The Twelve Days of Dash & Lily(42)

“I heard it!” squealed Langston as he walked through the living room toward the kitchen. He singsonged, “Dash believes in magic. Must be love!”

Benny followed my brother into the room. Seeing Dash and me lying on the floor together, Benny did a mock bump and grind against Langston’s hip. To me, Benny said, “Boyfriend staying over now? You’re lucky Mami and Papi are still in Connecticut!” He looked at Dash, then back at Langston. “Should we beat Dash up now or later?”

“We’re nice to Dash now,” said Langston with a sigh.

“??o?a es!” said Benny, which I believe was Puerto Rican for “No f*cking way.”

“It’s love, I guess,” Langston said with a sneer.

Benny said, “?Diantre! Is it too soon to give the Christmas present?”

Langston shrugged. “If you must.” He turned to Dash. “You may thank us for letting you open this now instead of later, in front of your girlfriend’s parents.”

Dash said nothing.

“Ingrate,” said Langston.

Benny stepped to the pile of Christmas presents and took out a box covered in multicolored gift paper from the Strand. He tossed the box to Dash. Dash unwrapped. It was clearly a box set of books, so I didn’t know why Dash’s face turned so red. He held up the box set for me to see: the Collected Works of D. H. Lawrence.

“?Feliz Navidad!” said Benny.

I didn’t know what about D. H. Lawrence could cause such an embarrassed face from my boyfriend (and I’d surely be Googling immediately after to find out). “Be sexy, be safe, dear literary Dash!” said Langston, laughing.

“Said from the person moving to Hoboken,” retorted Dash. “Sexy. Safe. Hoboken. Hmmm, which of these words does not belong?”

“HOBOKEN?” I yelled. The reaction was so instinctive, I didn’t have time to process that Boris was lying next to me. Hearing my cry, Boris immediately jumped to his feet and pummeled Benny, the least familiar person to him in the room, to the ground.

“Did I forget to tell you the location part of our new apartment?” Langston asked me.

“Willful nondisclosure,” I accused him. But I knew I was equally at fault. I’d been so upset by Langston telling me he was moving out that I’d neglected to ask where.

Langston said, “Manhattan and Brooklyn are way too expensive. And Queens and the Bronx are just too far from downtown.”

“?Hola!” said Benny. “?Ayúdame!”

“Heel,” I commanded Boris, who then unpinned Benny.

“Breakfast,” said Dash.

“I’ll make some,” said Langston. “You’re welcome.”

“Not with you,” said Dash. He took my hand. “We have a morning date with Mrs. Basil E. She wants to discuss plans for her Christmas-night party.” The excitement on Dash’s face was clear. For a guy who used to hate Christmas, he’d certainly turned over a new leaf. Or a new holly. Gift idea! Mistletoe-laden books. Dash pulled my hand to his face and placed a kiss on my palm. If he’d had them available, I believe he would have sprinkled the kiss with candy cane bits.

Dash believed in magic. Dash loved Christmas. Dash loved me!

I am indeed so shallow that I was much too concerned with the love in my heart and the promise of breakfast to dwell on my brother moving to godforsaken Hoboken. Whatever. Go already, Langston. What did I care? I had Dash. My real worry was that my relationship with my boyfriend was actually a ruse for Dash to spend more time with his real true love, my octogenarian great-aunt.

Langston told Dash, “I liked you better when you were snarly.”

Dash said, “You didn’t like me at all.”

“Exactly,” said Langston.

—

It pained me to admit it. But I did. “Grandpa looks great,” I said to Mrs. Basil E. privately as she ushered us from her drawing room to her dining room for breakfast. He walked ahead of us with Dash, and there was a spring in his step again, and his eyes were sparkling with his old cheer and mischief when he’d greeted us.

Mrs. Basil E. said, “It was wearing on him, all the care you’ve been giving him. He doesn’t want to be a burden, and he felt guilt all the time.”

“He’s not!” I said, about to defend our health care situation, until Mrs. Basil E. shushed me.

“He belongs to me, too,” she said. “And you need to be young and taking care of yourself. I’m interviewing home health aide candidates next week to pick up the slack with Grandpa’s needs.”

Somehow I felt like I’d let Grandpa down. “But I can do the job,” I said.

“I know you can, dear. But for now, your family would like your job to go back to being a teenager.”

“And dog walker.”

“If you insist.”

A glorious breakfast spread was set out on the dining table. Eggs, bagels, coffee, juice, fruit salad, and plenty of Dash’s favorite, yogurt. We sat down to dig in.

Mrs. Basil E. told me, “Have some of the lox on your bagel, Lily Bear. I had it brought down from Barney Greengrass this morning. It’s the best.”

Often when Mrs. Basil E. instructs me to eat something on her table that once had eyes, I politely put some of the cooked flesh on my plate and move it around there but never eat it. This time I didn’t. I said, “I’d like to not be called Lily Bear anymore, please. And I’m a vegetarian.”