“You didn’t ruin it.” He poked me in the arm. “We’ll just have a mini-Hanukkah celebration with sandwiches or whatever leftovers we have, and some very large sides of applesauce and sour cream.”
His smile was so sweet, his eyes so light, that I couldn’t help laughing a bit as well. And he was right—it was still a nice dinner, once we’d disposed of the disaster-latkes. I even put a bit of applesauce on my turkey and cheese sandwich, and to be honest, it was kind of good.
“See? You didn’t ruin anything,” Gus said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “You’re practically a culinary genius with that applesauce move right there. Gordon Ramsay, watch out.”
“Not sure I’d go that far. But I’m glad you don’t consider the night ruined.”
“I definitely don’t.” Gus cocked his head to the side as he chewed and swallowed. “You said you didn’t want me to be sad, spending the holidays without my family. Don’t you ever miss doing things with yours?”
I looked down at my sandwich, my lips twisting.
“Too pushy?” he asked.
“No. No, not too pushy.” I took a deep breath, reminding myself I was trying to be more open with him. But that still didn’t mean it was easy to talk about old wounds. “It’s just that ever since Aggie died, it’s been hard to think about anything else at this time of year. The anniversary is December 29th and I usually just spend the whole month bracing for the blow.”
“Oh.” Gus nodded. “I can understand that.”
Did he, though? Was it possible for anyone to understand, anyone who wasn’t in my position?
“The first year after she died,” I said slowly, “my mom came for Christmas. She tried so hard to be positive and upbeat, and it just made everything worse. Like she wanted me to forget what had happened, to act like I hadn’t caused the death of someone I loved.”
I looked up from my sandwich to give Gus a quick glance. “I didn’t love her the way you’re supposed to love a girlfriend, but I still cared about her, you know? And the whole time my mom was here, all I could think about was how Barbara, Aggie’s mom, was spending Christmas without her daughter.”
I risked another glance at him, waiting for him to contradict me, or tell me I was being an idiot again. But he just watched me, his eyes moss-green and full of compassion in the dim kitchen light. I had to look away.
“After that, I started paying for my mom to go on vacation over the holidays. She usually visits in the spring now, when the snow’s melted. She’s not really a winter person anyway.”
I shook my head. “The year after that, Hadley invited herself over for Christmas, and it was even worse. She didn’t want to ignore what had happened, she wanted to talk about it. She’s really big on feeling your feelings and shit like that, and we got into a huge fight because she wanted me to ‘get in touch with my centered self’ and ‘practice radical self-love and kindness’ and I wanted her to shut up. We didn’t speak for two months after that visit.” I shrugged. “This time of year really isn’t my strong suit.”
“I can’t believe she tried to make you talk about your feelings,” Gus said incredulously. “She’s known you for years, and I’ve only known you for weeks, but even I know enough to know that would be a non-starter.”
“Right?” I felt strangely vindicated. “I mean, I get that it’s the healthy and normal thing to do, but I think it’s time to admit that the healthy-and-normal ship has sailed for me.”
“So you should just be left alone to brood in your castle and think about your failures as a human being?”
Gus quirked an eyebrow and I shot him a dark look.
“I know you’re making fun of me, but yes, that is exactly what I think.”
He dropped the subject for the rest of the meal, but brought it up again as we were doing dishes later.
“Still, you have to have some kind of traditions that you miss,” he said as I handed him a freshly washed plate to dry. “Even if they’re from when you were really little. Didn’t you say you used to love that winter festival in Birch Bay?”
“I don’t think it exists anymore,” I said, grabbing a new plate to scrub.
“It does.” Gus flashed me a grin. “I looked it up.”