Page 5 of One Night, Two Holidays

I can tell the moment he clocks the Joy’s Noodles take-out bag on the floor. His eyebrows arch, and I follow his gaze to the coffee table where there are enough take-out containers to feed a family of four.

I’m bracing myself for a comment about the copious amount of food I got to properly eat my feelings when he says, “Thai? I thought Jews ate Chinese food on Christmas?”

“We’re not a monolith.” I don’t mean to sound offended, especially because he’s right. “But also, I haven’t found decent Chinese that delivers around here.”

“But you found good Thai?”

“The best. You hungry?”

His stomach answers for him, letting out a low, rumbling grumble. Almost like a growl. I can’t help but smile, even though I wish he were hungry for me and not my Pad See Ew.

CHAPTER 5

December 24, 8:47 pm

JACK

Nessa has the most expressive eyes I have ever seen.

I wonder if she realizes this; I wonder if she knows that her emotions dance in them like candles flickering in a window, illuminating everything beneath the surface.

Like right now, as we sit side by side on the couch and finish off the Thai food she graciously shared with me, she’s telling me how her roommates took off for the holiday week—one on a Caribbean cruise, another to visit her boyfriend’s family in Michigan. She’s smiling, saying it’s fine and she doesn’t mind, but there’s a glimmer of loneliness in those big brown eyes.

“I had a lot of work to get done anyway,” she says. She’s a copywriter for an advertising agency, she told me earlier, which I thought was very cool, like a modern-day Peggy onMad Men.

“You didn’t want to be with family for the holiday?” I’ve already told her my sad story—though I tried my best to hide how utterly dejected I feel.

She shrugs. “Eh, my parents are on a trip for their anniversary. Plus, Hanukkah isn’t a major holiday—it just got commercialized to keep Jewish kids from feeling left out when Santa’s making the rounds and everyone else is drowning in tinsel and gift wrap.”

“Fair enough. But you probably still have traditions.”

I don’t know why I’m asking this, maybe because I’m missingmyfamily’s traditions. But also because of thatsomethingabout her that makes me want to find out more.

“Sure, when I was a kid. My grandma was really into all the holidays—but once she died, we kind of stopped. The last few years, my roommates and I would have a latke night, and we’d play drinking dreidel and watch cheesy movies.” She glances at me, smiling, but her eyes tell a different story: she misses the way her family used to be, and the friends who are like family.

I understand completely.

Then she blinks and looks away. “So, is your family a Christmas Eve family or a Christmas Day family?”

“Both,” I say, smiling at the memories despite the hollow feeling in my chest. “Christmas Eve dinner, followed by forced family caroling—picture my mom singingJingle Bellsoff-key while my dad tries to harmonize. Then, we’d put on matching pajamas and watchIt’s a Wonderful Lifewhile drinking my grandma’s famous homemade peppermint hot cocoa.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It’s the best,” I say, sighing. “The next morning, we always open stockings first. Mom fills them with the same things every year: a book, Chapstick, chocolates, and a lottery ticket. Weird, but…”

“It’s the tradition of it all,” she finishes, nodding.

“Exactly. Did you know that people who have strong family traditions are sixty-three percent more likely to report feelings of happiness and contentment on holidays?”

She laughs, shaking her head, and I realize I’m doing the thingI do when I’m a little nervous: dropping random trivia I’ve picked up.

“Sorry.” I grimace. “I tend to overdo it with the factoids—kids love them, especially when I bust out details about their favorite YouTubers or cartoon characters. But adults, sometimes not so much.”

“No, it makes sense,” she says, smiling. “There’s something magical about doing the same things year after year. Like a thread that ties us all together, a tapestry of memories woven through time.”

Warmth spreads through me, and I glance over at her. “That’s…beautiful.”

And so are you.

---