Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Teddy
The sun is setting by the time dinner is ready.
I watch out the window as the fiery orange ball sinks into blue, winking once before it disappears.
We take our seats with Helen on my right.
Turkey, green beans, mashed potatoes, and fresh biscuits cover the table, their aroma mouthwatering.
The wine I brought sits uncorked in the middle, but only Helen and her dad pour a glass.
Linda and I stick with water. I wasn’t kidding when I told Jamie I’d given up alcohol, at least for now.
Phillip picks up the carving knife. His eyes flick to Helen, then to me. The corner of his mouth twitches and, for the first time tonight, I think he might actually be fighting a smile.
“You know,” he says dryly, “cutting this is the one surgery I’ll perform without billing insurance.”
“Dad.” Helen groans.
Linda swats his arm, laughing anyway. I chuckle, then laugh harder when Helen shoots me a can you believe him? look.
“Sorry, Bǎobèi,” Phillip says to Helen, smiling. “You know I can’t resist a good dad joke.”
The tension at the table loosens. By the time the plates are filled, it almost feels normal—like family.
“What does Bǎobèi mean?” I ask, curious.
“It’s a Chinese term of endearment,” Helen says. “Roughly ‘baby’ or ‘treasure.’”
“That’s cool.” I relax and lift my first forkful.
Phillip’s focus sharpens. He turns to Helen. “How’s the ER? Have you been hit with that new flu variant yet?”
The shift is subtle, but I catch it, the way her face pales, the slight stiffening of her shoulders.
She gets tense anytime the subject of a hospital comes up.
Just the other day, a commercial for a new medication came on TV.
Some actor in a white lab coat rattled off the side effects, ranging from hair loss to death, and Helen bolted from the room.
When she came back, her eyes were puffy and red.
I’d pretended not to notice, which was hard.
I wanted to comfort her, but I’m learning she doesn’t always like that. It embarrasses her. Makes things worse.
Not wanting her to feel that way again, I jump in. “That’s the one you were telling me about yesterday, right, Helen? When you came home from your shift?”
She chokes on her food slightly, then washes it down with a swallow of water. “Y—yes. That’s right.”
Phillip’s gaze narrows in on me like a laser. “Home? What? Are you two living together or something?”
Oops. Well, at least he’s not grilling Helen about work anymore. Now I’m the one who doesn’t know what to say.
Like we’re taking turns, Helen comes to my rescue. “Teddy’s house has stairs that he can’t manage with his cast so he’s living with me for a couple of months. The elevator at my place works better for him.” At her dad’s glower, Helen repeats, “It’s temporary. Just for a little while.”
Don’t know why it bothers me that she said that so quickly, with no hesitation.
Temporary.
That’s me, I guess. Always temporary.
I stare at my plate, pushing my food around but not lifting it to my mouth.
“What college did you graduate from, Teddy? You’re what? In your late twenties?” His eyes linger on me, a slow, appraising glance. I get the feeling he’s not happy with the age difference between me and his daughter.
For a second, I want to lie, to erase that veiled judgment from his expression, but I remind myself not to take the easy way out. “I’m twenty-six, sir, and not quite finished with college, but I’m close.” If having over a year and a half left counts as close, that is.
“Hmm,” he mutters. “What’s your major?”
“Communications.”
“What do you plan to do with that?”
I scramble for an answer and come up blank. Tell the truth. “I’m actually thinking of changing majors.”
He lets out a slow exhale, a subtle tightening around his lips. “You don’t have a clue what you want to do? Is that it?” His gaze flicks to Helen, who visibly shrinks, her shoulders hunching inward. That gesture, more than anything, lights something hot and red in my chest.
“Actually, I do.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“I want to join the Coast Guard,” I say firmly, with a confidence I don’t actually possess and yet something about it feels right, like those words were meant to leave my mouth.
Helen’s head snaps up, and she openly gapes, so obvious that I slowly move my knee over to jostle against hers. Her dad catches her expression of surprise. He opens his mouth, and I brace myself for a series of questions I can’t answer.
“Let’s go downstairs,” Linda interrupts. “I loaded It’s a Wonderful Life onto the TV. I thought we could all watch it together. We can come back up for dessert later. I’ve got pumpkin pie.”
Helen stands and stretches with her arms over her head. I’m careful not to look at how the gesture pulls her shirt tight across her chest. She sends me a laughing grin. “Thanksgiving dinner is over, which means Christmas is in full swing as far as my mom’s concerned.”
“What?” her mom protests. “I waited long enough!”
Helen mock-rolls her eyes. “Let’s be real, Mom. As far as you’re concerned, it’s been Christmas since November began.”
Linda turns to me, her eyes twinkling. “Back me up here, Teddy. The holiday season is the best time of the year, right?”
Understanding my role, I nod immediately. “Absolutely.”
“So why not make it last as long as possible? I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“Completely agree,” I say, backing her up again and earning a pleased smile from her.
“I grew up in Connecticut,” Linda says, her voice softening. “My most favorite thing was when it would snow on Christmas. There’s something magical about waking up, opening presents, then going outside to a blanket of white.”
She looks over at Helen with a wistful sigh. “One of my regrets is that Helen’s never had that experience. Even when she lived in New York, she always came home for Christmas.”
“Except last year,” Helen cuts in. “When I stayed to pack and for Gwen’s wedding.”
Her eyes fly to mine, and the air shifts. Her pupils dilate. Her breath catches.
She’s remembering. I know it.
The wedding. Dancing. My mouth on hers.
And just like that, so am I. The taste of her, the needy sounds she made when I moved inside her.
Seconds stretch, weighted and full, until it feels like the whole table has gone quiet, though I know it hasn’t. We’re both caught, suspended in a moment no one else can see.
I force myself to look away, lick my lips, focus on something safe. “Uh, it didn’t snow then. At Gwen’s wedding.”
“Right,” Helen says too quickly. Her eyes snap back to her parents, like she can slam the door shut on the past. “No white Christmas. Not that it mattered.” Her voice gentles into practiced warmth. “I’d rather be here with you and Dad than anywhere else.”
The words are meant for her parents, but they hit me like a physical blow. It shouldn’t bother me, how quickly she set the memory of us aside…but it does.
“I know, honey,” Linda says. “I love that, but I would’ve liked for you to have a real winter for once. Snowball fights. Snow angels. That’s how it was for me.”
Linda sniffs, blinking quickly. She’s trying not to cry, and for a second I see just how fragile this all is. How hard it must be for all of them, trying to make the most of what time they have left.
Helen steps in gently, trying to lift the mood. “We do lots of fun things here in California, though. Like the boat parade in Newport Beach. You love that.”
I perk up. “No way! You go to the Newport Beach boat parade? My housemate has a boat, and we always go too.”
“You do?” Helen looks at me, surprised.
“Yeah.” An idea sparks in my head, something small but good. I lean toward Linda, conspiratorial. “What if, this year, instead of watching from the shore...you were in the parade? Like, actually on a boat.”
“What?!” Linda’s eyes go wide, like a kid being offered a pony. She grabs my wrist and squeezes. “Are you serious? That’s on my bucket list!”
Those words, bucket list, make Phillip flinch.
His jaw clenches, and he busies himself straightening his silverware, lining up knife and fork like a surgeon preparing to operate.
For a moment, he looks older, wearier, and it strikes me that his gruffness isn’t only anger or judgment. It’s fear. Love.
“I’m totally serious.” I turn my attention back to Linda. “We decorate the boat every year. It’s not fancy, we’re not exactly Pinterest-level with our lights, but it’s a lot of fun.”
“Yes! I want to go!” Linda’s practically vibrating.
We share a smile, and it makes me feel good, like I’ve offered something to this family, to Helen who took me into her home when she didn’t have to. I want her to think I’m capable. That I can give as well as take.
“We’ll do the boat parade together,” Linda says, glowing. “But what about Christmas? Do you always stay in California for the holiday?”
“Yes, always here. I went away to college in Michigan for a while, but…” I sneak a look at Phillip, bracing myself for his usual disappointment.
Sure enough, his eyes harden almost imperceptibly.
“I didn’t like it. You remember the snow with such fondness, but to me, snow’s something you snowboard in, then leave. I didn’t like living in it.”
“You’ll be with your family here?” Linda asks.
I shake my head, warmth draining from my chest as I think about how dismal this Christmas will be.
“Not this year. My mom and stepdad are in Japan. He’s finishing up a big tech project so they can’t fly back.
My siblings are meeting them there with their families.
I was supposed to go too, but with this bum leg…
” I gesture downward, my tone dipping. “There’s no way I can manage the flight.
Can’t even bend my knee, and you know how legroom is on airplanes. ”
I look down at the floral tablecloth, trying to hide how pathetic I feel.
“That decides it!” Linda declares, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “You’re coming here for Christmas.”