“A lot of hand-holding in football?”
“More like butt grabbing and tackling, so I’d say this plan is pretty tame.”
Then somehow, with the same ease we talked about packaging and food regimens, we shift to delving into the family basics we’ll each need to know—names of all the relatives, basic background information, a story about where we met (a flight, naturally).
Before I know it, we’re landing.
When we get to the gate, he stands up and pulls his hair into a bun with a dusty rose–colored scrunchie, and I can’t help but stare. It’s adorable. He’s like a gorgeous teddy bear come to life.
“I don’t like haircuts,” he says, as thoughthat’swhy I’m staring. But instead of responding, I stand up too. And instantly we both start laughing. He’s more than a foot taller than me. I’m going to look like his niece he’s taking to a school dance or something.
He pats me on the head, the perfect silent teasing, no words of explanation needed.
“Well, Miriam, are we really doing this?”
That gaze is on me again.Fun,I think.Why not,I think. “You’re about to learn that Hanukkah is a holiday of miracles,” I finally say.
“And?”
“And if you can get my family to take me even mildly seriously, maybe I’ll start believing they’re real.”
Chapter 2
Oh my goodness, aren’t you something?”
I bolt into the living room when I hear the glee in my mom’s voice.
Apparently I hadn’t realized how much I would hate my mom squeezing a man’s bicep until right this moment. “Uh, Mom?” I ask and she swivels toward me, delighted. Cal thankfully seems amused.
“I’ve met yourboyfriend,” she says, in a tone like she’s surprised I didn’t make him up, even though I told her he was coming a few hours ago (although to be fair to her ... I guess I did make him up). She turns back to Cal, happily taking the flowers he’s proffered. “Well, I’m so thrilled you’re here. Jammin’s making brisket, and it’s going to be terrible, but I want to hear all about you. Miriam never tells me anything.” She shouts up the stairs. “Jammin’!”
Cal looks at me, bewildered. “Jammin’?” he whispers.
“My dad’s name is Benjamin, but the summer my parents met, she was obsessed with Bob Marley and the song ‘Jamming,’ so that’s what she calls him.”
He nods, a smile curving up, as my dad comes bounding down the stairs.
“Oh, aren’t you a big boy,” my dad says, shaking Cal’s hand, while I want to explode in a puff of smoke to avoid this interaction.Maybe this was actually a horrible idea.
At that moment my sisters, Sarah and Nina, and their spouses and kids all pile through the door, yammering away as though the formality of knocking and saying hello is a bridge too far.
“Who’re you?” my nephew Ethan asks, gazing up at Cal through his thick-rimmed glasses.
Suddenly everyone notices there’s a new man in the room and they all whip around to stare. It’s sort of hilarious because everyone in the Brody family is short. And now they all look like Munchkins waiting for Dorothy to explain her presence in Oz.
But Cal isn’t fazed. “I’m Cal. I’m your aunt’s boyfriend. You must be Ethan, Sarah and Jeremy’s son?”
Sarah and Nina are going to get whiplash the way they swing back to me. Laughter feels so tempting, but I hold it in. Mostly I’m shocked that Cal remembered all the names I threw at him.
“Oh, you’re Cal Durand from the Giants,” my brother-in-law Jeremy says, giving Cal a fist bump. “Sucks about your knee, man. Want a beer?” He grabs Cal by the elbow and leads him toward the kitchen. I guess this is easier than I would’ve thought?
Everyone follows because no one hangs out anywhere else in this house. It’s mayhem already. My three nieces are all intermittently arguing and playing tickle monster. Ethan—who at ten shouldn’t still be asking—lifts his arms until I pick him up. My sisters, Nina’s wife Jenny, and my mom are all loudly debating an idea Nina’s had about starting a spice business—“Guys, who needs like an entire jar of caraway seeds? What if someone sold them in little one-ounce bags?”Jenny and Mom are against it, and Sarah is for it. No one asks me my thoughts. No one cares that I might know something about distributing a food product.
I plop Ethan down on a stool at the massive kitchen counter and slide my mom’s cheese plate closer. Ethan and I sit quietly, munching on cheese, the two introverts taking in the ping-pong of conversation around us.
Cal’s been cornered by Jeremy to talk about football, presumably, but every few minutes his eyes find mine, an unusual anchor in a sea I’m normally adrift in.
“Okay, ladies and germs!” my dad says, clapping his hands together to try and gather everyone.
