Christmas with the Walkers starts in the living room, where we have a drink while everyone gets to open one present. Kate is with us, and I understand this is where she usually spends her Christmas, as she isn’t close to her family. It seems that Isabella and Michael are good at welcoming strays into theirs.
I get a cookbook from Andrea’s abuela, and the title has me smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “Mexican Recipes for Gringos…”
“That’s for when you miss me and I’m not there to feed you well,guapo,” sheexplains.
“Thank you, Maria. I’ll try my hand at it first, and then we’ll invite you to Seattle so you can see if I’ve been a good student.”
“Great idea!”
The last one to open her gift is Andrea, who gets a framed photo of her and Kate that Rafael took a few years back.
Dinner is unsurprisingly delicious, and the conversation is lively and engaging, flowing easily between us. With our bellies well-filled, we then migrate back to the living room for the rest of the gifts.
“So, we open everything tonight?” I ask as I sit on the couch next to Andrea.
“Yes, that’s the Mexican way,” Isabella explains. “Where’s the hat?”
“Right here,” Michael answers, walking in with a worn-out Fedora. When he sets it upside down on the coffee table, I see it’s full of folded pieces of paper.
“It was my abuelo’s hat,” Andrea explains. “He used to wear it all the time. This is our way to honor him every year.”
“I see …”
“Do you know how this works,mijo?” Isa asks me.
“I’m afraid not, no.”
“We play charades and the one who guesses right either picks a gift for themselves or someone else. Then it’s their turn to mime, and we keep going until all the gifts are gone.”
Although I’m not looking forward to having to mime anything, I can’t help but appreciate the idea behind it and how it effortlessly includes Rafael. Since it’s my first time here, they insist I mime first. The few glasses of eggnog and wine loosened me up enough to agree without too much protest. Turns out miming a slug isn’t that hard if one’s willing to writhe on the floor.
A full hour of laughter and shouts unfold, punctuated by opening presents. It gets a little too much for me at points, so I dissociate a few times. Andrea notices but lets me retreat into my own head, holding my hand in support while the others keep going. It’s no surprise that most of them give a present to someone rather than take one for themselves whenever they guess right. Andrea’s giving nature definitely comes from them.
Michael loves the digital arcade machine I got for him, which will be delivered in the new year, and Maria Carmen immediately puts on the row of pearls I bought for her. Isabella was trickier, but she seems to love the year’s worth of facials and massages I arranged with a local salon. I got Rafael a vintage camera with film, which was Andrea’s idea, and although I didn’t know Kate would be among us, I made up for it by offering her a weekend trip with her best friend in the city of her choice, all expenses paid.
They’re already trying to agree on a destination when Michael hands me a flat, three-foot-by-three-foot package. Andrea stops talking and focuses on me as I open the package, which tells me this might be hers. I can feel the frame as I manipulate the gift, so I understand it’s a painting or something.
I remove enough bands of tape to slip it out, and when I see it, my brain shortcuts from the multitude of thoughts and emotions that flood it.
There are four custom illustrations of us, of the pictures we took in the photo booth, each of them in their quarter of the framed print. Not only that, but I recognize who drew and colored them because I’ve reread their comics dozens of times. She somehow got the artists from my favorite comic book series to draw us like this. They altered the original photographs, and instead of the turtleneck I wore that evening, I’m wearing an open white shirt with a Superman suit underneath it, and she has Wonder Woman’s golden headband across her forehead while her red dress resembles the Themysciran’s bustier.
I’m so stunned by this, so flabbergasted, that I forget to watch my language as I ask, “How the—How the fuck did you do this?”
“I asked very nicely. And I offered a bunch of money.”
No fucking way. This is-this is insane. Those artists I obsessed over my whole childhood drew me,us, as superheroes…
“You took me by surprise for your birthday, so I planned your Christmas presentwayahead, to make up for it. You like it?”
There’s enough hesitation in her tone to let me know she’s actually uncertain how to interpret my reaction. “Like it? Andrea, this is the best gift I haveeverreceived!”
“No, I am the best gift,” she counters. “This can be a close second.”
Mindless of her family, I hold the frame with one hand and pull her in to thank her with an elated kiss. She giggles but doesn’t resist, leaning closer into my clumsy embrace. As soon as I let her go, I look at the gift again. “Can we see?” Isabella asks, curious. I hand it to her and return my attention to Andrea.
“This makes me feel terrible about my gift for you,” I protest. “It’s not enough.”
“Which one is it?”
