Page 37 of The Christmas Keeper

It was the least festive-looking table ever. Mismatched dishes, plastic cereal bowls for the sides, and glasses from the bar. I owned no holly leaf tablecloths or crisp linen napkins like my mother. We folded paper towels and placed my dismal flatware from K-Mart atop them.

“The table could use something.” I sighed as I stared at a large hole where a floral arrangement should sit if this was Mom’s table.

“Hold on.” Kenan darted over to the menorah/tree table, picked up the candelabrum, and set it reverently in the center of the table. “How’s that?”

“Looks good. So, can we light the candles?”

“Hmm, well, some say sure, some say no. My grandfather always refused to allow it to be lit afterward, saying doing so would take away from the holiday lightings. NowIfeel that it would be fine for a small family gathering. It might spur some interfaith discussions.”

“Are you positive? I don’t want to go against your grandfather’s wishes.”

Kenan nodded. “I’m sure. It’s mine to do with as I see fit now.”

“Okay then, we’ll light them. Thank you. For the centerpiece and for being so understanding about my mother. Sometimes she can be so kind and other times…”

He hugged me into his side as we drank in our work. “She’s fine. If she can accept an addict dating her son, I’m sure she can handle me being a Jew.”

“You’re such a good man.” I snuggled in close, inhaling his clean clothes and warm skin.

“Meh,” he replied with some dry humor. “I think I should tell them about Lance.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to bring that up?”

“Yeah, it should be discussed. I don’t want them to find out like you did. I handled that very badly.”

I let my head drop back to his shoulder. “We both handled that poorly. But yeah, you should probably mention it so when they find out, and they will if we keep doing this thing, they won’t feel as if we were trying to hide something from them. My mother was hurt that I didn’t even mention you. Not that I need to tell her every minute detail of my life…”

He slipped his arm around my waist. “For all of her foibles, at least she’s steadfast.”

That she was. I held him close as we shared a quiet moment, both of us lost in thought about family and how important and maddening they could be.

***

As normal, my mother was fifteen minutes early.

“You know this is how people walk into odd situations,” I chastised her while opening the front door.

“And this is why you shouldn’t engage in odd things,” she parried as she stepped inside, giving my cheek a pat, and then shrugged out of her coat.

“Your definition of odd may not be my definition of odd,” I replied while my father, sister, and Antoine piled in out of the cold, snowy boots melting on the old rug just inside my front door. Dad handed me a large bag of wrapped gifts, which I passed to Kenan to place under the rinky-dink fake tree. He hurried to deliver the presents and then jogged back.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Nora teased and gave Kenan a wink as he came over to shake hands and help gather coats. He was so good at being courteous. After all the shit that life, and people, had dumped on him, he somehow moved through his days with a kind of serenity that I envied. “I’ve never seen Mom with boxers on her head before.”

“Well, there was that one time before you kids were conceived that we went to a party thrown by your uncle Milton and—” Dad began.

“And that was too long ago to bore the millennials with. Something smells good.” Mom gave Dad a dark look and made her way into the kitchen, stopping at the small table with the mismatched dishes and the glowing candles. “That is a lovely menorah, Kenan. Do you travel with it, or did you buy it here in town?”

“It was my grandfather’s. One of the few familial things that I have,” he said and then went on to discuss his beloved grandfather while skipping, pretty obviously, over mentioning his parents. Nora and I exchanged looks.

“Well, the holiday sounds like a lovely one. I’ll confess I don’t know much about Hanukkah, but I’m willing to learn. There’s something about oil, yes?” Dad asked.

“Why don’t you sit and chat while I pour some wine?” I enquired with a wave toward the living room sofa. My cabin was small, so there really wasn’t much space to get away from each other, but Nora came with me, on the explanation that she was better at pouring wine than I was. Being a professional barkeep, I should have taken offense, but I just went with it.

Kenan was chatting away as Nora and I removed the chilled wine from the fridge.

“Does Kenan not have a good relationship with his family?” Nora asked in a small whisper as I rummaged in my utensil junk drawer for the corkscrew.

“Not really. I’m not at liberty to discuss it, but he’s pretty much alone in the world now.”

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