push through the door and power walk past the front window of the cafe. Theo gets up from his chair and for a second I wonder if he’s about to come after me. Instead, he stands stock-still and stares at me through the window with an anguished look on his face. Like he knows he ruined us.
And he has.
I hustle past, snow flurries sticking to my eyelashes, and the minute I’m out of sight, the tears come.
twenty-five
Hannah
This year, December 26
I’ve always thought the hallway of our apartment building looks like a hotel, not a home. When I get to our door, I pat my pockets for my keys. Nothing.
I wedge my phone between my chin and chest and turn the pockets inside out looking for the keys, and when I don’t find them, a hole in the pocket’s seam. Oh god, what if they’re lodged somewhere in the gown’s many layers of lining? But my search turns up neither keys nor holes. They must have fallen out in the truck or maybe I left them at the hospital with my regular clothes.
The most pessimistic corner of my brain wonders if I’ll need them after tonight. David would keep the apartment if we broke up. I can’t afford my share of rent as it is.
I knock lightly on the apartment door.
What if David isn’t here? What if he got a hotel room or is sleeping off his anger on his brother’s couch? I’m about to head back to the lobby to get the spare from the front desk when David opens the door. He’s wearing his chinos from this morning and an untucked white undershirt. He looks wide awake despite the hour. His hair stands on end like he’s been raking his hands through it over and over.
Instinct takes over and I launch myself at him, wrapping him in a suffocating hug. I cling to him like if I can physically hold on to him, he can’t leave me. Even if he broke up with me, he’d have to carry me around like a barnacle, stuck to him for the rest of his days. I sag with relief when he hugs me back and presses a series of quick kisses into my hairline.
“Where have you been?” he asks. “I was so worried. You called me fifteen times, didn’t leave a message, and then wouldn’t pick up your phone. I thought there had been some kind of emergency.”
“My phone is dead.” I let go of him and hold up my phone to prove the veracity of my statement.
“Are you okay?” His voice is thick with concern.
“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine,” I answer, before remembering that’s not strictly true. “Actually, Priya’s in the hospital—”
“Oh my god! What happened?”
“She fell ice-skating. Broken leg, but she’ll be alright.”
“Is that where you were?”
“I was in Connecticut.”
“Connecticut? Why were you there? I’ve been back since seven thirty. I didn’t see your calls because I fell asleep on the couch.” I suppress the urge to laugh. David was here all this time. He got home before we even left the hospital. Tonight was all a wild goose chase.
“I went to your parents’ house. I needed to see you, in person, to apologize. David, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an idiot. Not just this morning, for months. And you deserve so much better than me, but I love you and I want to love you better, if you’ll let me. I should have been there today. If spending Christmas with your family is important to you, then it’s important to me, too. I should have realized it sooner, but I promise I’ll be there next year.”
“Hannah,” he starts. Then heaves a big sigh. “I don’t want to be second-best. I don’t want spending Christmas with me to be some consolation prize after Finn leaves and you don’t have a better offer.” He doesn’t sound mad, he sounds sad.
“That’s not . . . ,” I begin, before realizing that’s exactly how it sounds.
All at once the fear that our fight has already gone too far hits me square in the chest. I wonder where the uncrossable line in our relationship is, the one that marks a step too far for his forgiveness. Worse, I wonder if I accidentally wandered past it these last few months without even knowing, blind in the haze of my own stubbornness.
With that realization I forget how to breathe. My breath comes out in quick, jagged pants. David gathers me into his chest. He smooths my hair and makes quiet shushing noises. “Breathe,” he tells me. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay, I’m an idiot,” I whine miserably.
He laughs next to my ear.
A laugh is good. People don’t usually laugh during breakups.
I pull away from him and we stand staring at each other in the front hallway. It feels crucial for me to make him understand how serious I am. About him, about us.
“You’re not a consolation prize. Not at all. I realized today that I think I was holding on to Christmas because of Brooke—”
“Brooke? You haven’t spent Christmas with her in years.”
“Exactly. I always thought Brooke abandoned our family. That she bailed as soon as something better came along and put me and our parents in the past. At least, I thought she did. Some new information has come to light there, but I can only handle one apology at a time. The point is, I guess it made me want to not abandon Finn and Theo and Priya and our traditions. I know you don’t get it, but they’re family to me, too.”
He reaches for my hand and weaves our fingers together. He looks down at them as he speaks. “I know they are, and I’m not asking you to give them up. I know how important they are to you. And I love how passionate and loyal you are when it comes to your friends.” He looks at me, his expression open and vulnerable. “I’m just asking you to put me first. Not all the time, but sometimes. It’s not really about Christmas. I don’t care where we spend Christmas. We can spend it in a dive bar or in the desert or on the moon. As long as we’re together.” He squeezes my hand for emphasis, then adds, “Unless we have kids. Then we kind of have to spend Christmas with my family or my mom would flip.”