“No, you snob, not that. It’s weird that it’s just the three of us. This is how it’s going to be next year. Us sending photos to Finn because he’s not here.”
“Shit, you’re right,” Theo says. A silence settles over the table as we process the imminent reconfiguration of our friend group. Suddenly, it feels so much more real.
“Speaking of Finn, have you two figured out what we’re doing for Christmas this year?” Priya asks.
Theo and I both shake our heads.
“I don’t have any ideas,” I say. “I’ve been wracking my brain all week, and nothing feels big enough for Finn’s last Christmas.”
“Wait a second,” Theo says, “The Tour of Italy. Is that what that’s called?” He gestures at my plate with his spoon.
“Yeah, so?” I say as I twirl my fork in the supersized helping of fettuccine alfredo, ready to savor the taste of my suburban childhood.
“What if we did a trip for Christmas? We could actually go to Italy, because I regret to inform you that the food there looks nothing like this.”
“I don’t know . . .” Priya plucks one of Theo’s breadsticks out of its basket.
“It would be something different,” Theo prods.
“I feel like whatever we do has to be in New York, right?” I ask. “Isn’t that the point? Finn’s leaving, so we give him one last New York Christmas?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Theo concedes. “What about Bobby Flay? I met him at a charity gala a few years ago, something about hungry children. He does much better Italian than this. Should I ask if he’d cater?”
“Right,” Priya says, “because Bobby Flay wants to spend Christmas making dinner for four randos instead of with his own family?”
“I think he’s divorced. Maybe he trades off holidays with his ex and it’s not his year. Maybe he’s a bit of a Christmas orphan as well?”
“So, you’re saying we’d be doing him a favor?” I ask.
“Is that a no, then?”
“Oh, I’m totally game,” I say. “I just think we might want a backup plan.”
“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Theo asks, his tone a bit huffy.
I have zero ideas. Nothing feels special enough to top our past Christmases. We need a grand finale, something worthy of the decade of Christmases Finn has given me.
Mid-bite of chicken parm, it hits me. “What if we didn’t need a new idea?” I ask.
Theo looks intrigued. “That would be excellent because all of ours are rubbish. In fact, I think they’re getting worse. What do you have in mind?”
“What if we re-created our first Christmas together?”
The proposal hangs in the air between us as we mull it over.
“Bloody brilliant!” Theo bangs his hand on the table for emphasis. Some soup sloshes onto the paper place mat.
thirteen
Hannah
Christmas #9, 2016
“Finn, thank you!” Priya says, holding up a glittery lilac travel mug.
Finn beams at her reaction. “It keeps your tea warm for five hours.” This is a nod to their tradition of “tea time.” I often come home from work to find Priya and Finn curled up on our couch partaking in their sacred tradition of drinking mugs of actual tea while gossiping about an array of D-list celebrities I’ve never heard of, but they share an outsized knowledge of thanks to their mutual obsession with the celebrity gossip podcast Who? Weekly. At some point the gossip transitions to the minor players in their own lives: Finn’s cubemate, Priya’s nephews, Theo’s doormen. I’ve thought of starting to listen to the podcast just so I could participate in these recaps.
Theo’s living room floor is littered with wrapping paper. Cartoon penguins wearing scarves from Priya, classic brown Kraft paper from Theo (but he went all out on bows), and tiny red station wagons with trees strapped to the top from Finn. In the corner, a ten-foot Christmas tree—this year a silver tree with a disco theme—presides over our gift exchange. Framed photos of each of our last three Christmases have earned a place of pride on Theo’s otherwise austere shelves.
My knee bounces as I wait for my turn. I did so much better.
This year we put a $50 price limit on gifts after Theo got us all iPads last year. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate his gift. In fact, I love mine, especially since I found out the New York Public Library has an app that lets me borrow e-books. But I felt like an idiot when he gave me an iPad and I gave him sweatpants as a joke. I’d never seen him wear anything less formal than jeans and thought he’d be grateful I introduced him to athleisure, but they haven’t made an appearance since. They’re probably buried in a drawer with the tags still on.
Even with the price limit, I’m positive I nailed it. The gift, not the wrapping paper. My wrapping paper blows. It’s a cheesy cartoon Santa motif, the only gift wrap left in stock at Duane Reade at 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve.
Priya rips the last of the paper off the second part of Finn’s gift and shows off a mint-green tin of Fortnum & Mason tea. “Oooh, the Royal Blend,” she announces before taking the lid off and burying her nose in it. She makes that satisfied humming noise people make in Folgers commercials after they have their first sip of coffee.
“Jeremy helped pick it out,” Finn tells her. “He prefers tea, too.”
“Tell Jeremy thank you from me,” Priya says.
Finn whips out his phone to relay the message. By my count, this is the third time Finn’s brought him up this morning. The most positive thing I can say about Jeremy is he exists. He’s the Flat Stanley of boyfriends: good for a picture, doesn’t add much to the conversation. But he’s all Finn can talk about: Jeremy prefers tea to coffee. Did you know Jeremy went to Princeton? Jeremy has a blue sweater just like that. Even facts about Jeremy are boring. But Jeremy’s blandness aside, it’s cute how smitten Finn is.
It’s also, frankly, a relief.
After last Christmas, Finn spent January and February moping about Raj. Even after Raj’s dismissal around Valentine’s Day, Finn’s mood didn’t improve. “Why don’t you tell him now?” I urged once Theo was single.
“I don’t need to hear the words to know. I’ve had as much rejection from Theo as I can take.”
“But he’s never rejected you.”
“Not outright, but tacitly. If he wanted to be together, we’d be together by now.”
“I think you’re being dumb,” I told him, because he was.
Spring was better. After almost a year working at ToonIn, Finn saved enough to move to a studio apartment in the West Village—his first without roommates—declaring it perfect because it’s halfway between me and Priya on the Lower East Side and Theo on the Upper West Side. But Theo spent most of the spring in Paris, consoling his mother after the end of her third marriage, which clocked in at a mere eighteen months. In his absence, Finn downloaded every dating app in the app store and committed to dating like it was a second job and he was gunning for a promotion. Early drinks and a dozen oysters at Mermaid Oyster Bar with one guy and a nightcap at Dante up the street with another.
“No one is looking for anything serious,” Finn complained.