Page 62 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

Gabe is definitely an adventure.

And, holy shit,is he exciting.

“But if you really believe the kids’ program would be harmed, shouldn’t you stand up for what you believe in and try to make sure you leave it in the best hands possible?” Aunt Lou says.

I shrug and dig into my dinner. “They won’t listen to me. They have no reason to and no need to.”

“You do all these things for other people,” she continues. “You help out here for free with the movie nights and bingo and what have you, whenever you can. You’ve given your life to the theater programs for the last six years. You have all the knowledge and skills and the very best intentions. And those kids mean the world to you. So why wouldn’t you say something?”

This is her technique. She doesn’t say what she thinks I should do. She asks questions that will hopefully lead me to realize for myself that I need to do the thing she thinks I should do.

I slowly finish my mouthful and sigh. “You want me to say because I’m afraid they won’t like me if I tell them they’re wrong, don’t you?”

She gives me herlook. “Are you?”

“Why would I be afraid of what someone thinks of me if I might never see them again?”

“I don’t know. Why would you?”

There she goes with the questions again. “Now you’re psychiatristing me.” I stand up. “I’m getting ketchup.”

“Ketchup? With shepherd’s pie? Why would anyone want ketchup with shepherd’s pie?”

Another question, even when it comes to ketchup.

“Same reason you wanted mustard. Because I really like it, that’s why.”

“Ah-ha,” she says as I sit back down and shake thebottle. “So, when it’s something you really want, youwillstand up for it.”

I tip my head and look from her to the bottle. “This is ketchup. Not the welfare and future of a bunch of kids I adore.”

“Exactly. So why would you be prepared to stand up for ketchup and not them?”

She has been playing me like this for years. But coming on top of what Gabe said the other day about me not standing up for myself, it hits differently this time.

There’s silence for a moment as I squeeze a healthy dollop of ketchup on the side of my plate.

“Do you wish you’d taken your parents’ offer to go to Barbados with them?” Aunt Lou asks.

Mom was given a last-minute virtually-free Christmas vacation by her airline and grabbed it with both hands.

“Of course not,” I say. “I couldn’t abandon the play. And I thought I was going to be watching the Sullivans’ kids too.”

Not to mention, parents who actually like being around their kid wouldn’t have spent half their lives leaving that kid with her aunt.

Anyway, if I’d gone, I wouldn’t be sitting here with all the mental and physical reminders of Gabe being inside me yesterday. So staying here was really a win-win.

“And if you’d gone, you wouldn’t have met Gabe Woods.” Is Aunt Lou a mind reader?

She picks up her glass of sparkling lemon water and raises her eyebrows.

I fight the draw of her gaze and dip some mashed potato in the ketchup.

“Well, I doubt I would have had the ideaof staging the play on ice without him, so I guess it’s a good thing I met him.”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “That’s definitely the best thing about meeting him.”

I would usually tell her to stop teasing me, but this feels like too big of a deal for that. So I stay quiet.

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