They May Not Mean To, But They Do

16

Freddie could not decide whether or not to go to New York for Christmas. She loved going East for the holidays, it was still a novelty for her, it always would be — the snow, the cold, the lights on Fifth Avenue.

“Everything you hate about it,” she said to Molly, “like the crowds, for instance — I love that. I love being a tourist there.”

“You go to New York and see my father, I’ll stay here and see your father. They won’t know the difference.”

As soon as she said it, Molly wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. It’s so easy to dine out on them. Cheap joke. Why don’t we both stay here this year?”

But Freddie knew that Molly’s family Jewish Christmas was somehow their most important holiday. They celebrated Hanukkah in a haphazard way, lighting candles on the nights they remembered. But Christmas was a time they all got together, all of them, even Molly’s ex-husband and his current wife.

“And Ben will be there,” Freddie said. She had said the magic word, the defining word, the name of the son. She watched Molly’s face grow almost beatific.

“Ben,” Freddie said again, just to see the effect, to see the benignity intensify.

Then Molly caught her at it. “Oh shut up,” she said.

Freddie started to laugh. “The idea of you staying here for the holidays — it’s pretty funny, Molly. Go see your cockamamie family and I’ll stay here and look after my cockamamie father. We will long for each other across the wide continent.”