“You’ll regret speaking to me like this.”
“I might, but I won’t regret marrying her.”
The wordmarryingsat between them like glass.
She picked up her teacup. Set it down. Picked it up again. The tea must’ve been cold by then. She drank it anyway.
“There’s something else. I’ve been carrying fast food gift cards in my wallet for the last few months. McDonald’s, mostly. I hand them out when I pass someone who’s hungry. I learned it from Tessa. She does it with granola bars. Now I do it with gift cards. I’m telling you because the next time you ask what I’ve been doing with my time, that’s part of it.”
She set the teacup down very, very carefully.
“You give McDonald’s coupons to homeless people.”
“I give McDonald’s gift cards to people who are hungry. I don’t check whether they’re homeless. It isn’t my business.”
“Gabriel.”
“I’m telling you these two things, Mother, because I’m done lying about my life. I don’t need your approval. The only opinion that matters to me is hers.”
The silence was the longest of his life.
“And if I told you, I wouldn’t receive her in this house.”
“Then I wouldn’t be in this house either. Christmas or otherwise.”
She looked at him for a very long time. He had never spoken to her like that. He hadn’t known he could.
“You’re in love with her.”
“Yes.”
“She’s going to expect to come to Christmas.”
“She is.”
“What’s the catering business called?”
“Thorne Events.”
“Thorne Events.” Camille turned the words over. “I’ll look into it.”
“Don’t bother mother. She doesn’t need you for her success. She earned that without you. Be careful. If you chase her away again, you’ll lose me too.”
“I’m not stupid, Gabriel. If you bring her here, I’ll be civil.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” She picked up her teacup. “Go. You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.”
He rose and let himself out.
Tuesday passedand then it was Wednesday. He still didn’t eat. By Wednesday morning, the hunger had become a hollow ache in his chest, indistinguishable from the rest of the emptiness.
He was starting to understand. Finally. Too late, maybe, but starting.
Wednesday afternoon, Gabriel stood outside the bodega on the corner of Avenue C and Sixth Street.
She had mentioned it once, years ago, a throwaway detail during one of their late-night study sessions in high school. He had remembered. He had always remembered everything about her.
