CHRISTMAS WONDER
After being in a car for hours yesterday and then running errands all day today with Simon, it’s very nice to be curled up on the couch in Simon’s house in Brookline. My house. I have to start saying that. This is my house, too. The ride I got from Esben and Kerry took absolutely forever, because it was snowing and the roads were a mess. Simon texted me every fifteen minutes to make sure that I wasn’t dead, but I understand that he was nervous, especially once he found out that Esben’s car is not exactly new, nor equipped with all the safety features Simon would like. Even though the drive was a long one, I had fun with Esben and Kerry, and I’d been so looking forward to seeing Simon.
Our shopping trips today included filling two carts at the supermarket, because Simon has gourmet meals and plenty of baking planned. He’s promised to teach me some basics, and I’m just hoping to learn to make something edible. Then he took me to the mall and insisted on buying me new clothes, including a few special outfits for Christmas and New Year’s. Not only did I not protest, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being treated to such nice things, and I enjoyed being with him. And I particularly enjoyed sneaking off and buying him a reindeer statue that he’d been admiring but didn’t buy for himself. His look of delight when I gave it to him made me smile, because I knew he would add this to his collection of holiday decorations that had taken over the house.
The constant Christmas music that played over the mall speakers didn’t bother me, the bustling crowds didn’t make me insane, and the peppermint hot chocolate we tried that tasted like liquid holiday didn’t conjure up childhood trauma. All new and welcome experiences. Simon did try very hard to get me to take my picture with Santa, but I drew the line there.
Right now, I am wrapped in a mahogany-colored chenille throw in the plush living room, while Simon swears in a most colorful manner as he tries to unknot strings of lights for the tree. Even though I know she’s unreachable, I text a selfie of me pouting to Steffi, because she’s not here, and then a picture of a frustrated-but-amusing Simon. Damn cruises and their unreliable Wi-Fi! This spell where we can’t talk or text is killing me, but I am happy for her high-seas dating adventure.
“Would you please let me help?” I have repeatedly offered to assist in this monstrous light-detangling task, but Simon keeps insisting I sit here with my cocoa and relax. “And I feel bad that you waited for me to decorate the tree. It’s already December nineteenth!”
“Of course I waited for you, silly. And I should have just bought some new lights while we were out today. But, at this point, I am in a battle that I have to win on my own.” Furiously, he shakes the bundle in his hands, and, suddenly, the tight ball comes apart. “Huh. That was weird.” He looks at me. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”
Playfully, I stick out my tongue at him. “It is not.”
“You being in the holiday spirit brought Christmas luck, then. How’s that?” The Santa hat he’s got on, paired with his bright-green shirt and red tie, is ridiculous in the most wonderful way. “Speaking of which, it’s nice to see you so happy about the holidays this year. Esben have anything to do with that?” he asks with a smile.
“Maybe,” I admit. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend, though. He’s made me see how much good is actually out there. How to move on from my past, I guess.” I pull the blanket around me more tightly. “I was kind of stuck there.”
“I know you were. It’s understandable. You’ve had a rough go of it.”
I watch him undo one of the last knots. “I’m sorry, Simon.”
He stops and looks up. “For what?”
“For not . . . for not being better.”
“Better? Better at what?”
“For not being a better daughter.”
He drops the lights and sits next to me on the couch. “Allison, don’t ever say that again.”
“Do you ever regret adopting me? Your boyfriend left you because of me. He wanted to adopt a cute little baby, not some pissy teenager.” Then I ask him something that I have never asked him before. “How did you even know about me? One day, I just heard that there was a potential adoptive father who wanted to meet me. Then you and I talked for an hour—I was probably boring and miserable to be around—but then I was told that you wanted me. I’ve never understood why.”
“Oh, Allison. Honey . . .” He waves a hand. “First off, Jacob was an ass. I’d probably known that for a while, but it was one of those relationships . . . you know, the ones you get trapped in and stupidly don’t bother to get out of? So, I’m glad he left. Best thing to happen to me, next to you.” He smiles warmly. “Listen, yes, the plan was that we were going to adopt a baby, but there was this wall of pictures at the adoption office—tons of them—all kids who were in need of families.”
“Like old-timey wanted posters in a sheriff’s office.” I pull the blanket in tighter. “Only we were unwanted posters.”
Simon nods. “Yes, actually. That’s how it felt. So totally unfair and upsetting. Anyway, I was looking at the pictures, and I had a few thoughts. The first was that I was horribly naive about how many older kids were in foster care. And the second, stronger thought, was that one of these kids belonged with me. You. It was only then that I realized I wasn’t someone who needed an infant. It wasn’t important to me to make bottles or see first steps or hear first words. Kindergarten, grade school . . .” He leans back and crosses his legs. “I didn’t need to do any of that. I wanted to be a father, but being a father is about a lifetime of parenting, not just little-kid stuff.”
I hang my head and play with the fringe on the blanket. “My picture was there?”
“It was,” he says. “Every picture had some basics about the kids, including how long they’d been in foster care. When I got to yours, I read that you’d been in the system for over sixteen years. I also read that you loved to read, that you were a great student. I don’t know, a few other things. It wasn’t so much the facts about you as it was . . .” He thinks for a moment. “It was about how I felt when I saw your picture. One of those things you can’t explain. I just felt a connection, and I knew right then that I wanted to be your father. I stood in that hall with your picture for so long that Jacob eventually came looking for me.”
I look at him now. “And he hated the idea.”
“He did. And so I hated him.” Simon says this defiantly and then smiles.