33. Benji
Benji
“Are you sure I shouldn’t get anything else?” Lyssa asks.
“No, this is more than enough,” I assure her for the third time, attempting to hide my amused grin.
If I didn’t know better, I would assume that Lyssa had grown up in Minnesota.
It seems like the entire state’s love language is gift giving, and the table in front of us is overflowing with them.
She’s selected a thank-you gift for my family hosting her, as well as individual gifts for my sister, mom, dad, and great-grandma, and a tin of cookies she baked the night before.
Now, she shoves all the goodies carefully into a bag, double-checking that the bows remain intact.
“You know, when I asked you to join us for Christmas, I thought we would just head over for a few hours of fun,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting…well, this.”
She ignores me completely, spinning in a circle as she assesses everything.
Her hair is curled, and I can tell she took extra care with her makeup – something Gabi would be proud I noticed, since as she likes to point out, I’m usually terrible with those things.
She’s wearing a knitted evergreen sweater and jeans, something she decided on after I insisted my family is casual.
The sight of it made me go back to my apartment and change out of my standard Grinch t-shirt into a nice cream long-sleeve and green flannel, just so she didn't feel overdressed.
“We match,” she says absently, tugging on my shirt, and I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. Fuck, she even smells like Christmas, some delicious scent of sugar cookies.
“We do,” I agree. “They’re going to think we’re sickeningly adorable.”
We put our shoes on, and out of the corner of my eye. I notice her fingers shaking slightly as she laces up her boots. When she straightens, I pull her to me again.
“Hey,” I say, rubbing her arms. “Deep breaths.” She nods, closing her eyes for a moment.
While she follows my advice, I take the moment to study her.
I can tell it’s a big step for her, and I want to ask how I can help make it better, but I don’t think she would have the answer for me, either.
I can only hope the warm embrace of my family will give her what she needs.
We’ve experienced our share of losses, too, but we’ve healed around the cracks, becoming closer than before, and I know Lyssa will be welcomed in with open arms.
She opens her eyes, and I’m relieved to see a steadiness in her blue gaze. She nods at me, and I return it with a smile. I grab the overflowing bag of goodies and motion for her to head out the door ahead of me, giving Winston a scratch as we go.
“There’s only one rule in the Estes household,” I say as I shut the door behind me.
She looks back at me, alarmed. “What’s that?”
“You have to let Grandma cheat at cards.”
“I told you, it wasn’t me who took your Pokémon game!” I scrub a hand down my face. We’re a few drinks deep, and the reminiscing has gone as far back as elementary school, where things quickly turned combative.
“Then who did?” Gabi taps her fingers on her wine glass, quirking a brow at me.
Lyssa and Alice are both holding glasses of wine as well, their eyes darting between the two of us.
Alice looks entirely unsurprised, having witnessed several holidays with us, but Lyssa’s expression is attentive and, to my relief, amused.
While my sister and I tend to default to bickering, it’s how we show our affection for each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I don’t know, who was your little friend who followed you around everywhere until you came out?” I wave my hand. “Lucas something-or-other?”
Gabi scoffs. “You think he stole my game out of spite?”
“Yes.” This time Alice and I answer in unison, and I shoot her a grateful look for the backup.
Gabi shakes her head. “I don’t think so. You were even more obsessed with those games than I was. And you were mad that I got the new game for Christmas that year.”
“There’s a reason they’re still making new games. They’re timeless. But,” I add pointedly, “he was more obsessed with you than I ever was with those games.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You just want to argue with me here, don’t you?” I ask, exasperated.
She grins. “Maybe.”
Alice and Lyssa laugh, and then my mom pops her head in from around the corner. “It’s time to play ball!”
She taps her knuckles on the wall and disappears. Gabi and I scramble up, and Alice giggles as my sister grabs her hand, shoving past me in her rush to get to the living room.
Lyssa sidles up to me, her brow adorably wrinkled in confusion. “Does your family play basketball too?”
“No.” I chuckle. “This is a game left over from our younger years. We didn’t…well, every spare dollar went to making sure my siblings and I could chase our dreams. So, our Christmases didn’t always look as flashy as my friends’.”
Lyssa bites her lip and nods. “I get it. All the other kids at school got such amazing presents from Santa. I used to wonder what I did to make Santa upset.”
My heart twists painfully, but in a weird way, it feels good to talk about this. It’s something we both can relate to, despite all the other completely different journeys that led us to where we are now.
“I understood why my parents prioritized certain things when I got older, but when I was young, it wasn’t like I could unwrap all the training camps and select team fees.
” I pick at a piece of the label on my beer that’s peeling off.
“My biggest gifts were always hand-me-down equipment from my brother, but even those were usually a size or two too big. I had to wear two sets of socks, and even then, I got some gnarly blisters.”
“What?” She gapes at me. “What did you do about the blisters?”
I shrug. “Super glue works wonders.”
She opens her mouth, ready to argue or ask questions, but Gabi pops back around the corner. “Head’s up!”
A giant white ball comes hurtling my way, and I barely get my free hand around it in time to catch the awkward object.
“God, this gets bigger every year,” I complain, shifting it in my arm. “I kind of miss when it was just lollipops and stickers.”
“Pffft. If that were true, you wouldn’t have dropped off five of your own gifts and a metric fuck ton of shrink wrap.”
Lisa shoots me a curious look, and I feel my face growing warm. “We had a bunch of swag dropped off at the rink, and they were just going to throw out the shrink wrap. I didn’t want to be wasteful.”
“My eco-friendly brother-in-law,” Alice coos. “I appreciate it.”
“All right, kiddos, let’s play!” My mom ushers my dad into the room and gathers us all around, holding oven mitts and a cup filled with two dice.
Great-grandma, having had her three glasses of wine and sufficiently cheated her way through cards, is still on the chair nearest the TV.
Judging by the soft snores I hear, she’s not going to join us anytime soon.
“So…how do we play this?” Lyssa’s voice is soft and timid, but my mom doesn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, it’s super silly. Give it a few rounds, and you’ll have the hang of it.
” She beams at Lyssa, who flushes, giving her a shy smile in return.
“Benji here will start with the oven mitts. Gabi will start with the dice. Benji has to wear the oven mitts and try to pull apart as much of the shrink wrap as he can before Gabi rolls doubles. Once she does, she gets the mitts and the ball, and then you get the dice. And so on.”
“Don’t worry about Benji snagging any of the good gifts from the ball.” Gabi nudges Lyssa with her shoulder. “For someone who wears gloves professionally, he can’t unwrap that thing to save his life. One year when he was little, he barely got through two layers the whole night.”
Alice leans in and whispers to Lyssa, “I hope he’s better with his bare hands than those oven mitts. That’s super embarrassing for a professional athlete.”
I choke, whipping my head toward Gabi as she bursts out laughing at her wife’s comment. Lyssa’s face has turned a shade of crimson, and I pray she’s not ready to bolt.
“Okay, children!” My mom claps. “Let’s get started!”
Gabi grabs the cup and I grab the oven mitts, determined to shake my bad reputation – on my first holiday bringing a significant other home, no less. I grit my teeth and get to work, but it only takes three rolls for Gabi to get doubles. She rips the mitts off of me, cackling.
Around we go, little goodies being peeled off in rapid succession. Candy, gift cards, face masks, and jewelry come flying out, as well as little pieces of paper that say things like STEAL or REVERSE.
Eventually, a mini wrapped ball pops out of the larger one, and it gets sent around the circle counter-clockwise with its own pair of dice.
“This is so intricate!” Lyssa huffs, fiddling intently with the wrapping of the mini ball. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth in concentration, and it’s so adorable I have to remind myself not to tug her into my lap. She’s competitive enough that I think she would hate me for it.
“We’ve had quite some time to perfect the game,” my dad says with a chuckle. “Every few years we think of something new to add to it.”
A game card pops out of the larger ball, and Gabi lets out a victorious shriek. “Ohmygod, Benji, did you do this?”
“I knew that damn game would come up again this year. And even though it wasn’t me,” I pause for emphasis, “I figured this might put an end to you blaming me for it.”
She throws her arms around me, laughing. “This is the best gift. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” I squeeze her back.
When I turn around, I find Lyssa grinning at me.
“So that’s one of the five gifts you dropped off,” she notes. “What other goodies are hiding in here?”
“I guess you’ll just have to dig in and see, L.”
“Well, as luck would have it, I seem to be far better with these mitts than you are.” Lyssa digs into the shrink wrap with gusto, then yelps when a bracelet comes flying out, skittering across the floor from the force of her ripping the ball apart.
She scrambles across the floor on her hands and knees, still wearing the oven mitts, to chase the item down.
The entire scene sends a chuckle busting out of me, and Lyssa shoots me a sheepish glance that only makes it worse. I laugh harder. She flushes, but then lets out a giggle of her own, followed by one of her little snorts. Within seconds, we’re both laughing uncontrollably.
By the time we catch our breath moments later, Lyssa’s lost her round with the mitts. Alice tugs them off her hands, grinning as she does. My gaze bounces off Alice and around the circle, surprised to find everyone giving us warm, knowing smiles.
It’s not the kind of smile where I’m in the dark about an inside joke, though. I know exactly what they’re thinking, and I feel the same.
This feels like something I would happily experience, every year.
When we say our goodbyes later that night, they come with all the classics I’ve come to learn from my family.
Everyone thanks Lyssa for their gifts, and she thanks them in return for hosting her.
My mother gives her a recipe on a notecard that they discussed earlier in the night.
My dad and I make plans to play some indoor golf, and Gabi asks if I’m still free to cat-sit in two weeks.
We hug everyone goodbye at least three times, because another conversation started from the living room to the front door, and from the front door to the porch.
Even Grandma wakes up long enough for the parting hugs.
I worry it was all too much for Lyssa, but the flushed smile on her face looks truly genuine. When we slide into my car, I blast the heat, giving it a minute to warm up.
“Did you…have fun?” I ask, and I'm surprised by important her answer is to me.
“I really, really did.” She smiles to herself, taking off her hat and mittens. “I can see how much your family loves you.”
“Well, most of them. Gabi is fifty-fifty.”
Lyssa chuckles. I carefully pull out of the driveway, turning the evening over in my mind. “And now, they love you.”
When I’m met with silence, I glance over at Lyssa.
Her smile has faltered, and she’s fiddling with her hat in her lap, gaze turned downward. Shit, was that too much?
“They don’t know me,” she says softly.
“What do you mean?” Does this mean she’d rather they know her real name? Her backstory? I can’t tell if it’s because she’s withholding information from them, or from me. For some reason, I feel like it’s both.
She shakes her head and turns on the radio, answering with a soft, “Nevermind.”
I want to press her on the matter, but she’s already long gone, her thoughts carrying her somewhere I can’t reach.