We also spoke about photography. They showed me the darkroom, which kind of reminded me of my high school science lab. There was a machine called an enlarger and plastic tubs used for chemicals, along with a clothesline where prints were hung to dry. There was a sink and counters lining the walls, half of which were low enough for Bryce’s mom to access, and a cool red light that made it seem like we’d traveled to Mars. Photos lined the walls of their home, and Mrs. Trickett sometimes mentioned the stories behind them. My favorite was one that Bryce had taken—an impossibly large full moon casting light over the Ocracoke lighthouse; even though it was in black and white, it looked almost like a painting.
“How did you get that shot?”
“I set up a tripod on the beach and used a special cable release because the exposure time had to be super long,” he answered. “Obviously, my mom coached me a lot when it came to developing the print.”
Because I was curious, Robert showed me the ultralight he was building with his dad. Staring at it, I knew I wouldn’t ride in the thing for a million dollars, even if it did fly. In turn, Richard showed me the video game he was creating, which was set in a world complete with dragons and knights in armor packing every weapon imaginable. The graphics weren’t great—even he conceded that—but the game itself seemed interesting, which was saying something, since I’d never seen the appeal of parking myself in front of a computer for hours on end.
But hey, what did I know? Especially when compared to a kid—or a family—like that?
* * *
“Have you figured out what you want to get Bryce?” Aunt Linda asked. It was Friday evening, and Christmas was three days away. I was washing dishes at the sink and she was drying, even though she didn’t have to.
“Not yet. I thought about getting him something for his camera, but I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you think we could run by a store after church on Sunday? I know it’ll be Christmas Eve, but it’ll be my last chance. Maybe I can figure something out.”
“Of course we can go,” she said. “We’ll have more than enough time. It’ll be a long day.”
“Sundays are always long.”
She smiled. “Extra-long, then, because Christmas is on Monday. We have regular Sunday mass in the morning like always, and then midnight mass for the Christmas celebration. And a couple of other things in between, too. We’ll stay overnight in Morehead City and catch the ferry back in the morning.”
“Oh.” If she heard the unhappiness in my tone, she ignored it. I washed and rinsed a plate and handed it to her, knowing it would be pointless to try to talk her out of it. “What did you get for Gwen?”
“A pair of sweaters and an antique music box. She collects those.”
“Should I buy something for Gwen, too?”
“No,” she said. “I added your name on the music box. It’ll be from both of us.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What do you think I should get Bryce?”
“You know him better than I do. Have you asked his mom what he might want?”
“I forgot,” I said. “I guess I could go over tomorrow and ask. I just hope it won’t be too expensive. I have to get his family something, too, and I was thinking I’d get them a nice picture frame.”
She put a plate into the cupboard. “Keep in mind that you don’t have to buy Bryce anything. Sometimes the best gifts are free.”
“Like what?”
“An experience, or maybe you can make something, or teach him something.”
“I don’t think there’s anything I can teach him. Unless he’s interested in makeup or painting his nails.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could see the mirth in them. “I have faith you’ll figure something out.”
I thought about it while we finished up in the kitchen, but it wasn’t until we moved to the living room that inspiration finally struck. The only problem was that I was going to need my aunt’s help in more ways than one. She beamed as soon as I explained.
“I can do that,” she said. “And I’m sure he’s going to love it.”
* * *
An hour later, the phone rang. I guessed it was probably my parents and was surprised when Aunt Linda handed me the phone, telling me that Bryce was on the other end. Which was, to my knowledge, the first time he’d called the house.
“Hi, Bryce,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if it would be possible for me to stop by on Christmas Eve. I want to give you your gift.”
“I’m not going to be here,” I said. I explained about the double mass on Sunday. “I won’t be back until Christmas Day.”
“Oh,” he said. “Okay. Well, my mom also wanted me to ask if you’d like to come by for our Christmas meal. It’ll be around two.”
His mom wanted me to come? Or did he want me to come?
Covering the receiver, I asked my aunt and she agreed, but only if he would join us later for our Christmas dinner.
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ve got something for your aunt Linda and Gwen, too, so we can do the gift thing then.”
It was only after I hung up that the reality of the situation hit me. It was one thing to see the flotilla with his family or drop by his house after walking the beach, but spending time at both our houses on Christmas Day felt like something more, almost like we were taking a step in a direction I was pretty sure I didn’t want to go. And yet…
I couldn’t deny that I was happy about it.
* * *
Christmas Eve on Sunday was different than it was at my house in Seattle, and not just due to the ferry ride and two services. I guess I should have expected that for a pair of former nuns, it was important to find a way to honor the true meaning of the holiday, which is exactly what we did.
After church, we did our normal run to Wal-Mart, where I found a pretty frame for Bryce’s parents and a card for Bryce, but instead of the usual garage sale circuit, we visited a place called Hope Mission, where we spent a few hours prepping meals in the kitchen for the poor and homeless. My job was peeling potatoes, and though I wasn’t that fast in the beginning, I felt like an expert by the end. On the way out, after Aunt Linda and Gwen had hugged at least ten people—I had the sense they volunteered there every now and then—I watched as my aunt surreptitiously slipped the shelter coordinator an envelope, no doubt a financial donation.
At sunset, we attended a living nativity program at one of the Protestant churches (my mom would have made the sign of the cross had she found out about that). We watched Joseph and Mary being turned away from the inn and ending up in the stable, the birth of Christ, and the appearance of the three wise men. It took place outside, chilly temperatures making the play seem more real somehow. When that part of the program ended, the choir began, and my aunt held my hand as we joined in on the carols.
Dinner came next, and then, because we still had hours until the midnight service, we went to the same motel we’d stayed at when I’d flown in from Seattle. I roomed with Aunt Linda, and after setting the alarm, we all took evening naps. At eleven, we were awake again, and if I was concerned about still being tired at the service, the priest used enough incense to keep anyone awake; my eyes couldn’t stop watering. It was also kind of eerie, but in a spiritual way. There were candles glowing throughout the church, an organ adding depth and resonance to the solemn music. When I glanced at my aunt, I noticed her lips moving with silent prayers.