by Jane Green
Too easy. And what would we be trading? A fun but volatile friendship for what would have to be a doomed romance. That was the trouble with Isaac and me. We fought all the time, always over silly stuff. The fried Snickers bar episode? It actually caused an entire day of friction, because while we were eating it, Isaac happened to mention that he didn’t like Charles Dickens. (Sacrilege!) Another time we didn’t speak for two weeks after a particularly hard-fought game of Silver Screen Trivial Pursuit. Occasionally the only thing that kept us talking at all was the fact that we had our own apartments to withdraw to for a cooling-off period, like boxers retreating to their corners.
But no matter what, every Christmas for three years we went home together. Isaac is Jewish, but he always takes the Christmas school break to visit his folks. And I had a car, a sputtering old dented Ford that hadn’t seen a hubcap since the week after I moved to Brooklyn. Mostly it existed to keep me panicked about finding parking spaces for it … and to take Isaac and me home.
Last year, however, when the subject of going home came up, I hedged. Isaac and I were at our favorite coffee place, the one equidistant from both our apartments. ‘So what day should we blast off?’ he asked.
‘Hm?’ I lifted my teeny espresso cup to my lips. I like espresso because it gives a sort of absurd illusion of daintiness. Like grown-ups playing with children’s tea sets. ‘You mean, for Christmas?’
‘Sure, what else?’
‘Oh.’
His smile flatlined. ‘You mean you’re not going home this year?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘Well then?’
‘Jason’s driving me down,’ I admitted, guilt-ridden. But why? It wasn’t as if Isaac and I had signed a holiday travel contract that said Wither thou drivest … It was nonsense.
Except, of course, that Isaac was gaping at me as if I had just plunged a dagger into his chest.
After a stunned moment, he lowered his coffee mug onto the waxy tabletop. In an instant, the hurt in those dark eyes changed to challenge. ‘Doesn’t Jason’s car have a backseat?’
‘It’s a fairly small car. A two-door Saab convertible.’ I sighed. ‘Anyway, you can’t expect me to ask my boyfriend, my brand-spanking-new boyfriend, to take passengers …’
‘Why not?’
I wasn’t going anywhere near that question. Jason had only met Isaac in passing, and the two had not seemed that impressed with each other. Naturally. Isaac was Jason’s polar opposite. Whereas Jason represented an up-by-his-bootstraps go-getter, Isaac was a coaster. Jason lived to get ahead, and it showed in everything he did – the well-reviewed restaurants he chose, the conservative suits he wore, the long hours he logged at the office. Isaac didn’t give a hoot what people thought of him. He wore the same cords and baggy sweaters whether he was at work or at home. I bet he even wore them on dates (yet another reason we would never fall in love). Jason was one of those guys who try to turn every conversation into a positive gain. Isaac and I spent half our time arguing – over politics, or whether we would rather vacation in Thailand or Italy (not that either of us had money to go to either place), or the latest celebrity trial, or what should happen in the next episode of Desperate Housewives.
In other words, Isaac was exactly like me. Eerily like me. (Only frequently irritating, which, of course, I never was.) The catch was, I don’t think Jason really realized who I was yet. I was still on my best early date behavior – always carefully made up, with my $200 haircut and clothes fresh from the cleaners. We hadn’t reached the sweatshirt Saturdays stage yet. We never argued. Our relationship was still a fragile thing, to be coddled and tended like a baby chick.
I wanted to give this relationship my best shot – which entailed showing Jason off to my perfect family and seducing him with a knockout blend of holiday wholesomeness and hoarded lingerie. My best shot did not include Jason being stuck in a car with Isaac and me, bickering.
Isaac tapped his fingers against his mug with impatience.
Each tap hit me like a pinprick of guilt. ‘Do I ever make you take me along on your dates?’ I asked.
‘That’s a false comparison. A drive home isn’t a date.’
‘The whole weekend will be sort of an extended date,’ I argued. ‘And the drive home is key. It’s the beginning. I don’t want anything to spoil the mood.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ he said. ‘I thought I was your friend, but now I learn I’m a mood spoiler.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Though, truthfully, I suppose it was. Isaac could be so emotional, so exasperating. He would back me into a corner like this, forcing me to say things that were better left unspoken. Then he would act wounded. ‘Anyway, the car will be filled with packages …’
His head snapped up as if he’d just discovered a fatal chink in my argument. ‘It doesn’t have a trunk?’
‘A small one. It’s a Saab.’
He smirked. ‘I believe you dropped that brand name once in this conversation already.’
I was ready to bash him over the skull with the sugar dispenser. ‘I really want this to work out, Isaac. Really.’
He looked flabbergasted. ‘What – you think I would stand in the way of your happiness?’
‘No …’ Not purposefully, at least. ‘I just was imagining something more cozy.’
‘You wouldn’t even know I was there, I swear.’
Right. ‘No.’
‘Please?’
‘What is the big deal?’ I asked. ‘There are other ways to get to Virginia. Planes, for instance. Planes are quick.’
‘And expensive.’
I couldn’t argue with that. But I still wasn’t going to give in.
His body twisted into a curve and his face became an extravagant pout. ‘So you’re sloughing me off for Little Orphan Jason.’
‘I’m not sloughing you off.’
‘Breaking with time-honored tradition at the first sign of a heartthrob.’
‘Well … wouldn’t you?’
He arched a brow at me. But note that he did not contradict me. ‘Does Jason know you’re a heartless bitch? Does he know that you’re the type of woman who would leave her lonely Jewish friend stranded on Christmas? Does he?’
I suddenly had an idea. I should have thought of it before. ‘Look, why don’t you take my car?’
Isaac recoiled, almost as if I had slapped him.
I couldn’t believe it. I was offering him my own car and he looked offended. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘You must really not want me along.’
‘Isaac …’
‘Listen, wouldn’t you rather have someone with you, in case things don’t go so great? What if you and Jason have nothing to talk about for three hours?’
‘You think I’ll be struck dumb?’
‘You should just think of me as your personal cruise director. I’ll be in the backseat, jollying you two along, making sure the ride goes smoothly.’
I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. I still wasn’t convinced this was wise. And I doubted Jason would be thrilled at the idea of a backseat chaperone.
‘Just ask him,’ Isaac said. ‘Didn’t you say you were going to see him tomorrow?’
I bit my lip. ‘We’re going shopping.’
‘You already went shopping. What is this, round two?’
‘We have something specific in mind this time.’
His face went slack. And pale. ‘Oh my god. Is there something you haven’t told me? Is he buying you a ring?’
My cheeks heated up. I shouldn’t have said anything. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘Well then, what?’
‘It’s nothing.’
No way Isaac was letting this one go now. ‘How can it be nothing? It’s got to be something. Jewelry …’
‘I said, it’s nothing like that.’
‘Tropical fruit-flavored condoms?’
If only. ‘For heaven’s sake. We’re just going to look for matching sweaters to wear at home.’
Isaac nea
rly fell out of his chair. ‘After all the times I’ve heard you rant about that sister of yours and her boyfriends doing dorky things like that!’
‘It’s not dorky; it’s cute.’
He leveled a disbelieving look on me.
‘Okay, it is dorky,’ I admitted. ‘But that’s why I want to do it.’
‘To rub Maddie’s face in your good fortune?’
Exactly.
‘She probably won’t even notice,’ I said. ‘You know how wrapped in herself and her own guys she gets.’
He snorted. ‘Her fiancés.’
My sister always called these men she brought home her fiancés. I could never be certain whether this was for the sake of my parents – who might feel more comfortable with their youngest dragging strange men home if she were engaged to them – or whether men actually tended to propose to her in time for the holidays, only to be shed later like an old winter coat.
Isaac was always curious about Maddie. I half expected that he was just waiting for the day when she showed up for Christmas alone so he could sweep her off her feet himself.
‘Okay,’ he said, circling back to topic A. ‘So when you’re shopping, that would be the perfect time to ask Jason if he’s interested in a threesome.’
I crossed my arms.
He grinned. ‘I kid. A threesome in his car, I meant.’
I didn’t respond.
‘Please? ’
If you could have seen those eyes. They were like Saint Bernard eyes staring up at me. Expectant. Needy. I remembered suddenly that Isaac hadn’t been having such a great time lately. He had broken up with his last girlfriend, Helen, about the same time I met Jason. Even though Helen hadn’t seemed like all that great a catch to me, and I think they had only gone out for two months, tops, I didn’t need any reminding how long and lonely the Thanksgiving–New Year’s stretch could seem when you were dateless. And because of Jason, I hadn’t been spending as much time with Isaac as I usually did.
And here I was being … well, selfish. He was right about that. What kind of friend was I?
In any case, I was helpless against the raw pleading in those eyes. ‘Okay. I’ll ask.’
Jason couldn’t have been more thrilled. ‘Sure, why not?’ he responded immediately to my question, which I had managed to choke out only after a belabored preamble of hemming and hawing. He didn’t show a moment’s hesitation. ‘The more the merrier!’
This is why I love you, I was tempted to say. Jason was all gung-ho eagerness. He even made me feel eager, now. And perhaps a little foolish. Isaac was my best bud, and such fun – when he wasn’t trying my considerable patience. Having him along would just add to the festivity. And he and Jason would get to know each other better. They might even become friends!
What the heck had I been worrying about?
Chapter Two
You won’t even know I’m there, he’d said. Ha.
‘Where am I supposed to sit?’ was the first question out of Isaac’s mouth.
Heroically, I restrained myself from doing the man bodily harm. He had a lot of crust whining first thing, when he had begged me to wrangle this invitation for him.
‘You’ve got the whole backseat,’ I pointed out.
Jason had double-parked the Saab on Henry Street, and the three of us were now huddled in the freezing cold on the sidewalk. Isaac, whose weekender bag sagged against his knees, looked as if he were going to refuse to get into the car.
‘How can you say I have the whole backseat?’ he asked. ‘It’s full of junk.’
I thought we had left it empty. I peered into the backseat through the small passenger window. No, I wasn’t dreaming. All that was there were a lone Tupperware dome and a small paper bag. ‘All you have to do is share the seat with a bundt cake.’
‘And what’s in that other bag?’
‘Champagne,’ I said.
‘What are you taking champagne home for? We’ll be back by New Year’s.’
‘Just because.’ Even though it was a pathetic answer, I thought I was doing an admirable job of keeping my cool. Actually, I had drained what little was left of my bank account and poured it into a bottle of good vintage Dom Perignon, hoping to impress Jason if we ever had reason to engage in an intimate toast.
‘But what about my suitcase?’ Isaac asked.
‘Put it on the seat between you and the cake,’ I said.
‘Or set the cake cover on top of the bag,’ Jason put in.
Isaac and I wheeled on him as if he’d lost his mind.
‘The cake might fall off!’ I said.
‘And get goo on my luggage,’ Isaac added.
Jason shrank back a little, as if to indicate that he had learned his lesson and would no longer make reasonable suggestions.
I propped my mittened hands on my hips and turned back on Isaac. ‘It’s a pound cake. There is no goo.’
‘It’s full of butter. It could leave a grease stain.’
‘No, it couldn’t,’ I argued. ‘That cake cover is airtight.’
He didn’t look convinced. He probably didn’t even know genuine Tupperware when he saw it.
Jason bravely stepped into the fray again. ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He reached deftly into the backseat for the cake and the champagne. ‘I seem to remember a little corner of the trunk we haven’t used …’
He was lying. But he went to the back of the car and gamely started rearranging things. Isaac smiled at me; I glared back.
‘I brought music,’ he said.
‘So did I,’ I said, trying to head him off at the pass.
Isaac and I didn’t always agree on music. His taste was more eclectic than mine, and he leaned heavily toward world music. Even if we were just listening to the radio, he’d want to have it tuned to the Latino station. ‘Everything else is pop swill,’ he had told me once.
‘This is pop swill, too,’ I had pointed out, ‘only in Spanish.’
‘That’s okay. I don’t speak Spanish.’
Which is Isaac all over. He pretends to be Mr Reasonable, Mr I Have a Master’s in Chemistry, and then he’ll come out with something like that.
‘I brought Christmas music,’ I said. ‘You know – Bing Crosby – to get us in the mood.’
‘Me, too.’
I darted a skeptical look at him. ‘Let me see.’
He pulled two CDs out of his jacket and handed them to me.
‘Oy to the World? ’ I asked, my voice looping up with horror. ‘The Bonanza Christmas Album? ’
‘That last is a rarity,’ Isaac said. ‘I burned the CD myself especially for this trip.’
Jason slammed the trunk and came around the side of the car. He laughed when he looked at one of the CD covers, a cartoon Santa dancing around with a menorah. ‘That’s great!’ he said. ‘Let’s give them a listen.’
In other words, bye-bye, Bing.
Isaac grinned at me before he tossed his bag into the backseat and then slid in after it. Then Jason and I got into the front and buckled ourselves in. ‘Would you mind moving your seat up?’ Isaac asked me. ‘Not a lot of legroom back here.’
‘Sure thing.’ I fumbled under the seat for the control and then managed to slide my knees right into the glove compartment. The resulting crunch of kneecap against molded plastic made me wince in pain.
‘Thanks!’ Isaac chirped behind me.
The stereo blared out a Klezmer version of ‘Winter Wonderland.’
‘Hey, this is great!’ Jason said, tossing an approving look into the rearview at Isaac. Isaac leaned forward, inserting his head between the bucket seats. There he remained as we hopped onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway to head out of town.
‘Okay,’ Isaac announced, ‘let’s talk about the one that got away.’
He was obviously taking his promise to serve as cruise director for the trip very seriously. Give him a few hours and he would probably break out the Mad Libs. Which would be preferable, frankly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hold a public airing of my romantic
disappointments just now. Especially since romantic disappointment was precisely what this trip was meant to stave off.
Isaac looked into my eyes and laughed silently. ‘I’m talking about presents. What birthday or Christmas or’ – he lifted a hand – ‘in my case, I will include Hanukkah – gift did you ever really want and not get?’
‘Oh!’ I loved games like this. ‘That’s easy. Twice I asked for an Easy-Bake Oven. Which is basically just a toaster oven with its own little mini cake pans and boxes of cake mix.’
‘What happened?’ Isaac asked.
‘Mom said I didn’t need a tiny oven because we already had a big oven in the kitchen I could use. She said if I wanted to make a cake so much, I should just ask her and she’d help me.’
Jason smiled. ‘That’s nice. She wanted to make it a shared activity.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t want to make a cake with my mom,’ I said. ‘I wanted to make little tiny ones with my friends, like in the commercials.’
‘Scarred for life!’ Isaac said, approving my answer.
‘I was actually okay until a few years later, when Maddie asked for an Easy-Bake Oven and got one. And she only had to ask once! That was what really left me embittered.’
‘And I bet she never used it,’ Isaac said.
I shook my head. ‘Oh, no, she used it all the time. She would invite her little squeaky-voiced friends over and have tea parties on Saturday afternoons. I would have to listen to them through my bedroom wall.’
They laughed. ‘What was the one that got away for you?’ Jason asked Isaac.
‘When I was ten, I saw an old Edgar Bergen movie on the television one Saturday afternoon, and I just became obsessed. I had to get a ventriloquist dummy. I had this crush on a girl who I was too scared to talk to, but I thought that if I had a ventriloquist dummy, I would be able to wow her with my wit and skill. So I found one in the Sears catalog – it was a Charlie McCarthy replica – and I asked my parents for it for my birthday.’
‘And you didn’t get it,’ I guessed, since disappointment was pretty much the name of the game.
He shook his head. ‘I thought maybe they just didn’t understand that I really needed a ventriloquist dummy. So I sat them down and explained to them that I really believed my future was in show business, as a ventriloquist. I thought they understood. So when Hanukkah rolled around, I agonized every day, wondering if this was the night when I would finally receive the gift that would start me on my real life as a ventriloquist and great lover. But then the first night, I got a pair of socks. And then the next night, I got a Play-Doh Super Set, which I was entirely too old for anyway. For eight days and eight nights I suffered through the spasms of disappointment, until I realized that I was just going to have to save my allowance money and send off for the dummy and buy it myself.’