Page 52 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Mom, please don’t call me that,’ Ethan pleaded through gritted teeth. Chrissie rolled her eyes as she swiped the bottle from her son’s hand and topped up three of the glasses now the bubbles had settled.

Saul returned from the bathroom, sitting down in the spot he’d vacated, leaving Chrissie standing without a seat.

‘You sit here, Mom – I’ll grab that beanbag in the corner.’ Ethan made a move to stand up but I nudged him back down.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sit on it!’ The thought of sharing a sofa with both parents of a man I’d been about to sleep with was too much for me to bear.

‘That’s kind of you, hon,’ Chrissie said, sitting down in my newly vacated spot. It was hard for me to figure out if she was being genuine or not. ‘I think this is probably the most people that have ever been in this room at once!’ she added.

Cosy for two.

He wasn’t wrong.

I set the beanbag down opposite the sofa and descended onto it, still clutching the glass of champagne. More accurately, I descended into it, as it was much less full of ‘beans’ than it ought to have been and pretty much collapsed beneath me so I could feel the hardwood floor against my bum. As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, I sloshed half the champagne into my lap during the manoeuvre. A single polystyrene ball popped out through a straining seam to add a final note of farce to the entire scene.

‘You okay down there?’ Chrissie asked, the three of them peering down at me. I was more eye-level with their knees than with their faces. I couldn’t tell if Ethan was biting his lip to stifle a groan or a giggle.

How is this happening?

‘All good! I might need some help getting up in a bit, though.’

‘I’m sure Ethan would be happy to provide his services,’ Saul said with another wink. Shit, was his dad a creep?

‘Saul! They’re colleagues.’ Now it was Chrissie’s turn to wink at me. There were so many winks flying about I didn’t know where to look. I settled for staring at Ethan’s legs, one of which was bouncing up and down relentlessly, as if he were trying to generate enough vibrations to self-combust.

‘So then, Flora. Are you another graphic designer?’ Saul asked.

OMG, this felt like an anxiety dream version of a job interview.

‘No, I’m a… copywriter.’

‘A wordsmith! I guess that explains why you’re helping out with the speech.’

‘Yeah, exactly.’ I took a sip of champagne, assuming someone would pick up the conversation baton, but no one did. ‘So, are you, er, looking forward to the wedding?’ I asked.

‘Oh, we are. It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Saul?’ Chrissie responded.

‘Sure has.’

‘They’ve been together for a long time, then?’ I asked.

‘Oh, long enough,’ Chrissie said vaguely. Why did I get the impression there was a whole sub-layer to this conversation that I wasn’t party to?

‘Cute overalls, hon,’ she said after another uncomfortable beat of silence, looking at my alcohol-soaked dungarees. Despite her immaculate tailored camel co-ord, she didn’t appear to be being sarcastic.

‘Flora’s a fan of the caption contest, Dad.’ Ethan sounded keen to change the subject.

Saul sat to attention. ‘You are?’

‘Yep, I made the final once.’

‘You’re kidding? I haven’t made the final in the twenty-five years I’ve been entering!’

While Saul and I connected over captions, comparing our submissions for the latest cartoon, Chrissie’s phone rang and she shut herself in the bathroom to answer it. Ethan just sat there, sipping and shellshocked.

Chrissie re-emerged after a minute or so. ‘Saul, we’ve got to go. Sorry, Ee-than, Ricky’s got a situation with his suit and we need to head off.’

Ethan jumped up. ‘I’ll see you guys out.’