My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories(25)

Back home I had known exactly who I was, but out here, in New York, I didn’t have a clue. Everything seemed to be spinning out of control. And I was brutally hungry now. It felt like someone was wringing my insides out like a washcloth.

All I wanted to do was have one of those deep talks me and my mom used to have.

But I couldn’t.

When I woke up, I had a slight hangover and Olive was sitting on the toilet, staring at me, and I had this intense feeling of shame. Because of the cat. Seriously. I didn’t want her to see me this way. Sleeping in a bathtub. You know how they say animals can sense emotional shit way beyond what humans are capable of? I wondered what Olive was sensing about me as she sat there staring.

Or maybe I didn’t want to know.

Just as I was climbing out of the tub, I heard Haley knocking again. I pulled on my beanie and rushed to the front door. Before I opened it, though, I had a moment of panic. My clothes. I was wearing the same jeans and shirt she’d seen me in the day before. But it’s not like I could pretend I wasn’t home.

I swung open the door, saying: “I’m the one who got catsup all over myself today. I had to change back into my clothes from yesterday.”

Haley was standing there with more than a change of clothes this time. She had a plate of muffins, too. “I baked these this morning,” she said, ignoring my catsup lie, “and I need them out of my house so I don’t, like, eat every single one in the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling another strange surge of emotion.

Instead of handing me the plate, she pushed past me and went into the kitchen. “They’re banana nut, by the way. I’ll stick them in the fridge so Olive doesn’t—”

“No, wait!” I shouted.

But it was too late.

Haley froze, staring into Mike’s empty fridge. It took a while before she turned around, wearing a confused expression. “There’s nothing in here.”

My heart sank.

She stuck the plate of muffins on the shelf and closed the fridge and turned her attention toward the empty cupboards. I didn’t even try to stop her this time, just watched her open and close all the doors. “Why’d you lie to me?” she asked in a hurt voice.

I tried to laugh it off. “Lie to you? I didn’t lie.”

“You said Mike and Janice left you groceries.”

“They did,” I said, trying to maintain my smile. “I just … went through them already. Pretty stupid, right? It’s not even Christmas until tomorrow. Guess I’ll go pick a few things up at the corner bodega.”

Haley went to the trash can by the sink and lifted the lid. “There’s nothing in the trash, Shy.”

I leaned against the wall and didn’t say anything.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” She pointed toward the fridge. “And then we’re gonna talk.”

“About what?”

“Everything,” Haley answered. “In the meantime, eat the muffins.” Then she turned and headed off toward the master bathroom.

Soon as I heard the door click shut behind her, I went to the fridge and stared at the plate of muffins. I peeled back the cellophane she’d used to cover them and took one out and smelled it. They were still warm. Saliva pooled around my tongue. My nutrient-starved brain felt swollen and slow.

I needed to eat.

Badly.

But I couldn’t.

Not with Haley still in the apartment. She couldn’t know how hungry I was. Because if she did, she’d know how different our lives were. And she’d probably stop coming down here to use the shower.

I put the muffin back and closed the fridge and went to the couch and pretended to read. When Haley came out of the bathroom this time—hair damp, face freshly made up—she went directly into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said on her way back into Mike’s living room. “Seriously, Shy.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I answered in an even tone.

She stared at me for several long seconds. Then she threw her hands in the air and let herself out the front door.

Once I was sure she wasn’t going to come barging back in, I flung open the fridge door and took out the plate of muffins and sat on the floor and shoved the entire first one into my mouth, and I chewed and chewed and chewed, while at the same time grabbing the next one, getting ready to shove that one into my mouth, too.

And I began to sob.

I don’t even know why.

But it was the first time I’d felt tears on my cheeks since the day of my mom’s funeral. And they felt surprisingly good. They felt alive. Mostly because they reminded me of my mom, I think. And because it felt so amazing to fill my stomach.

I stayed there on the floor like that for a long, long time.

Eating and crying.

Crying and eating.

Trying not to think about anything but Haley’s muffins.


What Would It Be Like?

Maybe I’m more like my old man than I realize.

Remember how I said my sis has to sometimes drag him to the dinner table? That’s pretty much what Haley had to do for me tonight.

She came down at around seven, but she wasn’t looking to use the shower. She grabbed me by the wrist, without saying a word, and led me out of Mike’s place, onto the elevator, then into her amazing-smelling apartment where she sat me at her dining room table. “Stay,” she said, like I was some kind of German shepherd. Then she marched into her kitchen and pulled open her oven door.