Maybe Tom was thinking about how everyone at this table knew his marriage was over. And how everyone at this table knew he’d been unfaithful.
But Tom hadalwaysbeen soft-spoken and hesitant, so it was hard to say what he was thinking.
Her sisters had already forgotten to be strange with him. They’d shifted into their holiday selves, loud and happy. Their husbands hadnotforgotten. They were being even more taciturn than usual. They must not appreciate Cherry dragging all these marital nightmares to the table, the ghosts of Christmas past and future. Hope’s husband, Danny—usually warm and quietly witty—wouldn’t look at Cherry, even when she asked him a direct question.
After dinner, they played cards. Tom wasn’t a games person. At least not like this, with everyone shouting and getting competitive. He let one of the nieces take his spot at the table and went into the living room to sit on the couch next to Cherry’s dad, forever willing to take one for theteam. Cherry drifted away from the card game to go sit with them. She and Tom ended up playing Uno with some of the younger kids—and then having great seats to watch everyone open presents. Cherry drank afternoon coffee and ate cookies. (All bets were off on Christmas.)
Her family always took time with the presents, opening them one by one. They took photos. They made it a whole production. The television was still on, because their dad wouldn’t let anyone turn it off, and it was driving all of his daughters crazy, including Cherry.
He’d sobered up enough to start talking Tom’s ear off about Nebraska football and what the coaches needed to do. Tom didn’t care about Nebraska football, but her dad seemed to have internalized that Tom had played football once and was a good target for this sort of monologue. Tom was being a good sport about it. Cherry caught herself patting his thigh, likethank youandI’m sorry. At least he’d never have to do this again.
Cherry wondered whether her dad even knew about her and Tom... Probably not. He hadn’t been at Thanksgiving.
When it was Cherry’s turn to open a present, someone handed her an envelope. Joy had drawn Cherry’s name and bought her an individual membership to the botanical gardens—which was as good as saying,“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”
“Thank you,” Cherry said. “I’ve never been.”
The nieces and nephews wanted to eat the gingerbread cookies, and the older ones had prepared an argument that the younger ones shouldn’t get to pick firsteveryyear.
Cherry and Tom heard them out, and decided they were right. Cherry let the middle kids pick first. Everyone told Tom how great the cookies looked, and Tom told everyone that Cherry had made them. And Joy said, “Cherry, sometimes I forget you can draw.”
Tom got Cherry another cup of coffee, and one for himself, and a poinsettia-shaped napkin piled with tuile cookies for them to share.
One of her nieces wanted to sit next to Cherry, so Cherry scootedcloser to Tom. He put his arm on the back of the couch behind her, to make room.
The little kids were playing with their toys on the floor. And Cherry’s sisters were playing cards again. And Tom was so solid. So warm. The sun was starting to set. The neighbors’ Christmas lights came on.
“I think I’m going to run your dad home,” Tom said.
Cherry leaned forward to look at her dad. “You’re not staying, Dad?”
His eyes were red. His eyebrows were disordered. “I’m ready for an early night.”
Cherry’s mom was in the other room, playing cards. There was some back-and-forth about whether she should leave with him. He told her to stay—he was just going straight to bed.
Cherry and her sisters all knew that if anything, he was going straight to the bar. But they didn’t get involved. It was pointless. Faith finally said, “Mom, stay. Let’s finish our game.”
“I’ll be back,” Tom said.
“I’ll save your seat,” Cherry said.
“Save my cookies.”
As soon as their dad put on his coat, Honny turned off the TV.
Joy’s four-year-old daughter immediately claimed Tom’s seat and his cookies. Cherry played with her for a while, then got up to gather napkins, crumpled-up gift wrap, and dirty dishes. She went into Honny’s kitchen. Honny’s husband was in there, emptying the dishwasher. “I’ve got this,” Cherry said. “Take a load off, Carl.”
She got another batch of dishes going. She put the kettle on. She leaned over the sink, trying to stretch her back.
Tom found her like that.
When Cherry looked up, he was standing in the kitchen doorway. One of Cherry’s nephews squeezed past him to get a spoon and then squeezed out again.
Tom walked over to stand by Cherry at the sink. He rested his hand on her back. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m up,” she said.
He rubbed her back for just a second. “You’re supposed to be saving our prime seats on the couch.”
