The hearth is expansive; when we were about seven, and our chore was sweeping out the fireplace at the end of the holiday, Theo and I could almost stand up inside it. The flames actually roar to life. Even once they mellow into a rumbling, crackling simmer, the blaze still feels like a living, breathing creature in here with us.
A plate of cookies sits on the coffee table. Mom and Dad occupy opposite sides of the love seat, reading their respective books. Benny, Kyle, and Aaron are doing a puzzle on the floor with Kennedy while Zachary sits on Benny’s back and pretends he’s a motorcycle. Christmas music plays quietly in the background, and Lisa futzes around, adjusting the lights, poking the fire, fetching throw blankets for us. Ricky is on a call in the kitchen, and Theo slumps on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
Seeing him sparks a memory in me: this night, the first time around, I was sitting next to him and we spent the evening going down various Instagram rabbit holes together, totally oblivious to other people around us. Which was such a teenage-y thing to do, now that I think about it. Why didn’t we hang with the others, and how often were we like that? Is that why Andrew thought that Theo and I . . . ?
Maybe if I had spent this evening just enjoying the ritual and the sheer bliss that comes from being in a room full of people I adore, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.
I shuffle over to the tree, sliding beneath it and lying on my back so I can look up through the gnarled branches. It’s a kaleidoscope of color and texture: the smooth light bulbs, the prickly pine needles. Ornaments of glass, and silk, and spiky metallic stars. A little wooden drummer Theo gave Ricky nearly twenty years ago. Laminated paper ornaments of our handprints from preschool, handmade ceramic blobs that were supposed to be pigs, or cows, or dogs. Nothing matches; there’s no theme. But there is so much love in this tree, so much history.
Beside me, a shadow blocks the heat and light of the fire, before sliding beneath the tree. I turn my head, coming eye to twinkling eye with Andrew.
My heart trips over itself. After the tree farm, I wasn’t sure whether he’d keep his distance.
“This looks like a good idea,” he says, turning his face up to the branches overhead. His profile is illuminated with blues and yellows, reds and greens. A few lights make flashing patterns through the ornaments and onto his cheekbones. “Smells good, too.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I shift a little, scooting deeper beneath the branches. I wonder what we look like from the outside: two sets of legs, sticking out from under the tree like the Wicked Witch of the East trapped beneath Dorothy’s house. “A good thinking spot.”
“And what were you thinking about?” he asks.
“I was thinking about how much I like this tree.”
He reaches over, eyes unfocused as he moves his thumb across my cheek. An echo of electricity lingers on my skin once he’s lifted his hand, and it takes me a second to focus on the thumb he’s showing me. “Drop of water,” he says.
“Oh.”
“Must have dripped from the tree.”
I laugh. “Are you saying I have a moisture problem again?”
Andrew blinks before he bursts out laughing. “What?”
Oh, crap. That wasn’t this timeline. That was before. This Andrew isn’t in on the inside joke. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
His eyes gleam in delight. “Did you actually just say you have a moisture problem?”
“No.” I might die from this. “Yes.” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “Ignore it. Let’s move on.”
I can tell he’s a cat who’d like to play with this mouse a bit longer, but he gives me a little shrug, gamely singing, “Okay.” Andrew turns his attention to the branches above him, using his old-man voice. “Maisie?”
“Yes, Mandrew?”
“You know what just occurred to me?”
“What just occurred to you?”
“We brought this tree in, like, two hours ago. What if there’s a squirrel still living in there?”
We stare at each other, wide-eyed, and shout in unison: “Ahhh!”
I’ve completely forgotten that my phone is in my pocket until it buzzes, interrupting our laughter. There is no one in the world I need to talk to right now who isn’t in this room with me, so I ignore it. It immediately buzzes again.
“Your butt is vibrating,” Andrew says.
“If it’s my boss replying to me right now, I’m going to need something stronger than sparkling water.” I pull it out and look. It isn’t Neda, thankfully; it’s a text from Theo.
No punctuation, no context. Just Theo, typing like a teenager.
I realize Andrew is reading over my shoulder when he lets out a little laugh through his nose. “See?”
I feel myself recoil. “See what?”
He lifts his chin, indicating my phone. “You haven’t spent any time with him, and he’s grumpy.”
“We were just talking earlier,” I counter, not quite a lie.
“Are you mad at him?” he asks.
I swallow, staring up at the lights. A scattered view blinks in and out of focus. “Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
I turn my head, and Andrew blinks, brows pulled low.
“It’s hard to explain,” I admit. “I’m not mad at him, I’m just aware that he and I are close because we’ve known each other forever, but not because we’re actually close anymore.” I shrug. “Just normal drifting that happens when people grow up, I guess.”
He smiles at that. “Mae . . .”
I grin back at him. “Yes?”
Andrew clears his throat, a sweetly pointed ahem. “About what you said earlier.”
Oh.
“Yeah?” The paradox of a hammering heart and dissolving stomach makes me feel light-headed.
“I appreciate your honesty,” he says.
Ugh. The worst thing he could say right now.
“You don’t have to let me down easy, Andrew.” I reach over and playfully smack him and the tree trembles above us.
“Andrew, Mae, what are you doing in there?” Mom calls out.
“Nothing!” we answer in unison.
“Well, don’t shake the tree,” she chides.
Again, we answer together: “We won’t!”
He turns back to me, whispering, “Are you sure Theo doesn’t think you’re into him?”
“Are you saying I’ve given him the impression that I am?”
“No, but if I assumed . . . maybe Theo assumed, too.”
Well, huh. I guess if Theo thought I was into him, it might explain why he was so cold the morning after I pushed him away.
I shake my head, and Andrew turns his face back up to the lights so it’s hard to read his expression. “Is it weird that I sort of worried you’d . . .” He flounders a little. “I don’t know, get together and then get hurt?”
I can’t even wrap my head around this. Andrew worried that I would date Theo and get my heart broken? Am I in the Upside Down? “Um, yes, it is very weird.”
Andrew gives a helpless shrug in response. “He’s a player. You’re good.”