Oh my God, not with Beatrice sitting here! Clara screamed inside.
“—this stuffing. This is the best stuffing I’ve ever tasted,” Evan said. “Oysters in stuffing.” He turned to Beatrice, who was giggling. “Who’d of thunk it?”
Beatrice laughed and threw her hands up in the air.
“I know!” she squealed. “It’s divine. Positively divine!” And she looked over at her older sister. “Clara, are you okay?”
All of the color in Clara’s face had drained, leaving her whiter than a ghost sitting at the table. She expelled the air she had been holding and managed a smile.
“Just fine,” she said, feeling the heat crawl up her neck. In a moment, she would be blushing, and she wondered why her face couldn’t be a normal fucking color when Evan was around.
Evan grinned at her as though he knew why she had gone white. It nettled her, and she looked down at her plate.
“Oysters in stuffing is a Baltimore thing,” she said, trying to sound knowledgeable about something she didn’t know.
“No it’s not,” Evan replied. “My mom doesn’t put oysters in our stuffing.”
“Well, that’s your mom,” Clara said airily. And then she felt the pinch in her heart at the sound of the word “mom.” Maybe oysters in stuffing wasn’t a Baltimore thing. Maybe it was something her mom did. It was her mom.
“Either way, it’s amazing, and now I’m stuffed,” Evan said. “No pun intended.”
“And you had to ruin it!” Beatrice said. She giggled.
“Huh?” Evan asked.
“You don’t have to point out your pun,” Beatrice explained. “It’s totally lame, and we’re smart enough to get it. You might as well have said, ‘Look look! I made a joke’,” she said in a deep voice trying to sound like a boy.
Evan burst out laughing. “How old are you?”
“I’m still ten. How old are you?” Beatrice asked.
“Still eighteen, and evidently not as smart as you,” Evan replied.
“Well, we’ve compared notes,” Beatrice said thoughtfully. “And you’re right.”
Now Clara burst out laughing. She had no idea when Beatrice learned about puns. She had no idea when her baby sister became smarter than her. But she knew in that moment she’d have it no other way. She’d have Christmas dinner no other way. Her laughter erased the pinch in her heart, the thoughts of her mother, and she decided to commandeer the recipe, take it from the woman who was fast becoming only a memory, and make the oysters her own.
***
Evan stayed late into the night. Beatrice went to bed earlier, exhausted from the constant exhilaration of new presents. There weren’t that many, but they were thoughtful gifts from Clara and Evan that made her happy. Too happy. She couldn’t keep up with the high from her happiness and eventually passed out on the couch. Evan carried her to bed and tucked her in, then joined Clara once more in the living room.
“Did you have a nice Christmas, Clara?” he asked putting his arm around her. She nestled closely, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Mmhmm,” she said lazily. She felt tired and content. “You?”
“Well, any Christmas I get to spend with you is bound to be nice,” Evan replied. He kissed the top of her head. “More than nice.”
“I feel guilty for taking you away from your family this evening,” Clara said softly.
“Why? Our Christmas is usually over by four anyway. I told you that.”
“I know, but still. It was an all-day affair in our house. We spent the entire day together,” Clara said. “Well, before . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Evan kissed her again and rested his cheek on her head.
“Did you really like my cooking?” Clara asked after a moment. She turned her face to nuzzle his neck.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you I was packing you up with me when I go to college? Because I am. You’re going to cook for me while I’m there,” he said.
She giggled into his neck experiencing a sense of security she had not felt for a long time. And then it was over in an instant as a new thought occurred to her.
“Where are you going to college?” she asked.
“I really don’t know,” was his reply. “How about we not worry about that.” He didn’t pose it as a question.
She stared into the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, dotting the back of her eyes and confusing her focus. Everything turned yellow, a disorienting glow, and her vision blurred.
“You’re going to go away, aren’t you?” she asked, the sob catching in her throat. She cursed silently, unaware that the sob was there until it was too late.
“Clara,” Evan said gently. He tried to pull her away from him to make her look at his face, but she buried her face in his neck, shaking her head back and forth.
He truly didn’t know what his future held, but he knew he wanted her in it. He couldn’t promise her that it wouldn’t be difficult for them, but he thought for now he should lie to her, make her believe that it would be easy. He knew three people who had already left her. Three people who meant the world to her, and while he didn’t dare kid himself that she thought of him that way, he hoped she did. She needed to hear him say it, that he wouldn’t go away. Even if he knew he would.
“I’m not going anywhere, Clara.” He heard the lie slip out of his mouth. It tasted like mild wickedness, a little kind of evil that appears insignificant at the moment, but grows into something monstrous in the future, a great big wrecking ball of betrayal. He thought he should only say such a bad thing on a holiday like Halloween and not Christmas. “Will you look at me?”