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It was no secret to anyone that knew him, that Philip Altman had an odd relationship with the holidays. Having been raised, for the most part, in a Jewish household that rarely, if ever, practiced the religion would do that to you. So as of late, he and his high school sweetheart Claire had made it somewhat of a tradition of going to her house for Christmas Eve and spending it with her family. Her large, Catholic family.
“You know we don’t have to do this,” Claire said as they drove their rental car toward her parent’s home. “We can still turn the car around and go back to Manhattan.”
“What’ll you tell your parents?” Philip asked her.
“We couldn’t get a car in time. I couldn’t get off work. Our apartment flooded so we had to stay and take care of it. We got abducted by aliens. The excuses are endless.”
Philip laughed. He knew the only reason Claire really ever went back home was at the insistence of her mother. If it was up to her, the two of them would stay at their one-bedroom in Lennox Hill for Christmas. Philip couldn’t really blame her. She, much like Philip, was the black sheep of her family. She was unmarried (albeit dating Philip), childless, and holding down a steady and well-paying job, all things good Catholic girls did not do. At least in the eyes of all the men in her family.
Philip soon pulled up to the large Colonial home of Claire’s parents, parking the car behind one of her sister’s minivans. As he shut the car off, Claire sighed to calm her nerves. For a moment, Philip wondered if he should go with her idea and head back to New York.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Claire said and opened the car door.
The couple made their way to the brightly decorated door. Philip subconsciously brushed his borrowed sports coat off. He made sure to dress just short of a fancy tuxedo. While he’d met Claire’s parents many times since they first started dating their sophomore year of high school, he always made it a point to try and look his best whenever he saw them as well as be on his absolute best behavior. Claire’s father, Harry, had made himself rather clear that he did not approve of her dating Philip yet he still kept an air of civility about him, despite the occasional quips. Philip just dealt with them; he loved Claire far too much to mess that up.
Claire knocked once to let them know they were there and opened the door.
“Auntie Claire,” exclaimed Josh, one of her many nephews as he ran up to hug her.
“Hey you,” Claire said as she hugged him. “Good lord, you’ve gotten big.”
Josh nodded as Sharon and Laura, two of Claire’s three older sisters walked up to greet her.
“You made it,” Sharon said as she hugged her baby sister.
“Unfortunately,” Claire remarked as she removed her coat.
Sharon smiled. She hugged Philip. “Glad you could make it.”
“Glad to be here,” Philip responded. “I mean, it’s better than the alternate.”
While Harry wasn’t Philip’s biggest fan, Claire’s mother, Martha, and her three sisters, Sharon, Laura, and Katie, all were very welcoming to him. He couldn’t lie, it made visiting so much more relaxing.
As they hung up their coats, Martha walked into the foyer.
“Hey, love,” she greeted her daughter with a hug. She hugged Philip. “And dear Philip. So glad you could make it. Can I get you some eggnog?”
“Water’s fine,” he replied. “Oh, I almost forgot.”
He handed her a box of cookies he had picked up at a bakery near their apartment before they left. “Merry Christmas.”
“How thoughtful.” Martha took the box. “I’ll save this for dessert. Dinner’s almost ready so make yourself comfortable in the den with Pop, Harry, Mark, and Doug.”
Philip headed to the family den. As Martha said, Harry was sitting in his recliner, and Mark and Doug, Sharon and Laura’s husbands were sitting on the couch, along with John, one of Sharon and Mark’s four boys, and Patrick, (or Pops, as he was known) Claire’s grandfather. A football game was playing on the TV.
“Sup Altman,” Doug greeted Philip as he sat on the loveseat.
“Hey,” he replied. “I didn’t know there was a game on.”
“It’s a repeat from last year,” Mark said.
“Oh. Who’s playing?”
“Giants and Vikings,” Mark told him.
Philip nodded as the men sat in silence, their eyes transfixed on the TV set. Claire came in with a glass of water for Philip. She handed it to him with a kiss on his head.
Doug held out his glass in a silent signal that he wanted a refill. Claire ignored it. Doug looked like he was about to say something when Sharon called everyone to the dining table to eat.
“Wow, everything looks great, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Philip said as he sat down in his place in between Claire and Conner, another of Sharon’s sons.
“Thank you, dear,” he replied. “And please, call me Martha. You’ve known me long enough.”
“And still haven’t proposed yet,” Dough quipped in, an obvious dig at the couple.
“Enough,” Harry said as Claire shot her brother-in-law a look that could kill. He held out both his hands for Martha and his son Sean to take them, a signal it was time to say grace.
Everyone took the hand of the person on either side of them. “Bless us O’ Lord for the wonderful meal cooked by the loving hands of my wife and daughters. We thank you for our good health and all the blessings you have given us. We also thank you for bringing all my children and their spouses and boyfriends together on this night, the eve of your son’s birth. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone said in unison.
Claire kept her hold on Philip’s hand a few seconds longer, giving it a squeeze of silent thanks. He squeezed her hand back. He wouldn’t miss being with her for anything.