Page 105 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
“Ithinkit’s this one,” my mom says. She’s standing by the mailbox with my dad, who’s pointing at a house across the street that has so many Christmas lights on it that it looks like it’s on fire. “Our book club has never actually met here,” she says. “We usually go to restaurants. It’s a fun little group.”
The perfect part is less obvious than the stupid part. But yeah, it’s perfect. There was a time in my life when I’d be standing out here alone, a singular figure as free as the wind up in the trees. Tonight, though, I come with a group. Ian and Bella, Harry Styles on his leash, a nosy mom, a partially deaf dad, a weirdly large family, and one dead husband. This is who I am now. This is whoweare.
“What should we do?” Ian asks.
“Let’s give it a sec,” I say. “Be patient, buddy.”
“Henry, are you in there?” shouts Bella.
“Or, yeah,” I say, “I guess we could just yell.”
“Henry!” shouts Ian.
“Henry!” I yell.
Bella yells his name again. So do a few of my relatives. Then the door opens, and I hold my breath.
“Whoa,” says Ruth. She’s beside me, shivering in the cold with Nick. “IsthatHenry?”
A handsome man steps onto the porch with a baby on his chest.
“No,” I say. “I think that’s his brother.”
“Oh. Drag.”
A woman comes out next and stands beside the guy and the baby. An older man and woman come out after that, smiling. “Hi, Maryellen,” the woman says to my mom.
“Hi, Doris,” my mom says. “Merry Christmas. Your house is lovely.”
“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Then, finally, Henry.
“Hi, Henry!” Bella shouts. Ian says hi, too. Harry Styles barks then sticks his head in the snow. I wave, which is embarrassing.
“Hey, guys,” he says.
“Okay,” says Ruth. “I can see it. Yeah, heiscute.”
“You saved our mice, didn’t you, Henry?” Bella asks.
“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. It’s been so cold out. They’re safe, though. Don’t worry.”
Rolling up with a posse may have been perfect, but I’m suddenly shy now because there are so many of us. Ruth gives me a shove. “You gonna go over there, you think, or do you wanna wave at him again?”
Henry walks toward me as I walk toward him, and we meet in his parents’ front yard.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” I say.
He asks if I’m cold. I laugh and tell him that I am. It’s full-on snowing again, like earlier.
There are so many things I want to tell him. I want to tell him that I’m not happy yet either, but I’m getting there, and that he was right, the fact that I can even imagine happiness againdoeshave somethingto do with him. I want to tell him that I’m sorry for biting his head off when he came to my house the other day. I want to tell him that his hair looks nice with snow in it. I want to tell him that I hope his invitation to dinner still stands and that he shouldn’t go to L.A. becausewe’rehere: Bella, Ian, and me, and how are we supposed to see about loving each other if we’re on different sides of the country? Instead, I say, “We got you a pair of Costco sweatpants for Christmas.”
He laughs and looks at my hands, which, of course, are empty.
“They’re at home,” I say. “I wrapped them and everything. I think you’ll like them.”
