Page 47 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
“And I want you to be happy,” he says. “I think that you think you can’t be—or that youshouldn’tbe—because Brynn is gone. But you can, and you should. That’s why I wanted you to meet Meredith. I don’t know, man, maybe you’ll never lay eyes on her again. But she’s nice, and she’s cool. And there are other nice, cool people out there in the world. And you deserve to be with one of them. Preferably one here, in Baltimore.”
Cal and I have spent so much energy in our lives joking around. Healthy or not, it makes times like these—times when we don’t say something silly or quote a movie—feel that much more significant. Just two guys and a baby sharing a moment while causing a minor pedestrian traffic jam.
“Plus,” he says, “L.A. is stupid.”
“Yeah?” I say.
“The Pacific time zone makes zero sense. The whole state is about to break off into the ocean, and with your sickly complexion you’ll burst into flames in a day and a half, tops.”
“Gosh, I never thought of any of that,” I say.
Kelsey points at another dog. She seems to be wondering why we’ve stopped walking.
“Hey,” Cal says, “you wanna wear her for a little bit?”
“Who, Kelsey?”
“No, that lady over there. Yeah, Kelsey.”
“Um,” I say.
“Here, she’s all yours.”
My brother is a BabyBjörn pro at this point, so transferring her to me just takes a second. I’ve held her before, but never like this, andI’m surprised how light she is, like half a bag of groceries. She points at Cal and says, “Dah.”
We didn’t want kids, Brynn and me. The country was moving backward. The world was overcrowded and burning. Plus, every couple we knew who had kids became broke, tired shells of their former selves. So, we committed to childlessness and each other. We did carefree things. We took day trips to wineries and went to concerts. We had sex in the afternoons and stayed up too late watching holiday movies together.
Cal and I are on the move again, off to find presents for our parents. Kelsey’s weight pulls me gently forward. We didn’t want kids, but as my niece’s fine hairs tickle against my chin, I wonder if losing Brynn would’ve been slightly less awful if there was a small person here with her eyes and cheekbones.
“Just watch out for her little heels, though,” Cal says. “She’s tall enough now to kick you right in the balls.”
Scrooged
The trap is set in Grace’s kitchen. That sounds more dramatic than it should, since no mice are in any actual danger. Still, I’m anxious because who knows if I set it up right? I imagine finding the trap busted open and peanut butter–stuffed mice sprawled across the tile like little beached whales.
A kid from Ian’s school told him about a version ofA Christmas Carolwith the guy fromGhostbusters,so Grace invited me over to watchScroogedvia text.
Are you one of those guys who likes Bill Murray?
Isn’t that all guys?
Great. Don’t forget Bella’s M&M’s this time.
It’s midafternoon, Sunday. Grace figured matinee timing would increase the odds of everyone remaining conscious until the end.
The kids were worried about the trap, but I explained the “humane” part. Then I distracted them with presents from PrecociousHQ.
“Presents?” said Ian.
“For us?” asked Bella.
Harry Styles got into it, too, rifling through the shopping bag like a TSA agent.
I got Bella a Christmas book calledRudolph the Red-Nosed Squirrel. For Ian, I found an instructional book on drawing animals. As I handed them their gifts, I wondered if it was weird to buy things for kids I hardly know. I also wondered if it was weird that Iwantedto buy things for kids I hardly know.
Ian is drawing a horse as we watch the movie. Even with the M&M’s I brought her, though, Bella seems skeptical of me. She’s cuddled on the couch with Grace, her new squirrel book mostly ignored.
“That’s cool, Ian,” I say, glancing over at his picture.
