“Nothing hydrates you better than pure H2O. Drink the water, Maya Daniels. Finish the bottle before any more alcohol.”
I drink the water. Or at least, I start to drink it.
He does the reindeer display at three. It’s brief and educational and genuinely entertaining. After, he comes back and finds me at the market, and we move through the afternoon together in a way that has become natural enough to be slightly startling when I notice it.
This is the part where I do the inadvisable thing.
It's small. It seems small. Holly has set up a hot cider station near the tree that's going to be lit at dusk, and there's a handwritten sign on it, warm and clear, that says the cider is complimentary for the preview group and guests. I am in the preview group. I pour two cups.
I hand one to Anthony and take a sip of mine and wander approximately ten feet to look at a display of handmade wreaths, and that's when I hear Holly behind me say, very quietly but clearly, "Maya…" in the specific voice of someone who is about to explain something after the fact.
I turn around.
Anthony is looking at the cup. Then at me. Then at the sign, which I read again now with the full context of Holly's voice. Shewas clueing me into the fact that I’ve made a big mistake but without pointing it out in a way that would embarrass me.
The cider station is labeled complimentary for preview guests. The line below, which I did not read, says the cider cups at the right are alcoholic, a spiked spiced cider for the adults. The cups at the left are non-alcoholic, mulled apple for everyone else.
I handed Anthony the cup on the right. Anthony does not drink alcohol; we just had this conversation. He has ordered sparkling water at every event and bourbon was the one exception and even that was slow and deliberate, and I somehow still handed him the wrong cup. He told me he doesn’t like to drink, doesn’t like how it makes him feel and if he’s driving or working with animals, he won’t drink because one small mistake can cost a life.
Because I wasn't paying attention. Because I was busy feeling warm and comfortable and I just grabbed the first cups I saw without reading the sign and handed him something without checking.
"I'm sorry," I say immediately. "I didn't read the — I should have checked —I didn’t do it on purpose…" Grabbing the cider was on purpose. I was still holding a half-drunk bottle of water. Grabbing alcoholic cider was not.
"It's fine." He hasn't drank it. He's just holding it. "I'm not going to fall over from a sip of cider."
"I know, but I should have looked, especially after our conversation."
"Maya."
I stop.
"It's fine," he says again. But his voice is different, not cold, not angry, something that has both of those things underneath it but is choosing something else. He hands the cup back. "Hand me the other one."
I get him the other cup.
Holly has diplomatically disappeared into the crowd. I would have kept walking without realizing what I’d done, being focused on whether Anthony was going to tell me to finish the water before drinking the cider. I realize this entire situation is petty, but sometimes, a girl, specifically a girl who identifies as a little, wants to test the water out and see how a man, especially one who might identify as a Daddy, will respond in certain situations. Is he a green flag or a red one? Do I keep pursuing or run away?
What I didn’t want to do was make it seem like I didn’t pay attention to him. He’d spent so much time showing me how much attention he was paying to me and then I fumble the bag.
Anthony trades the cups and takes a drink of the right one and for a moment we just stand there.
"Thank you for catching it," I say, smaller than I want my voice to be.
"You should have caught it. Not because I don’t drink alcohol, baby, but because you should be aware of what you are drinking. It’s important that you are aware of your surroundings and what you are consuming, for safety."
It's gentle. It is absolutely gentle. But it's also direct in a way that doesn't let me off the hook, and something about being held accountable without being dismissed makes my chest do something complicated and warm.
"I know," I say. "I was distracted."
"What by?"
You, I think. Obviously you.
"The market," I say. "There’s lots going on."
He looks at me for a long, specific moment. "We'll talk about it later."
We'll talk about it later.
