The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,66
funny. But even I notice that Izzy’s hair looks pretty greasy and she doesn’t smell great, either.
“I’ll do it before dinner.” She sighs, and I can’t get over how much she seems not herself with John away. It’s strange and also slightly disturbing.
“It’s only one week,” I remind her. “Four days left, Iz.” But John doesn’t have cell service or access to Wi-Fi in Mexico and they can’t even text or FaceTime, and Izzy has already used the word unbearable multiple times today.
I would never tell Izzy, but I’m actually kind of glad that John is gone, and that the Knightleys can’t come over here, either—that Dad and I get Izzy all to ourselves for once. Because Christmas feels like it used to be when we were younger. Izzy does shower after I mention it to her, and puts on clean sweats. Then we play Ping-Pong in the basement, eat all the cookies I baked yesterday and we bake more together. Izzy does a reread of her favorite books every year over Christmas break, and in the afternoon she reads Pride and Prejudice on the couch while I practice my Rachmaninoff on the piano, and Dad reads through the New York Times on the love seat.
We decide to do our Thanksgiving pie contest for Christmas dinner—I try something totally new, a red velvet cheesecake, and Izzy goes all out with a candy cane pudding pie. Dad picks hers as the winner, but I’m happy to see he limits himself to only having a tiny sliver of each to try and stay on his diet. And even I have to admit, Izzy’s pie is pretty amazing.
“Victory at long last!” She pumps her fist after Christmas dinner when Dad declares her the official winner of the first annual Christmas pie contest. Her face is more relaxed, and her hair is clean, and she seems vaguely like her normal self.
I laugh. “I’ll get you next year, Iz.” I suddenly remember again that next year at this time I’ll be home from college, too, that poor Dad will have just spent the whole fall all alone. That thought makes me infinitely sad, so I push it away for now.
After dinner, Dad goes into the family room to start a fire, but Izzy and I stay at the table for a while, eating the pies with our forks straight from the tins, until we’re both so full we can barely move.
We stumble to the living room, and Dad stokes his fire, and Izzy cues up It’s a Wonderful Life, her favorite Christmas movie, and one that always bores me with its impracticality, so I know I’m about to take a nap, which I’m perfectly okay with.
Izzy lays on one end of the couch; I lay on the other, our feet touching in the middle. Dad throws a big plaid blanket over us, and smiles. “Is there anything better than this?” he says. “Both my girls at home on Christmas, watching a movie with me.”
And for a little while, everything and everyone else feels very far away.
* * *
The Knightleys fly home on New Year’s Eve day, and Izzy and John already made plans to go out tonight, even before he left for Cancun. This is Dad’s last week home before going back to work, and he’s been cooking and freezing healthy food all week. Today he’s working on a huge pot of his famous chili, only now he’s doing it all vegetarian, which works way better for me, anyway, since I’d never eat the other version of the recipe he made with beef.
“Em,” he says. “Izzy’s going out. But you should invite some friends over to have dinner with us tonight. I made way too much. Even for freezing. We’ll be eating chili for a month.”
Dad probably assumes anyone I’d invite won’t have New Year’s plans, like all Izzy’s friends do. But he’s assuming right. Jane and Hannah both have already been texting me this week that they’re bored. I text them to invite them for chili, and they both text back they’ll be right over.
Jane arrives twenty minutes later in a pair of plaid lounge pants and a sweatshirt, her hair piled up messy on her head. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in person without her lab coat, and that makes me happy. School Jane is apparently on break, too. “Can I sleep over?” Jane asks when she walks in. “My mom doesn’t want me driving home super late. Too many drunk