Chapter 15 #2
He’s nowhere to be seen, but from the screeching giggle of the kids in the next room, I know I won’t have to look far to find him.
“You do look really pretty,” Bianca says from over by the counter.
“Too pretty,” Annabel, Jonny’s sister-in-law, agrees. She’s got a wicked smile on her face, and I feel like I’m about to get pranked.
“We got you a present!” Maggie bursts out, beaming. “It’s a sweater!”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “If you ever want to keep a secret, don’t tell this one.” She hands a wrapped box to Maggie, who brings it to me, suddenly shy.
“This is so sweet,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Annabel says. “We had to get creative.”
I take my time peeling back the paper, thinking of little Jonny slowly unwrapping the gifts that meant the most to him.
My cheeks flush, recalling the way he’s been slowly unwrapping me, and I focus back on this thoughtful gift from his sisters.
There’s a white box inside, and I lift the lid to see a royal blue sweater with a felt dreidel sewn on the front.
The Hebrew letters are stitched crookedly in white thread, silver and blue sequins sparkle everywhere, and tiny white pompoms wobble along the collar.
It’s lopsided and messy—and completely perfect.
I’m speechless, flooded with warmth and appreciation for the entire McKay family, who have once again shown me that being different doesn’t mean that I can’t belong.
“I hope it’s okay,” Bianca says, misreading my quiet.
“It’s better than okay,” I tell her, my eyes welling with tears. “It’s perfect, thank you. I really love it.”
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and trade the cashmere sweater my mom sent for Hanukkah with the new one. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The sweater really is ugly, but it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
By the time I return to the kitchen, the cookie decorating has already commenced. I was only gone a few minutes, but there’s already more icing on the kids’ faces than on the actual cookies.
“What’ve you got there?” Isaac says, taking a seat next to Maggie.
“No!” the little girl shouts. “I want Shira to sit next to me!”
“Well, okay, then,” Isaac says, standing back up. He holds his hands out, as if presenting me with the seat. “It seems you’ve captivated all the McKays.”
I flash him a grateful smile before taking the seat next to Maggie. “Looks yummy,” I say, admiring the blue blob of icing on her gingerbread man.
“It’s Cookie Monster,” she says, looking proud of her work of art.
Jonny takes a seat on the other side of me and gives me a quick lay of the land. “Basically, there are no rules,” he says. “But the more sugar, the better, and this crew tends to be more naughty than nice…”
“Got it.” I snap an arm off my first gingerbread man.
Bianca laughs and takes a seat at the table across from me. “Don’t screw this one up, Jonny. We like her.”
“We love her!” Maggie says, giving me a hug that gets icing all over my new sweater. My heart swells with love for this little girl and her whole big, messy family, who have made me—a Jewish girl from Chicago—feel not just welcome but wanted.
The conversation flows as we decorate, bouncing from topic to topic.
One minute they’re arguing over which quarterback got “robbed” at the game last week, and the next they’re gossiping about the mayor and the church deacon who apparently had a shouting match at the grocery store.
I can’t follow all the details, and I still don’t know what a deacon is or what they do, but my sides hurt from laughing.
We take turns presenting our gingerbread cookies.
Mine aren’t the best, but they aren’t the worst, either.
I started by making Captain Hook, then cobbled together Peter Pan and Tinker Bell.
Jonny made a Rabbi with some guidance from me, complete with a kippah on his head and a tallit around his shoulders.
Then, he made Santa Claus wearing a speedo and Mrs. Claus in a bikini.
Bianca made her cookies bikini-clad, too. She used two different cookies to showcase the same “beach babe” from the front and behind. She used the arms of another cookie to give the cookie a bigger butt with a thong, and as Jonny promised, used gumdrops on the other cookie to give her boobs.
Isaac made a bunch of murder victims, using red icing as blood where the arms and legs were broken off. But the most impressive cookie came from Mrs. McKay, who created a whole series of bodybuilders, complete with muscles and hairy chests made from chocolate sprinkles.
Mr. McKay stayed in his recliner near the edge of the kitchen, but the grandkids kept running back and forth to feed him scraps of their discarded cookies.
I breathe it all in: the teasing, the chaos, the easy laughter, the way everyone includes me without a second thought. I’ve never felt this way before, carried in a tide of love I didn’t even know I was missing.
When Jonny’s hand squeezes my thigh under the table, it sends a spark all the way through me.
I look up at him, expecting to see him sending a naughty grin my way.
Instead, his eyes are fond, almost gentle, like he’s just happy I’m here.
I’m happy I’m here, too, and I get the strangest sensation that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
It’s confusing since I also can’t wait to get back home to my friends in Chicago.
If the Hanukkah candles were like birthday ones that you could blow out and make a wish, I would wish that the map could be reorganized, that Chicago could butt up against Azalea so I could somehow go home without leaving here.
After all the cookies have been decorated or devoured, Mrs. McKay pops a few pizzas in the oven. While they cook, she asks if I brought my menorah.
Everyone gathers around, and I let Jake and Maggie help me put the candles in. I light the shamash but hesitate before starting the prayer.
I look around at this beautiful family who opened their home and their hearts to me, who haven’t just shared their holiday tradition with me, but invited me to share mine with them.
“This is the shamash,” I tell them, holding the candle up for them all to see. “It’s the most important candle on the menorah because it’s the one you use to light the others. And I want to thank you all for being a shamash to me. Each one of you has brought me so much light this holiday.”
Jonny steps closer behind me and rests his hand on my shoulder. His presence grounds me, and I light the rest of the candles and recite the blessing. After I reach the end of the prayer and say, “Amen,” Jonny brings his lips to my ear and whispers, “Happy Hanukkah, Shira.”
His words wrap around my heart, and I know he’s thinking of my tears on the first night when I was all alone, the opposite of tonight.
I turn to thank him with a quick kiss, but the emotion shimmering in his eyes stops me. We hold each other’s gaze, and for one beautiful moment, I consider the miracle of Hanukkah and wonder if there’s a way, if there’s a world, where I could hold on to this feeling.
Not just for the month, but for forever.