23
T he next morning, MC volunteered to get the mail, walking out along the driveway as slowly as she could.
She surveyed the dead plants. The damage to the gravel driveway where it met the road.
The state of the oak trees. It was so cold the air felt brittle, but she kept her hands in her pockets and toughed it out.
The lights were on in Nora’s house. It was hard not to gawk.
She’d been hoping a text might arrive. Or that Nora would be so annoyed that MC was back, she’d find an excuse to come out and say something rude. Anything to get the ball rolling. But MC’s phone didn’t chime, and the only sound was the wind whistling through the bare branches.
Eventually she went back in. Gabby had gotten a late start on the day and needed help with the ham. MC was assigned the gravy. As far as she could tell, the main thing to do was stir the pot of brown goo on the stove, making sure it didn’t burn.
“Have you had any weird cravings?” she said, because Gabby was being unusually quiet.
“Um, sleep?” She laughed, but it sounded forced. “That’s about it.”
“Building a human is pretty intense.”
“Yeah. I thought I’d escaped the z’s after the first trimester was so easy, but... here I am.”
“Maybe it’s just holiday stress.”
“I guess so.”
“I think you’re really tough. I mean, for going through all this.”
“I don’t feel tough. I feel like a drag.” Gabby laughed again, but it sounded even more hollow than before. “God, I thought I was going to be this glowing earth mama. But instead, I’m just wiped out and moody all the time.”
“Do you want to lie down? I can finish the gravy on my own.”
“No, I’m okay. It’s nice to have company.”
MC tried to smile. “Conrad’s still super busy with work, huh?”
“Something about last-minute midyear assessments. And I think he’s mad at me.”
MC stopped stirring for a moment. “Why would he be mad at you?”
“For making the announcement at Thanksgiving.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I sort of sprung it on him.” Gabby twisted a dish towel in her hands.
“I tried to consult with him about it beforehand, but he kept being like, ‘Uh, I need to think about it.’ Except he never thought about it.” She sighed.
“I figured we couldn’t keep it a secret much longer, anyway.
And everyone was there, in such a celebratory mood. But he acted like I’d betrayed him.”
“He’s probably just really nervous.”
“I mean, shit, I’m really nervous too. That’s why we need to be a team on this.” She looked up from the dish towel, her eyes boring into MC’s. “The last thing I want is to go through this alone.”
MC could only hold Gabby’s gaze for a second or two. She was saved by her phone vibrating.
It was Nora.
Lois wants me to invite you to our holiday party tonight.
Gabby leaned over, a hand on her hip, and grinned. MC was relieved to see some of her usual warmth surfacing through the fatigue.
But she was even more relieved that Nora had finally broken her silence.
“Girl,” Gabby said, “you have to go.”
“But we just told your family I’m coming to dinner.”
“I’ll say you got sick.”
“That suddenly?”
She shrugged. “Food poisoning.”
“I feel like Nora doesn’t actually want me to be there.”
“If that was true, she wouldn’t have texted you.”
MC texted back.
Do *you* want to invite me to your holiday party tonight?
Nora replied immediately.
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have texted you.
“Ha!” Gabby said, then went to check on the ham.
MC bit her lip.
Okay, I’ll be there.
And I think we should talk.
Even though I’m bad at talking.
I think so too.
That we should talk.
Not that you’re bad at talking.
Sorry it took me a while to get over myself.
Don’t be sorry.
I’m sorry this has been so complicated.
Party starts at 7. Wear red and green.
Are you wearing red and green?
I’m Jewish, MC.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.
After the dinner preparation was finished, Conrad wandered upstairs from the basement to help decorate their Christmas tree.
Saving it for the last minute was a Calloway thing.
Or that’s what MC and Conrad liked to pretend.
In reality, they’d inherited their parents’ discomfort with festivity.
By the time Conrad was a teenager, they were lucky to get a tree at all.
But because their celebrations were so brief, they took on a compressed, manic energy that MC had come to love.
Conrad put on a felt Santa hat and blasted holiday classics.
MC opted for elf slippers and wrapped herself in tinsel.
Gabby participated at a respectful distance, complimenting the way the lights were coming together, the even distribution of the ornaments, how happy the two weirdos seemed to be.
By nightfall, one of Gabby’s brothers had come by to pick up Gabby and Conrad and the ham.
MC said goodbye, then took a shower and got dressed, decking herself out in a big Snoopy Christmas sweater with an old pair of Conrad’s black work pants cuffed at the ankle.
Her hair was cooperating for once, the semi-tame pile of blond curls tucked carefully behind one ear.
She looked like herself. It would have to be enough.
The drive to the library was treacherous.
A surprise round of snow had come in with the frigid cold that night, and the Destroyer of Worlds was not, alas, a destroyer of frost. MC blasted the heat and squinted along the dark, winding roads, trying to see past the powerful glow of people’s lawn decorations.
When she arrived at the party, Bing Crosby was playing. The lobby had been hung with garlands and golden orbs. Maureen saw her first, wearing a ridiculous sweater of her own—a technicolor Rudolph piece featuring the Red-Nosed Reindeer defecating into a gift box.
Then Lois came over and gave her a candy cane. “Ho ho ho. If you suck it ’til it’s sharp, you could stab someone to death.”
MC blinked. “I guess so.”
“Helen,” Lois said, already turning after the head librarian, “I need to set up my karaoke machine...”
MC went over to the drinks table and poured herself an eggnog. She hoped it was alcoholic.
It wasn’t.
Nora either hadn’t arrived or was hiding somewhere.
MC posted up by a bust on a plinth and waited.
At least the growing crowd helped her feel less obvious in her loneliness.
In the span of twenty minutes, the thirty people in the lobby had swelled to over a hundred.
A space had even been cleared near the reference desk for dancing.
She tried to steel herself for the impending confession.
For Nora’s anger, judgment, and sadness.
She reminded herself that they were probably never going to be a thing anyway, and all she could hope for was that Nora might appreciate certain parts of the article in some distant future—the ones where MC had tried to express her admiration for Nora’s wit and self-possession, in prose and in real life; the ones where she tried to explain her own deliberately cultivated ignorance as a shield against engaging in honest relationships.
The parts where she hoped there was some connection between real life and even the most contrived fiction, in which emotional growth was possible, even if going about it turned out to be a lot more painful and boring than reading about it in stories.
“Wanna shake your tail feather?” Maureen asked.
MC wasn’t sure when the children’s librarian had appeared next to her. “Oh, uh... I’m really bad at dancing.”
“That’s literally the requirement around here.” Maureen looked out at the elders taking their shoes off next to the taped-down dance floor.
“I’m okay,” MC said. “Thanks, though.”
“Come on, we’re the only people here under fifty.”
Maureen took MC’s hand and pulled her along, MC trying not to spill her eggnog.
At first, she thought she’d just put a few cheesy moves in, then slink off to continue waiting for Nora.
But it felt good to be part of a group activity.
She bobbed her head, grateful for the low lights.
People in red turtlenecks and green chinos swayed their hips and boogied.
A few looked like they’d taken lessons, twirling around the dance floor, seasonal pins gleaming, their flesh-toned stockinged feet light and assured.
Someone took MC’s waist as part of a shimmying chain, and she kicked along, working up a sweat.
She was slowing down a little when Nora finally walked in.
The sight of her brought MC to a full stop.
Nora wore a sleeveless black jumpsuit and a gold chain around her neck, a gold bangle encircling her bicep. Her hair was caught in a high ponytail, like in high school, and the newness and familiarity of her made MC’s body feel instantly spring-loaded.
But she looked tense too. Or maybe just hesitant. She kept her hands behind her back as she scanned the crowd.
When her eyes met MC’s, MC struggled just to wave, weeks of pining giving way to a riptide of desire.
Which was not the mindset she was going for.
Luckily, Lois got to Nora first, giving MC a moment to gather herself.
She left the dance floor to frantically assemble a big plate of cookies.
She made a show of studying the display of children’s craft ornaments near the computers.
When Nora appeared next to her, there was a tectonic shift in her gut. But she tried to play it cool.
“I have something for you,” Nora said, looking equally flushed despite having just come in from the cold. She had to shout to be heard over the dance music.
MC cleared her throat. “Like, a present?”
“You could call it that.”
“Well, that’s really thoughtful of you.”
Nora’s eyes made a paranoid sweep of the party. “Actually, I’d rather give it to you somewhere private.”
MC realized Nora was holding something behind her back.
“Where do you want to go?” MC said, her throat suddenly dry.
But Nora was already walking off. MC followed, weaving through the crowd.
She headed past the study tables, all the way to the row where the history books were.
MC’s heart started hammering again. She told herself there was no way Nora was going to put a move on her now, after how clearly she’d shut things down between them last time.
And even if, in some impossible alternate universe, she’d changed her mind about all that, MC would stop her. Definitely.
MC caught up to Nora in the stacks. It was dim, quiet. Nora’s hands weren’t behind her back anymore.
She was holding a small, book-shaped object in patterned paper tight to her chest.
At first it seemed impossible; then it seemed so obvious MC couldn’t believe she hadn’t anticipated it.
Nora was also trying to come clean.
Being beaten to the punch was unacceptable. MC needed her own wrongs to come out first, because they were so much more damning, and because the only thing that could possibly make them worse was looking like she’d been shamed into admitting them.
Her phone started to buzz. She checked it quickly, saw that Conrad was calling, and cut the call off.
“What I’m about to give you,” Nora said slowly, “is something I think you might hate.”
Conrad was calling again. MC silenced her phone.
“But what I need you to know”—Nora took a breath—“is the reason why I did it.”
“Wait,” MC said, finally finding her voice. “Can I just say something first?”
Nora frowned. “I’d rather you not. This is kind of hard for me.”
Now Conrad was texting her.
Fuck fuck fuck I fucked it.
“Uh-oh,” MC whispered.
“What?”
“Sorry, I need to reply to this real quick.”
“Are you serious?”
What happened?
Gabby’s gone.
Her family chased me out of the house.
MC looked up. Nora seemed distraught, biting her lower lip, holding the present in a white-knuckle grip.
MC was floundering too. Her head was swimming with the scent of Nora’s perfume, the nearness of Nora in the stacks.
She knew she had to just get the truth out.
But she wanted to have time to explain why she’d written the article.
Why she still wished she hadn’t. How much she felt for Nora now, nine years too late, even if there was no future between them.
But for the first time, her brother needed her.
And she still had one more day.
She looked down at her phone again and typed frantically.
Where are you?
Freezing my balls off behind the deli.
“What’s going on?” Nora said.
“Gabby found out about my brother and Jae.” MC put a hand on her forehead, like she was checking for a fever. “I think I have to go deal with this.”
“Right now?”
MC told herself she wasn’t seizing on an excuse, or trying to avoid taking responsibility for her actions; she was allowing a temporary diversion for Conrad’s sake, because it was unacceptable to jeopardize his trust the first time he’d offered it to her. “I’m really sorry,” she said.
Nora looked miserable. “Please don’t go.”
“Can’t we just talk tomorrow? Or later tonight? This’ll take me an hour to deal with, maybe two—”
Nora shook her head, shoved the present into MC’s hands, and brushed past her without looking back.