The One That Got Away by Carol Rosenfeld

rituals.
    â€œYou’re coming to my fête, aren’t you B.D.?” he asked. “I’m starting with brunch again, served on the Spode Christmas Tree china, followed by Miracle on 34th Street . From 1:30 to 5 we’ll trim the tree, and then we can watch It’s a Wonderful Life . Dinner will be at 7.”
    â€œServed on the Wedgwood or the Royal Doulton?”
    â€œI haven’t decided. I know traditionally I’ve used my grandmother’s Royal Doulton, and this dinner party is steeped in tradition, but I just got the Wedgwood and I’d like to show it off. And of course, we’ll walk off all those calories with some caroling, then return for White Christmas and wassail.”
    â€œOh, Eduardo,” I said. “It will be all men, and I feel like I’ve reached a point in my evolution as a lesbian where gay men aren’t going to be much help.”
    â€œYou mean you’re not going to meet someone at my fête who will go to bed with you,” Eduardo said. “You’re right about that, but you’re also wrong because what you need to be doing right now is finding your family. We can’t choose the family we spend the first part ofour lives with, but we can create the family that we want to live our lives with. You know, B.D., I wanted Kris Kringle to be my father. I wanted to be an orphan like the little Dutch girl, sitting on Papa Noel’s lap, while he sang to me in my native language. My father knew, B.D.; he knew very early on. I would try on my sister’s hats or reach for one of her dolls and my father would say, ‘Maricón,’ and turn away. I was defective, an embarrassment, something to be ignored. You’ve become a member of my family, bebé, and it’s important to me that you be part of my Christmas celebration.”
    â€œThen of course I’ll be there, Eduardo,” I said. “Though I may get a little depressed around the mistletoe.”
    â€œStay near the cookie tray.”
    I perked up. “Is André coming?” André the baker had a pastry shop around the corner from our office. At last year’s party he had brought an enormous tray of delicious, exquisitely decorated butter cookies.
    â€œYes, André told me he’ll be there. B.D., go outside and let me know how our tree looks from the sidewalk.”
    I stood in front of the window, shivering, and nodded my head. Eduardo drew his eyebrows together, then arched them and smiled. There was a man standing next to me. He’d stopped to look at the tree. He had gray hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and sapphire blue eyes. He was tall enough and wide enough for me to hide behind if I wanted to.
    The man laughed and I saw that Eduardo was using a ball ornament as a mirror and smoothing his hair into place. Eduardo heard the laughter, looked up, and winked. The stranger considered the tree, then pointed to the top right.
    Eduardo indicated a bare branch with his finger and mouthed, Here?
    The stranger nodded. Eduardo smiled, held up onefinger, disappeared, and returned carrying an ornament, a silver bear in a Santa suit. He carefully hung it from the bare branch and looked out, searching for approval. The stranger gave him two thumbs-up.
    Eduardo held up one finger again. A minute later he was opening the door. “Would you like to see the tree from another perspective?” he asked.
    There was a moment of silence, then the stranger said, “Sure, why not?”
    Eduardo escorted the visitor into the front room. “My name is Eduardo, and this is B.D.”
    â€œI’m Jim. That’s a beautiful tree,” Jim said, looking directly at Eduardo.
    â€œIt’s so cold out,” Eduardo said. “May I offer you something hot to drink, Jim?” The word hot seemed to reverberate throughout the room.
    â€œI think I’ll take you up on that,” Jim said.
    â€œWill coffee do? I was brewing a fresh pot while we