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They’ve been dating for two weeks when Tim broaches the topic for the first time. He’s sitting across from Lucy at a plastic table outside their favorite food truck, and he’s holding her hand while they wait for their orders to be called.
“So, what are your plans for next week?”
“Hmm?” Lucy reveals that she hasn’t been listening, just looking at him, and he feels like he’s in high school again. His first girlfriend, hours spent just staring at each other.
He’d thought those days were behind him. He’s glad to find that they’re not.
“Next week? Christmas? Do you have plans?”
“Oh, yeah. I usually go to my parents’ for the day. Breakfast, dinner, presents, the whole thing. You?”
“I don’t ‘usually’ do anything.” Tim tries to hide the twinge in his jaw, but Lucy must see it, because she squeezes his fingers gently. “But this year I told my sister I’d come over, help her navigate the first Christmas on her own.”
“That’s sweet,” Lucy says, though he can tell that she’s noticed their plans don’t intersect.
“We’ll find time.” This is exactly why he’d wanted to bring it up. When he’d promised Genny his company on Christmas, he hadn’t figured there would be anyone else in the picture for the holidays. And besides, three weeks of dating is a little rushed to be bringing someone to Christmas dinner, he thinks, even if they’ve known each other a couple years at this point. “Maybe the 27th? I think we’re both off that day.”
Lucy nods. “Yeah, that works. I wouldn’t want to subject you to my parents all day, anyway.”
“I’d do it,” Tim says. He would, in a heartbeat, if she asked.
“I know. But let’s save my dad’s interrogation for Easter, maybe.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Tim wakes up alone on Christmas morning, just like he has the last handful of years. Except this year, the other side of the sheets feels cold, there’s a dog pushed up against his side, and there’s a text waiting for him before he’s even made it out of bed.
Just a handful of nights, and he’s already used to waking up next to her.
Good morning! Merry Christmas! Hug Genny and the kids for me xx
He scratches his hand along Kojo’s back, feeling his leg jitter against Tim’s hip. On a whim, he swipes to the camera app and lifts his phone up. He makes sure Kojo fills the bulk of the screen, but his own face is in the corner. He smiles, taps the shutter and sends the picture to Lucy
He cooks scrambled eggs, making quick work of a sturdy breakfast. Genny has promised fresh donuts for Christmas morning, but he wants something substantial underneath the sugar. Kojo gets a short walk, he fits a box of packages into the truck, and he’s covering the short distance to Genny’s new house.
As soon as he walks in the door, he’s got a pair of nephews hanging off of him – literally. Camden grabs him by the arm and drags him into the living room while Tyler follows close behind.
Right away, he wants to text Lucy and tell her about it. She loves to hear about the kids; he can picture the way her face always softens when he talks about the time he gets to spend with them now. But it’s only been two hours since he sent the picture of Kojo. Lucy hasn’t replied, other than a series of red and green heart emojis, and he doesn’t want to interrupt her family’s plans.
All day, he wants to text Lucy. Tyler unwraps the book Lucy had helped him pick out, and he wants to tell her how excited he is. Camden tears a packet of hot cocoa open too quickly, and he’s itching to send her a picture of the kid covered in a fine dusting of brown powder, making a silly face.
Genny brings out a platter of lopsided sugar cookies, hand-decorated, with way too many sprinkles for the frosting, and he knows she’d love them. No matter how sweet, no matter how crunchy, he knows Lucy would help clear the plate, if only to see the joy in his nephews’ eyes when he compliments their baking skills.
(They’re delicious cookies, even if the shapes are a little distorted from the oven. He wants to tell her that they taste just as good as they look.)
It’s one thing after another. Every present, every activity, every goofy Christmas dance and matching PJ set, he wants to share it with her.
Camden hits a sugar crash a little bit after lunchtime, and curls himself against Tim’s side on the couch. When he climbs up, he drops a picture book in his uncle’s lap. Tim takes the hint, opening it up and reading from the first page.
He wants Lucy to hear it too, longs to put her on speakerphone and let her listen to the story of an outlandish penguin trying to fit in with his penguin friends.
The kid falls asleep in his lap, too old for a nap but young enough that he passes out in the middle of the afternoon after an exciting morning. Genny takes a handful of pictures, and Tim has his own phone unlocked before he realizes what he’s doing.
He stops short of asking Genny to take one on his phone too, locks the device without opening the camera or his texts. There’s no notification bubble anyway, so he knows there’s not a message waiting.
Tyler brings him a video game controller, and he holds his own through a couple of rounds, even with one arm falling asleep.
He can’t explain why, but he can’t shake the feeling that Lucy needs to hear about it.
He’ll tell her later. The mental list of moments he wants to recount is getting longer and longer. He wants to start right now, maybe with a recap of the gifts the boys had given him.
They’ll see each other in a couple of days, though. For right now, he tries to refocus himself on the kids around him and his little sister in the other room.
His little sister, in the other room, calling his name.
“Tim! Come help set the table for dinner!” It’s an order, not an offer, no matter how affectionate her voice sounds. Camden stirs when he stands up, and his brother immediately ropes him into taking Tim’s place on the PlayStation.
Tim sets the plates out, colorful paper rounds with blue and white stripes. The napkins have snowmen on them, and the cutlery is red and green. None of it matches anything else, but somehow it all works perfectly.
Lucy would love it.
He unlocks his phone again, but Genny comes in from the kitchen before he can take a picture. As soon as she’s in the doorway, he’s locking the device and cramming it into his pocket, like she’s caught him with a dirty magazine or something.
“You can text her first, you know,” Genny says, setting a serving dish on the table.
“What?”
“Whoever it is, you can text her first. The three-day rule, or whatever it is these days? That’s crap. You can just text her.”
“Text who?”
“I don’t know. You haven’t said.” Genny rolls her eyes. “But I’ve seen you check your phone a million times today. And I’ve seen you the last few months. Whover you want to hear from, she’s making you happier than I’ve seen you since …" She pauses. “Well, it’s been a long time. Do something with that. Text her.”
It has been a long time. Genny didn’t need to say that for Tim to know that it’s true. It’s been years, over a decade now, since he’s felt this strongly about someone who wasn’t automatically included in his family plans. He never had to miss Isabel on Christmas – in the early years, anyway – because the invitation was always extended to them both. By the time she stopped coming around at the holidays, Tim was worried about much bigger things.
And that’s terrifying now, isn’t it? How it’s been three weeks since he took her out for their first real dinner together, and now he’s champing at the bit to hear from her after less than a day? They haven’t even told people they’re dating yet, and he can hardly go 20 minutes without thinking about her.
So Tim plays the safe card and demurs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not waiting to hear from anyone.” He’s not, really. He’s not waiting to hear from Lucy; he just wants her to know she’s on his mind today. “And even if I were, it’s not like that. I’ve known Lucy long enough to—”
“Lucy?” Genny interrupts him. “Like … your last rookie, Lucy? Lucy, the only rookie you’ve ever introduced me to? You brought her home, Tim. Text her.”
“We said we wouldn’t …" He trails off, running his thumb along the top of his phone in his pocket.
“Women say things we don’t mean all the time.” Genny waves her hand through the air, wiping away his excuses. “’I don’t want anything for my birthday, really.’ ‘No, I don’t care if you have a fourth poker night this week while I take care of our kids.’ ‘Let’s not talk on Christmas.’” Something about the way she rattles the examples off, Tim knows she’s talking about her own marriage as much as she is his dating life. She hasn’t said much about what happened with Rob, but every so often something comes out and reminds Tim why his sister is back in California. He doesn’t get to dwell on it though, because Genny is still talking. “If I were a betting woman, I’d put money down that she’s waiting to hear from you too.”
Lucy sits at her parents’ dining room table, in the same old wooden chair where she’d struggled with times tables in third grade, written countless scholarship applications in high school, and listened to her parents try to talk her out of almost every decision she’s ever made for herself.
Today is no different than any other time she’s sat here as an adult. She’d hardly walked in the door when her mother started talking about some “nice young man” whose aunt is in her church group.
“He’s around your age, sweetheart. And finishing up medical school. Isn’t that something? A doctor.” She says ‘doctor’ like it’s the only career worth having, and Lucy barely manages to school her expression.
“I’m not looking for anyone to date right now, Mom.”
“You’re not getting any younger, Lucy.” Her dad wraps his hands around the back of the chair, his presence looming behind her. “It’s time to think about settling down with someone.”
She is. Three weeks in, and every vision she’d had for her future has expanded to include him.
But there are half a dozen reasons why she can’t tell her parents all that. Starting with that it’s only been three weeks and ending with the part where Tim has the same career she does, the same career her parents have never been excited to support.
So she sinks down in her seat, makes herself smaller like that will lessen the sting of the words, and thinks again about the phone tucked away in her purse.
It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak it out when her parents aren’t looking. She could take it to the bathroom with her, maybe, and have a little privacy to text Tim.
Tim would know what to say. Even if he couldn’t fix the rifts between her and her parents, he’d know how to make her feel better about the offhand comments that cut like knives.
Her parents have moved on now, her mother back to the pots and pans sizzling on the stove and her dad to whatever journal article he’s reviewing this week.
She takes the opportunity to slide her phone up to rest on her thigh. She opens her messages, clicks her way over to the text she’d gotten from Tim early in the morning.
He’s still in bed, Kojo snuggled up next to him. She can tell that he’s tried to crop himself out of the shot, but he’s still smiling.
And he’s not wearing a shirt. Not that she’s looking, but there’s a strip of bare skin running down one side of the image, a handful of freckles she’s mapped with her fingers and with her tongue. No matter what thoughts the picture evokes, it’s not a sexy picture.
It’s soft, warm and domestic, and somehow better than the thirst traps she’s gotten from guys in the past.
Merry Christmas from your two best guys, he’d written for the caption. Enjoy your celebrations. We’re thinking of you over here.
Then, in a message all by itself, he’d sent a snowman emoji. He hardly ever uses them, so the little cartoon alone is enough to make Lucy’s heart soar.
There’s nothing she wants more than to text him again now, tell him even one of the things her parents have said. She wants him to comfort her, or distract her, or make some sarcastic remark that reminds her that she’s making decisions for her life, not her parents’. If she thinks hard enough, she can almost hear him in the back of her head, saying exactly that.
But she really wants to hear it directly from Tim.
Except that she knows how excited he is to celebrate with his sister and nephews. And she doesn’t want to sour that time with her complaints.
So she looks at the picture again and smiles, then slides her phone back into her bag.
For now, his presence on her screen can be enough.
Tim pushes his plate away from the edge of the table and leans back.
“That was fantastic, Gen.”
“Yeah, Mom! I loved the green beans!” Tyler grins, showing off the gap where he’d lost an incisor the week before.
“I’m just glad you ate a vegetable today, bud.”
“Me too, Mommy!” Camden opens his mouth, showing off his half-chewed food, and giggles when Gen scolds him.
“Cam, listen to your mom.” It’s a gentler version of the voice he uses on suspects, no-nonsense and without room for argument. Camden’s jaw clicks shut, and he swallows audibly.
“Sorry, Uncle Tim.”
“I’m not the one who told you to cut it out.”
“Sorry, Mommy.”
“Thank you,” Genny nods at her son and her brother. “Remember to chew with your mouth closed.”
He wants to tell Lucy about how the same tone works on criminals, rowdy dogs and unruly children all alike.
Instead, he settles into his chair and watches the boys finish picking at their plates.
Genny brings out dessert when everyone is finished, a black forest cake from a local bakery. As if they haven’t been grazing on cookies and fudge all day. She unwraps another pack of paper plates, whispering to Tim that she doesn’t miss her mother-in-law's good china, when this way she doesn’t have to do dishes all evening.
“Alright, before we have cake, let’s all take a picture with Uncle Tim!” Genny announces. The boys bounce out of their seats and squish up next to him. Genny pulls at his phone where it’s sticking out of his jeans pocket, opening the camera before he can protest. “Smile!”
He does, and they take a series of snapshots. Tyler shouts that they need to take a goofy one too, so Tim sticks his tongue out and ruffles Camden’s hair. Genny holds a couple fingers up behind his head, and both kids stick their fingers in their mouths, stretching the corners as far as they’ll go and crossing their eyes.
Genny skims through the pictures and hands Tim his phone, then leans in close enough to whisper in his ear.
“Send her the first one. Trust me on this.”
He does. And he does, before he can chicken out on either front.
Lucy’s parents join her at the table for dinner. Their plates are full, and mercifully, so are their mouths – enough so that it’s hard for them to get any more criticism in edgewise.
Then her phone chirps in her bag, loudly enough to be heard at the table.
“Really, Lucy?” Her father asks, while her mother glares at her silently. “During dinner?”
She sneaks a quick peek at her watch screen, and sees that Tim has sent her an image. Still, she knows better than to try and retrieve her phone to see what it is.
“It’s … someone from work,” she says. It’s not a lie, not really, and she’s hoping it might buy her a little leeway. It’s not her fault the LAPD doesn’t respect the sacred Chen Family Christmas Dinner, is it?
But she should have known better than that too.
This time, her mother hums, the disapproval evident in the brief note.
“On your day off? First you choose that … institution … over a more noble career path. Then you choose it over your family? On a holiday?”
“I don’t need to check it,” she argues. “It was just a Merry Christmas message from a friend at work. I’ll reply later.”
“Alright,” her dad replies, but he watches her carefully for a few minutes after, like he doesn’t believe her.
And sure, maybe it’s not the whole truth. But Tim is someone from work, and he did send her a Christmas message this morning.
And she isn’t going to look at the new text now. She doesn’t need to.
Just knowing he reached out is enough.
After dessert, they retire to the living room. Genny turns on a low-budget Christmas movie, something to play as background noise while the boys explore the presents they’d unwrapped earlier.
Tyler situates himself next to Tim on the couch, nose already buried in his new book. Camden lays across the carpet on his stomach, tiny feet kicking into Tim’s shin every so often as he swings them through the air. He’s got a new art kit; periodically he sits up long enough to pass Tim a drawing and offer a rambly, nonsensical description of what he’s drawn.
Tim checks his phone every few minutes, always trying to decide if it’s too soon to text Lucy again. Ordinarily, he knows it would be. But surely there’s an exception to be made for a koala roasting marshmallows over a fire in a kitchen sink, right?
Then Genny declares that it’s bedtime. Both kids have been up since before dawn, so mercifully nobody puts up a fight, other than to insist that Uncle Tim be in charge of bedtime stories.
So he sits on the floor, between two twin beds, identical in everything except for bedding and stuffed animals. He reads from a worn-in copy of The Polar Express, the one he remembers his mom sending to Nebraska when Tyler was born. Camden is asleep before the story ends, and Tyler just barely makes the last few pages. When he stands up, Tim smooths the covers over both of their legs before joining his sister back in the living room.
Genny passes him a glass of wine before he even sits down. They settle on opposite corners of the couch, her curled up with a blanket over her legs and Tim with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee.
“How are you doing?” he asks, finding a moment alone to check in with his sister for the first time all day. He remembers how hard his first holiday season without Isabel was, and the friends who took the time to reach out along the way.
“I’m … alright. It’s for the best, anyway.” Genny sighs and takes a long drink of her wine, gulping down enough that Tim is pretty sure there’s more than she’s letting on. There’s a follow-up question on the tip of his tongue, but Genny changes the subject before he can ask. “But I want to hear about you. Come on, Tim, Lucy? And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“It’s … new.” Tim shifts around on the couch. “We haven’t said anything yet, until we figure out what we want things to be between the two of us.”
“Right, because you fell in love with the rookie you trained.”
“Something like that. But I don’t want to say too much. Not until I talk to Lucy and make sure she’s alright with a few people knowing.”
“That’s … surprisingly mature. I’m proud of you, Tim. Look at my brother, all grown up.”
“I’m older than you!”
“And you finally caught up.”
He sticks his tongue out, and for a moment, it feels like he’s 15 years old again, sniping back and forth with his baby sister.
The conversation turns serious again, when Tim reassures her that the first year is always the hardest, and the boys had a great holiday even if things were a little different than they’ve been before.
“I’m proud of you too, you know. You’re doing great with them, Gen.”
And just like all those years ago, he knows that no matter how much they tease, whatever the world brings, he’ll always be in his sister’s corner. The feeling, he knows, is mutual.
The evening winds down, as they always do. The wine glasses drain empty, and he can tell that Genny is exhausted. Tim wraps up the conversation and stands up. Genny walks him to the door, and it’s anyone’s guess who initiates the hug. He checks his phone again when they step apart, as he’s reaching for the keys in his pocket.
“Merry Christmas, Gen.”
“Merry Christmas, Tim. And … tell Lucy too.”
“Yeah, I will.”
As Tim drives across town, for the first time in a long time, he finds himself dreading a house that’s empty except for his dog. Usually, he’s indifferent to a quiet night on his own. But tonight, there’s one person he’s wanted to talk to all day.
And when he turns onto his block, her car is parked in his driveway.
He pulls in beside her and waits for her to get out of her car.
“Lucy!” He’s surprised to see her, happy that she’s here, and then all at once, the worry hits him.
Why is she here? Isn’t she supposed to be at her parents’ all day?
They’d considered having their private Christmas celebration on the 26th, until Lucy pointed out that sometimes she gets roped into spending the night with her parents, so she might not be available for breakfast.
Tim hasn’t told her, but he’s got a French toast recipe that he only breaks out for special occasions. And he can’t think of anything more special than their first Christmas together.
“I know what we said,” she begins, walking across the driveway toward him. “But I … I just wanted to see you.”
“Lucy.” His voice softens; she’s closer now so he doesn’t have to shout, and he can see the weariness written plainly across her face.
“This doesn’t even have to be our Christmas. Your gift is at home. I came straight from my parents. They’re just …” she sighs. “And I wanted to see you.”
“Lucy.” This time, he says her name firmly enough to stop the rambling.
“Yeah?” They’ve migrated to the front porch together, and Tim’s keys are sitting in the lock.
“Do you want to come in?”
She follows him into the house and trails behind him while he opens the back door to let Kojo outside.
“I wanted to see you too,” he says, when he finally turns around and reaches for her hands. “All day, I kept wanting to text you, but I knew you were busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt –” This time, she cuts him off.
“I got your picture. Uh, during dinner. Dad didn’t even see it, and he already hates it.”
“Sorry.” Tim winces.
“Don’t be,” Lucy laughs. “It was kind of funny, once I got over wanting to roll my eyes at him again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell them who it was that texted me, just that it was someone from work. You know he’s always loved my career choice.” Tim draws her into his arms, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her close.
“Oh, Genny knows about us, by the way. Not much, but she … she knows you’re part of my life.” He changes the subject, sensing Lucy’s discomfort.
“Good.” Lucy beams at him. “I like her.”
“Me too.” He’s relieved to hear that Lucy is OK with Genny knowing. Not just because the cat is already out of the bag, but because she knows how important his sister is to him.
“And I like you.” Lucy reaches up to touch his cheek softly.
“Me too.” For a long moment, they’re just smiling at each other.
“Maybe we could watch a movie or something?” Lucy shifts closer to him, tucking herself under his chin. He sways back and forth, rocking her gently. When she’s ready, he’ll be here to listen to her talk about her parents. But for now, he’s happy to be whatever distraction she needs.
“I’d like that. You can pick.”
“Wow, a Christmas miracle.” Her face is buried in his chest, so the words are muffled. But he hears them anyway and can’t help but laugh.
“That’s not even your present.”
“I don’t need anything else. I’m just happy to be here with you.”
Tim ducks down to kiss the top of her head.
“Merry Christmas, Lucy.”
“Merry Christmas, Tim.”