Chapter 15
I’d texted my mother to inform her I might be featured on the local news and that was a big mistake because now, after pulling up the link online, she was peppering me with questions about my “wife.”
“When did you get married?” Her voice was high pitched.
“I didn’t.”
“The handsome fella with the teeth said you two were married.” I could imagine her in her favorite chair with her reading glasses resting on top of her head.
“He was mistaken.” I grabbed a cookie from my decorating date with Belen and took a bite.
“Well, who was that woman, Kristoff?”
“Belen, she works at the mall as the event coordinator, that whole Christmas scene was created and brought to life by her.” I was bragging about Belen like a proud parent at a school recital.
“Are you two an item, because you were eyeing her funny?”
“Funny how?”
“Like you wanted to see her naked funny.”
I almost choked on my snow globe shaped cookie. “No, Mom please don’t.”
“You know what I mean, the look a man gives when he wants to have sexual relations.”
“Could you please stop saying the words sexual relations?”
“What would you prefer I call it, intercourse, the horizontal mambo? In my day they called it doing the nasty.”
“I’m banning all of those words from your vocabulary.”
Her soft laughter rang out on the other end. She loved to push my buttons.
My mother was a tried and true Canadian. She met my dad, who was in the city for work, and they fell for one another hard and fast. They were engaged within two weeks and married a month later, and then she got pregnant with me. Engaged, married, and pregnant all in under a year. From them I learned to trust my instincts. If something felt right, waiting around to confirm what you already knew wasn’t going to change anything.
Clearing my throat, I chose my next words carefully. “I was thinking about bringing a guest or two home for Christmas.”
“Really, who?”
“My fake wife, Belen and her sister,” I teased.
“So you two are smashing?”
My eyebrows mashed together. “Who is teaching you this terminology?”
She ignored my question, countering with a thought of her own. “I don’t think you’ve ever brought a woman home with you for Christmas. Not even when you were dating that Claudia person.”
“That’s because Claudia liked spending the holidays on the beach.”
“She thought she was better than us.”
“No she didn’t.”
“She hated Ottawa. Kept calling it quaint.”
“Ottawa is quaint.”
“You don’t think I know what that’s code for? Hopefully Baylen has more sense.”
“Her name is Ba-len.”
“So tell me about the girl. Do you expect me to meet your girlfriend and not get the 411?”
“Once again she’s not my girlfriend.”
“But you’re hoping she’s interested.”
“I just don’t want her to be alone for Christmas.”
“Why would she be alone?”
For the next twenty minutes, I told my mother all about Belen. Almost gushing while trying to convey how amazing she was. I sounded like one of those obsessed fans who thinks their favorite celebrity was the first to ever do anything. But in my opinion Belen was that extraordinary. I was impressed with her creativity, the way she could transform a space and craft an immersive experience. She was a nurturer, taking care of her sister. And her sense of humor was in tune with mine. I found myself laughing at the way she made even the mundane retelling of events a spectacle.
Belen was also someone who was dealt enormous responsibility at a young age. It was obvious her needs often took a backseat to others. Even though it had only been a few weeks, I was more than willing to step up and help her carry her load. Belen didn’t need my help because clearly, she was getting by, but she deserved more than just getting by. She deserved to be catered to. My mom just allowed me to drool over this woman. When I finally paused for a breath, I felt a bit embarrassed for sharing so much.
“Sounds like you might be smitten.”
I didn’t want to confirm that, so I shifted gears. “I know it’s short notice but we can stay in a hotel?—”
“Don’t be silly, you’ll stay with us. It’s Christmas and family should be together.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you going to any extra trouble.”
“We’ll make it work. Plus, your sister will be happy to have women close in age to talk to.”
I was happy to hear my mom agree to take us in, because finding a hotel this close to Christmas would be next to impossible. But not as difficult as getting Belen to agree to come with me.
Belen
Celeste was in the back seat of Kris’s SUV, talking his head off. Even after his generous invitation, I was reluctant to bring her with me only because I knew how quickly she attached herself to people and when they stopped showing up, she took it personally. And after what happened with Aiden, it felt too soon to introduce some new potential love interest.
Before Kris picked us up, Celeste and I had a pep talk. I let her know Kris was only a friend and that after the holidays, we may not see him as much. My goal was to alleviate the inevitable questions that would follow when it was decided this relationship had run its course.
“So how often do you go to the community center?” Kris asked.
“Every day except Friday, we are learning about independent living.”
“What’s that mean?” He looked at Celeste in the rear-view mirror.
“It means I can move out and have my very own place.”
Kris glanced at me, his eyes studying the uneasiness that overtook my features before returning his gaze to the road.
“You need to finish the course first and then we’ll decide about you getting a place of your own.”
“I’m not a child, Belen.” Celeste locked her arms across her chest.
“I know that. A second apartment is expensive and you’re not working full time, so I’ll have to crunch the numbers and see if we can swing it.”
“When I graduate, I can start working more.”
It was always the same argument whenever this topic came up. The plan had always been for my sister to live with a family member. First my dad and now me. Celeste was thirty, of course she wanted independence. But the reality was that Down syndrome made safely navigating the world more challenging for her. To protect her, I needed to keep her close.
“Can we put a pin in this conversation for a later date?” Kris did not need to listen to us squabble. We would deal with the housing situation if or when Celeste proved she could live on her own.
The rest of the drive, we let the Christmas music reset the mood and fill the conversation void. When we arrived, we found a parking spot and with the warm drinks in hand, we took to the neighborhood on foot. I adjusted the zipper on Celeste’s coat, ensuring it was all the way up. The last thing I needed was for her to catch a cold. She was the worst patient, complaining it was too cold and then when you brought her an extra blanket, she would turn around and claim it was too hot.
As we rounded the corner into the neighborhood, the lights were blinding. Kris was right, this was impressive. Palatial homes all decked out in holiday cheer. One home was filled with carolers in their driveway singing “White Christmas.” Another home had a full-size sleigh with the fake reindeer Kris promised and Santa Claus atop the roof making his way to the chimney using some type of electronic pulley system. I took several pictures of the various displays with my phone because inspiration could be derived from anywhere.
Hooking Kris’s arm with mine, I asked, “What do you think their light bill looks like?” I pointed to a home draped in thousands of multicolored lights.
“I watched a Mythbuster episode once that said a thousand Christmas lights would add roughly forty dollars to a monthly electric bill. This house probably has close to fifty thousand lights strung up and that doesn’t include the inflatables and the lawn lighting. So we’re looking at something in the neighborhood of two thousand dollars each month.”
Listening to Kris talk about things he’d learned or studied was one of my favorite ways to pass the time. I found myself playing with the fringes of my scarf as he spoke. He appeared completely oblivious to the fact that his confident authority was making me warm and soft on the inside.
“That’s a lot of money,” Celeste said.
“Do you think it’s worth it?” Kris asked her.
“Well it makes people happy. I’m happy looking at it, so maybe that makes it worth it. Right Belen?”
“This is definitely worth it.” I breathed out, my eyes still locked in on Kris’s face.
Kris leaned in, planting a simple kiss on my mouth. The touch of his soft lips warded off the chill of the night air.
“Oh brother.” Celeste rolled her eyes. “I thought you two were just friends?”
“We are.” I gave her a bashful smile.
“Friends don’t kiss friends on the lips.”
Releasing an exaggerated gasp, I said, “Oh my God, is that a Disney display?” In hopes of distracting Celeste, I pointed to a house across the street.
“Where?” She followed the direction of my hand with her eyes. Her face lit up when she recognized it. “I’m going over.”
“Okay, be careful.” Celeste crossed the street and immediately started inspecting the house decorated with some of the most popular Disney characters.
“Good recovery,” Kris said.
“She catches everything.”
“Yeah, well maybe because you told her we were friends.”
“We are friends.”
“Nah, Celeste is right. Friends don’t do the type of shit we be doing.”
“Not sure I’m really following, because we’re not a couple.”
“Well as far as most of Minneapolis is concerned, we’re married.”
“But we’re not married.”
“Maybe we should be.” He bounced a nonchalant shoulder. This man treated life like it was one big whim. Where consequences were few. Kris didn’t break a sweat about being unemployed for a year. He traveled the country doing as he pleased when he pleased. With no one to answer to, I think all the freedom had gone to his head. Who knows, maybe a quickie wedding in Vegas was on his bucket list, but it wasn’t on mine.
I stepped back so I could see his full face. “Can we be serious for a minute?”
“Sure.”
“It’s only been days. I mean you and I have only known one another for days.”
“It’s been several weeks.”
“Weeks are made up of days. And I don’t think we’ve spent enough days together to be tossing around words like forever.”
Kris squared his shoulders. “Here’s what I know. I like you … a lot … and I’m ready to put a title on that shit. So boyfriend, girlfriend, mate, life partner. No scratch that last one, life partner seems too formal. But you get where I’m going with this.”
“You want to be my boyfriend?” I’m not going to lie, saying the word out loud tickled me.
“I feel confident I can meet your strict nonnegotiables.”
I raised a challenging eye. “Don’t be so certain.”
“Come on, hit me with it.” He held out his arms and performed the bring it on gesture with his hands.
“With what?”
“The list. Every woman has one.”
“I don’t.”
Kris pulled his lips into a dubious wad.
“Maybe there’s a list of some nice to have qualities but no deal breakers.”
“Such as?”
“He has to be taller than me, even if only by a few inches.”
“I check that box in triplicate.”
“I’m looking for a man of faith.”
“I have the Lord on speed dial.”
“But is he accepting your calls?” I teased.
“Funny, you’re very funny. Go on.”
Pulling back slightly, I took a deep breath. This next one was in fact a deal breaker. And I would walk away from anyone who was unable to fulfill it. “He has to accept my sister and the fact that she will always be a fixture in my life. And understand Celeste is a blessing, never a burden.”
All the humor drained from Kris’s face. “Have other men treated your sister like a burden?”
“Men say they can handle it, but long term they can’t. I just can’t travel to Europe for a month eating baguettes and taking selfies in front of the Eiffel Tower. Shit, I can barely leave for a week-long getaway to Cabo. I don’t have a spontaneous lifestyle because my obligations to my sister supersede all that. Some guys I’ve dated felt inconvenienced and had the audacity to try and make me feel guilty for putting my sister first.”
“It sounds like you’ve dated some real jerks.”
“I am kind of a fuckboy magnet.”
“Hopefully you’re open to giving the boyfriend thing another shot.”
I tugged at his coat. “Kris, I?—”
“Guys you have to come see this. They have all the Disney princesses.” Celeste bounded over, grabbing both our hands.
“Is Tiana there? Because if they ain’t repping Tiana, I’m calling foul,” Kris joked.
Celeste pulled us forward. “Come see for yourself.”
Back at my apartment, we were greeted by a tree bound in twine and several boxes. “What’s this?” I searched the items, looking for a tag or note so we could deliver the items to the correct neighbor.
“Looks like Christmas came early,” Kris said.
“Is this for us?” Celeste asked, a smile spreading across her face.
“You didn’t think your sister was going to let Christmas come and go with no decorations, did you?”
“I knew it, Belen. I knew you were just trying to surprise me.” Celeste threw her arms around me.
My arms were limp, unable to return her hug, still shocked by the unexpected delivery. “I don’t know where?—”
“Where to start first. No worries. Celeste and I will help you. Just open the door and we’ll get to work.”
I obeyed, opening the front door, and Celeste selected one of the smaller boxes, carrying it inside.
“You did this?” I tugged on Kris’s coat and he shrugged my words off. “You shouldn’t have, this is too much. I can’t possibly accept this.”
“It’s a tree and some tinsel. It’s not like I bought you a vineyard.”
“Is that something you do? Buy women vineyards?”
“No. But if you keep looking at me like that, I might buy an island and name it after you.”
He was joking. At least I think he was joking.
“Thank you.”
“Mhmm.”
“I’m serious. You made my sister’s night and you let me take all the credit.”
“The smile on Celeste’s face made it all worth it.”
Kris was being modest, the boxes contained much more than just a tree and some tinsel. There was a wreath for the front door. A miniature holiday village, and everything you’d need to deck out a Christmas tree. He left no detail unattended. There were even kitchen towels with Santa on his sleigh and soap dispensers in the shape of snowmen.
We wasted no time stripping out of our heavy coats, pulling up a Christmas playlist, and unpacking the boxes. I may hate Christmas, but I loved seeing my sister happy. A pang pulled at my heart at the realization that I almost denied her this. She didn’t deserve to have a Scrooge for a sister. Yes, decorating the tree reminded me of my parents, but maybe it was time to work on building new memories like this one. Kris playfully placing tinsel in Celeste’s hair. My sister grouping all the ornaments by color so the tree took on an ombre effect. Or the sweet kisses Kris would plant on my cheek or neck when he passed by me.
My emotions were complicated with grief and sadness, but there was a hearty dose of gratitude and dare I say, holiday cheer mixed in. Some things needed to be taught, and right now Kris was teaching me how to move on while still honoring the past. When it came time to top the tree, Kris reached for a box with a glitter gold star inside.
“Uhm … actually we already have a tree topper. Is it okay if we use that?”
“Of course, this is your tree.”
I took off for the hall, pulling boxes and plastic containers from the closet until I found a worn box on the top shelf. Returning to the living room, I opened the box to reveal a Black angel.
“I remember her,” Celeste exclaimed.
“This is the angel we would put on top of the tree each year. It’s kind of been buried in the closet since Dad died.”
“It makes Belen sad.” Celeste rubbed my back.
“It did. But I think it’s important to hold on to our traditions and this tree topper is a big part of that.” I handed the angel to Celeste and with the help of Kris, she climbed the step stool and made the tree official.
After decorating, we deserved a sweet treat, so I made us all hot chocolate, adding a little something extra to Kris’s and my mugs. With all the excitement of the evening, checking out the beautiful homes with impressive lights and inflatables and creating a bit of Christmas cheer in our apartment, Celeste was more than ready to call it a night. Once I got her situated in her room, I found Kris shirtless in my bedroom, a satisfying sight that made my body hum with anticipation.
“Is this you with your dad?” He lifted a picture of Celeste and me with our father.
“Mm-hmm.”
Kris placed the frame back on the windowsill. “So what did Celeste mean when she said she planned to move out?”
Removing my earrings, I placed them in the jewelry dish on my dresser. “Just that. She wants to get a place of her own.”
“Is that possible for her?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his perfectly toned chest.
“Yes, many people with Downs live alone, have jobs, and even get married and have kids.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’m not certain Celeste is one of those people,” I said, tugging off my sweater to reveal a cami underneath.
“Why? From what I gather she’s smart, perceptive, and thoughtful.”
“She’s also naive and kind to people who don’t deserve it.”
“Well maybe it’s because you shelter her.” He tossed his watch on the bedside table.
His words were like a blow to the face. Tightness took up space in my chest and I bared my teeth. “I don’t shelter her.”
Kris showed his palms, his tone apologetic. “You love your sister and you want to protect her. I get it. But you need to give her space to spread her wings.”
“And what if her wings get singed? Then what?” I’d been taking care of Celeste all my life. Kris didn’t understand how vulnerable she was.
“You’re there to help her land on her feet, dust herself off, and take flight again. You’re like her one-woman pit crew.”
I planted my arms firmly across my chest. “You don’t get it.”
“No, not all of it. Explain to me what you’re afraid of.” His eyes were soft with no judgment to be found. Sitting on the bed, he patted the space next to him, inviting me to join.
When it came to Celeste, I was fiercely protective, but now staring into Kris’s sincere face, I felt foolish for getting so worked up. Taking a seat beside him, I did my best to explain the things that kept me up at night with worry. “I just don’t want anyone taking advantage of her, mentally, physically, emotionally. There are stories every day, on the feeds of the Downs groups I follow, about people young and old being scammed, or harassed, or abused. The world can be a cruel place for anyone, but especially for someone people see as different. Celeste is a Black woman with developmental delays; she’s the poster child for different. Why would I want to subject her to greedy employers, insensitive strangers on the street, and don’t even get me started about men, if I could stop it?”
“But we can’t protect people from life; we can only give them the tools to navigate through it.” Kris’s tone was soothing, his demeanor calm. This wasn’t his sister. He didn’t have a dog in this fight. Celeste was all I had.
“I would die for my sister.” My eyes were getting misty.
“I know you would, but you don’t have to.” He hooked his thumb under my chin, tilting until my eyes were level with his. “I’m sure we can think of a way to keep her safe while allowing her the freedom to grow separate and apart from you.”
Did he just say we like he was ready to take on my problems as his? No one was asking him to do that. I didn’t need him to. With the death of my mother, I learned early on to be independent and to rely on my own efforts … not promises, no matter how well intentioned.
“I just don’t want to mess this up. She’s counting on me. And I promised my father I’d take care of her.”
“And you’ve kept your promise. But maybe taking care of her is also allowing her to grow.”
I nodded my head slowly, really taking in his words. Since my father’s death, I didn’t have anyone I could talk to about this type of stuff. So having Kris ask questions, listen to my concerns, and try to offer up advice was appreciated. Even if I bristled and pushed back a bit, I needed to hear an opinion opposite from mine.
I wanted Celeste to live a full life. That’s why I enrolled her in the classes at the community center. My parents and I taught her daily life skills, but this shit was nuanced and there was still so much I didn’t know. We should have enrolled her years ago because she was thriving and each day, she was so excited to tell me about what she learned.
The course at the center was a twelve-week program with classroom training and weekly field trips to enforce the lessons they were taught. Ultimately, the goal was to prepare the students to live on their own, secure employment, and create space for themselves, all things Celeste was eager to do. She was ready but I was … terrified. In the last months of my father’s life, we discussed Celeste and her future care at length. My dad made me promise I’d always be there for her. This was a commitment I took seriously, and I just couldn’t wrap my head around how to stay true to that promise if Celeste was living anywhere but with me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For?”
“For tonight. For the decorations and tree. For being kind and listening to me vent. And for all of this.” I slid my hand over his abs. Who still has defined abs after eating dinner and drinking several mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows?
“I got you something.”
“I hope you’re joking. You’ve already gone above and beyond.”
“Relax, it cost zero dollars. I made a Wordbop for you.”
“What?”
“On my phone there’s a Wordbop puzzle waiting to be solved.” He handed his phone over to me and there it was, the Wordbop app.
“Did you pay The New York Times to create a puzzle just for me?”
“No, I logged into the simulation app I used during the initial testing.”
“Oh, that actually makes more sense.” Opening the app, a puzzle immediately populated. “This isn’t your standard Wordbop.” Normally Wordbop’s were always one-word puzzles consisting of five letters, but this puzzle had nine letters.
“It’s a special edition puzzle.”
“Can I try solving it now?”
“Please.”
I slowly worked through the puzzle, selecting letters I thought would fit. Wordbop required the player to be strategic because you were only allowed five guesses. Kris sat next to me, silently twiddling his thumbs. As the word slowly filled in, my normally big eyes narrowed, scanning him suspiciously before reading the completed puzzle out loud. “Boyfriend?”
Kris gasped loudly, raising his hand to his mouth. “Oh my God. Belen, do you mean it? You want me to be your boyfriend? It’s all I’ve ever wanted … to be your man. I’m all for women taking the lead and grabbing what they want by the balls.”
I released a chuckle. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Any man would be a fool to let you go.”
“Hmm, I know a few Bozos.” I handed him back his phone. “Dating me is complicated. Like I told you, Celeste is my priority. Anything else, anyone else, will always come second.”
“I’m okay with finding a balance as we go. I’m not asking you to put me first. I’m just asking for you to make room for me in your life.”
“You can’t know off of two dates that you want to be exclusive.”
“Don’t you?”
I did know. I knew Kris was special and he made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in quite some time. I knew he cared, cared about me and Celeste. I knew I trusted him. And I suspected that if I let him, he’d love me in ways I’d only imagined but never actually experienced. Knowing all that, I was still scared, because I’d thought I knew with Aiden. Which is hilarious because looking back now, all Aiden did was show me he didn’t have my back and I was stupid to trust him.
Kris was the anti-Aiden. He was selfless, kind, he actually listened to me, and when it came to sex … Aiden could never. “I’m going to be honest with you Kris. I’m damaged goods. I may look good from afar, but when you get close you can detect all the cracks and flaws.”
“Do I look scared?”
He didn’t. Kris looked like he always did calm, cool, and collected, which immediately made me feel the same.
“What do you want Kris?”
He cupped the sides of my face. “Right now in this moment, I want you.”
“What about all the other moments?”
“I don’t know. And I get how that could be scary. But I can tell you what I do know. Every time we talk, I walk away with a goofy grin on my face. Throughout the day I’ll just break into laughter thinking about something funny you said. When I catch sight of you it’s as if the oxygen is being sucked from the room because you literally take my breath away. I can’t articulate why I know it’s you. But I know you’re it for me. If you’re not ready to take this relationship to the next step, that’s perfectly fine because I’m willing to wait for cupid to spin the block and shoot you with his arrow.”
“So you’re just not scared this could end up in flames with us never talking to one another again?”
“Is it a possibility? Sure. But five years with you, shit five good months with you would make the heartbreak worth it.”
“We barely know each other.”
“My parents knew each other for two weeks when my dad popped the question and they’ve been happily married for close to thirty-six years. Time is relative.”
I was one of those women who wanted to be pursued; wooing was a lost art form. Nowadays most people fell into relationships without ever clearly declaring their true feelings. If you asked me, I think they did that so when it didn’t work, they could walk away under the pretense they were never fully invested. With no official titles, you’re not suffering a loss when it falls apart.
Then there were the guys who said all the right things. Showered you with attention, made you feel special, but it was all a ruse to get you to fall so that when they started to be neglectful, you’d stick around hoping the dude you fell for would eventually return. These types of brothers were soul suckers, taking a little of you each time. They stole bits and pieces of your joy, time, and hope, leaving behind anxiety, stress, and self-doubt. Aiden could be classified as a soul sucker. He laid out the rug and then pulled it from under me, only to blame me when the shift caused me to take a tumble.
“I steal things,” I blurted out. It was important he understood what he was getting into.
“Excuse me?”
“I steal things. I’m not doing smash and grabs at the mall, but occasionally I steal things.”
“Why are you telling me this?
“Because I’m a thief, Kris and you have to accept that. I have no intentions of changing and I don’t want to ruin your Wordbop empire. I am currently stealing internet from my neighbor. When I go to a yogurt shop, I hide gummy bears at the bottom of the cup so I don’t get charged.”
“Don’t they use scales?”
“If they can’t see it, it doesn’t count.”
“I don’t think that’s how Pinkberry works but?—”
“And then there are the hotels. I take pens, robes, and items from the maid’s cart. All my towels are from Holiday Inn’s spring break collection.”
“Wow, sticky fingers,” he joked.
“That’s not a deal breaker?”
“Belen, I work in tech. If I told you some of the stories your head would spin. I’m talking embezzlement, fraud, and sex scandals. Petty theft I can handle, although we may want to look into a program. Plus, I already knew you were a thief because you stole my hea?—”
I lifted a silencing finger. “Please don’t.”
“You’re right, that was corny.”
The last time a guy asked me to be his girlfriend was my freshman year of college. I appreciated Kris being upfront with his feelings, and it was hard not to buy into the all in romance story he was pushing.
“I’m willing to give you a monthly subscription. Meaning either one of us can cancel at any time,” I said.
“I was looking for more of an annual fee.” He pulled me onto his lap.
Anything he said after that was lost because all my focus was diverted to the bulge I was straddling. Even though there was fabric between us, my hips instinctually started to slowly grind against him.