dad only saw me a few times a year, and he never wanted me for Christmas. He always went skiing. Sometimes he would send me a present, sometimes he would forget altogether, and most years I got a five dollar bill in the mail. Which, let me tell you, five bucks didn’t go very far even twenty years ago, and it’s not like my dad was hurting for cash. But it wasn’t the dollar amount, it was like I said, being an afterthought.”
Christian laced his fingers through hers and squeezed.
“My mother was all into social justice and charity, which was great. I mean, I think it’s awesome that she’s dedicated her life to helping others, but when you’re six and your friends are all getting Barbies, being told your mother donated money in your name to the Red Cross just makes you resentful. She’d lecture me about starvation in Africa and I’d just wonder why it was me who had to give up toys so they could eat when no one else had to. It wasn’t like my mom gave up buying clothes or spending a ton of money on airfare to exotic locales or on her yoga classes.”
“So she didn’t give you presents at all?”
His voice sounded so appalled, Blue instantly felt better.
“Not unless you count hemp mittens as a legit Christmas gift.”
“That’s it? That’s all you got?”
“One year, yeah. Some years I got nada. We didn’t have a Christmas tree either. Environmentally unsound, obviously.”
“That is fucking cracked.”
Christian’s vehemence amused her. “So now you know why I don’t dig Christmas. It was something everyone else had and I envied them at first, then just resented the holiday altogether. For other kids, it was the best day of the year. For me, it was . . . lonely.”
“That sucks. And your parents should be ashamed of themselves. They were both selfish. And your mother has wonderful ideals but she did you wrong. I bet my ass when she was six she wanted a goddamn Barbie too. She expected you to be a mini-adult and that was cruel.”
Hearing someone else say the things Blue had always felt lifted a gigantic weight off her shoulders. She’d always felt like she was the one lacking, like she was horrible and petty to feel the way she had as a kid, when she knew in her heart her feelings were legitimate. And somehow, having spoken them out loud and having them validated by Christian, she felt decidedly less bitter.
“Thanks,” she said softly, turning and giving him a kiss. “I appreciate that.”
“Did you ever get a good gift? Anything at all?”
She didn’t even hesitate on that one. “Yes. Just once. I was eight, and my dad had been to New York for Thanksgiving and he bought me a glass snow globe. He gave it to me for Christmas, and it was even wrapped and everything. And I loved it . . . it was like magic. You shook it and the beautiful little flakes danced around the high rise buildings. They had wreathes on them for Christmas and I imagined that in a big city like that, with all those people, you would walk down the sidewalk in the snow and never feel lonely ever . . .”
The image of the cityscape dissipated in her mind and Blue cleared her throat, wondering what the hell she was doing. She was just going to shut up now.
“Have you been to New York?”
“No.” Because what if she walked down the sidewalk in the snow at Christmastime and still felt lonely? She didn’t want to ruin the magic, the hope.
“You should . . . it would be like embracing Christmas, hope, a different life for yourself than what your parents created.”
Or be crushed. One or the other. It freaked her out that he had used the word hope as well, that he could somehow pinpoint her emotions, that he hadn’t just shut this whole conversation down with an ill-timed joke five minutes ago. She didn’t know how to deal with him, with any of this, so she just said, “You’re quite the philosopher, you know that? Not what I expected.”
“Nah. Just a guy who is content and wants amazing people he knows
Christian laced his fingers through hers and squeezed.
“My mother was all into social justice and charity, which was great. I mean, I think it’s awesome that she’s dedicated her life to helping others, but when you’re six and your friends are all getting Barbies, being told your mother donated money in your name to the Red Cross just makes you resentful. She’d lecture me about starvation in Africa and I’d just wonder why it was me who had to give up toys so they could eat when no one else had to. It wasn’t like my mom gave up buying clothes or spending a ton of money on airfare to exotic locales or on her yoga classes.”
“So she didn’t give you presents at all?”
His voice sounded so appalled, Blue instantly felt better.
“Not unless you count hemp mittens as a legit Christmas gift.”
“That’s it? That’s all you got?”
“One year, yeah. Some years I got nada. We didn’t have a Christmas tree either. Environmentally unsound, obviously.”
“That is fucking cracked.”
Christian’s vehemence amused her. “So now you know why I don’t dig Christmas. It was something everyone else had and I envied them at first, then just resented the holiday altogether. For other kids, it was the best day of the year. For me, it was . . . lonely.”
“That sucks. And your parents should be ashamed of themselves. They were both selfish. And your mother has wonderful ideals but she did you wrong. I bet my ass when she was six she wanted a goddamn Barbie too. She expected you to be a mini-adult and that was cruel.”
Hearing someone else say the things Blue had always felt lifted a gigantic weight off her shoulders. She’d always felt like she was the one lacking, like she was horrible and petty to feel the way she had as a kid, when she knew in her heart her feelings were legitimate. And somehow, having spoken them out loud and having them validated by Christian, she felt decidedly less bitter.
“Thanks,” she said softly, turning and giving him a kiss. “I appreciate that.”
“Did you ever get a good gift? Anything at all?”
She didn’t even hesitate on that one. “Yes. Just once. I was eight, and my dad had been to New York for Thanksgiving and he bought me a glass snow globe. He gave it to me for Christmas, and it was even wrapped and everything. And I loved it . . . it was like magic. You shook it and the beautiful little flakes danced around the high rise buildings. They had wreathes on them for Christmas and I imagined that in a big city like that, with all those people, you would walk down the sidewalk in the snow and never feel lonely ever . . .”
The image of the cityscape dissipated in her mind and Blue cleared her throat, wondering what the hell she was doing. She was just going to shut up now.
“Have you been to New York?”
“No.” Because what if she walked down the sidewalk in the snow at Christmastime and still felt lonely? She didn’t want to ruin the magic, the hope.
“You should . . . it would be like embracing Christmas, hope, a different life for yourself than what your parents created.”
Or be crushed. One or the other. It freaked her out that he had used the word hope as well, that he could somehow pinpoint her emotions, that he hadn’t just shut this whole conversation down with an ill-timed joke five minutes ago. She didn’t know how to deal with him, with any of this, so she just said, “You’re quite the philosopher, you know that? Not what I expected.”
“Nah. Just a guy who is content and wants amazing people he knows
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