“Only the best for my star teacher,” he says.
I smile, listening to our heartbeats slow.
“What are you doing on Christmas Eve, Georgia?” he asks suddenly.
I tense. “Why?”
“Well, Christmas Eve is kind of a big deal for us. We call it Noche Buena. Lots of good food and karaoke. We go over to my rich Tita’s place out on Long Island. My family is so big that we do a White Elephant game for gifts, so you only need to buy one.”
“Sounds nice,” I say.
“It is.” He repositions us so that he can look directly into my eyes. I hate when he does this, usually when he has a completely honest or serious point to get across. Something about it makes me feel… stripped bare. Vulnerable. “Do you want to come? My family would love to see you.”
Uncomfortable now, I try to move away, but he holds me in place.
“Talk to me, Georgia,” he commands, reading me.
“I…” My brain whirrs. “The holidays are tough for me. Especially… especially after my parents died. They used to make a big deal for Christmas. It used to be my favorite time of the year.” He listens, patiently. “I like to spend Christmas at home alone, by myself. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like… like your family. So full of love and warmth and kindness. I feel like it could make me hyper aware of what I’m missing. I’m extremely overwhelmed just thinking about it.”
He kisses my hair. “Well, I’m extremely depressed at the thought of you spending Christmas alone, but I’m not going to force you. Think about it, at least, Georgia. We’d all love to have you.”
“What happened to ‘just one night’, Oliver?” I ask him, point blank.
He smiles, kissing me softly on the lips. “We tried, and we failed. Zero out of four on the rubric. Did not meet benchmarks.”
Warmth spreads through my entire body.
This seems big. This seems like the last piece, the last chip on the wall. If I go, if I agree, this will be me ripped open, stripped bare. All my cards out on the table. Completely vulnerable. Catering to Oliver’s every whim.
Or is it the opposite? If I think of myself as an incomplete puzzle, will this be the last piece? To make me whole again? Filling the last bit of the empty space in my soul with Oliver and the Flores family and Christmas and holiday cheer?
Either way, it might be worth it.
Either way, this is going to be a test. The most ultimate of tests. The final boss. I hope he passes.
THIRTY-TWO
Oliver
On the lastday of school before the holiday vacation, I hear a tiny knock on my office door. “Come in,” I yell.
Max and Dorothy walk through the door holding a massive piece of paper between them.
“Hi, Max. Hi, Dorothy,” I say, pleasantly surprised to see them, and to see them together. “What brings you in here today?”
Max is bouncing up and down. “We made you a holiday card!”
The two of them carry the card over to me. I take it from their hands. It must be at least two feet tall. On the front, thirty tiny hands dipped in green paint form the shape of a Christmas tree. The fingers of all the hands point downwards, like branches and leaves. A star made from red glitter glue rests on the top.
I open the card. In an eight-year-old’s best handwriting, it says: Happy Holidays, Principal Flores! We love you! Love, Class 302.
My eyes sting. “Wow, friends. This is really beautiful. Ilove it so much. Happy holidays to you, too.” I stand up to put it in a place of honor among the awards on my table. “Did you guys do this yourself?”
“Ms. Baker helped us,” Dorothy says.
“Ms. Baker made us do it,” Max says at the same time.
“Well, tell Ms. Baker I said ‘thank you.’”
