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“Yeah right. She’ll ban me from the kitchen and put me in charge of decorating, then immediately redo everything I’ve done. She can’t stand it when I ‘reinvent’ her precious, little traditions.”
“I think she still hasn’t recovered from the year you folded the napkins into the shape of vulvas,” I say, laughing.
“That was to celebrate the hard work being done by the women in our family, while Dad and Basile sat on their asses discussing the stock market!”
“Alright, are you done complaining? It’s Christmas! Did have a really bad night or something?”
“You really don’t wanna know, Alma.”
Lily empties half a bottle of water, and I get the feeling she’s trying to buy herself some time.
“I want to know.”
“Okay. I was with…”
Not Felix, not Felix, not Felix…
“Felix,” she blurts out.
“Lily!”
“What?”
“We said no Felix!”
“I couldn’t help it! We bumped into each other at the Barrio, danced a bit, and he offered to walk me home.”
“And?”
“And he dances really well,” she says, unable to suppress a smile.
“And then?”
“Well… we did some horizontal dancing.”
“Lily!”
She covers her eyes with both hands and collapses back into the couch cushions, a huge smile spreading across her face.
***
Even though my siblings seem determined to date people from my circle—some choices better than others—the magic of Christmas works its wonders. The Lancaster table features napkins folded the traditional way, the meal prepared by my mother is a real feast, and my father’s only task (which consists of choosing and bringing out the wines at just the right moment) has been fulfilled. The conversation is lively, punctuated by fits of laughter, heated debates, jokes that land more or less successfully, and Niels’s inappropriate remarks. He seems completely at home. That is to say, he has absolutely no filter.
Niels and my brother trade sharp quips that amuse my mother and almost manage to put my father at ease. Basile seems to take Niels as he is without trying to change him, and vice versa. My entire family appears to have been won over.
I feel a little pang of sadness thinking about the person missing from this table. Vadim is my family, too. The picture feels incomplete without him. I’d give anything to see that penetrating gaze and dazzling smile from across the room.
A joyful squeal that can only come from my sister snaps me out of it: the clock has just struck midnight, which means that it’s time for presents. The sound of wrapping paper tearing mingles with surprised oohs, and delighted ahhs, followed by thank-yous. Once again, my mother has outdone herself when it comes to spoiling everyone. I get a vanilla-colored cashmere sweater, while Lily gets the same one in neon pink. She knows us well. Niels’s eyes light up when he is handed a pretty, silver-wrapped package from the Lancasters. My friend practically bounces with excitement when he discovers a jacquard sweater, which he immediately hugs to his chest like a security blanket.
“Basile told me you like patterned sweaters,” my mother tells him, and the knowing look she exchanges with her son has us all cracking up.
After a lively game of Trivial Pursuit, Christmas Eve is wrapped up. Lily and I decide to sleep over in our childhood bedrooms, while the two lovebirds head back off on their own. At around two in the morning, I call Clémentine to tell her I miss her and wish her a Merry Christmas. Her cheerful voice reassures me a little.
The family brunch the next day brings us all together again. I count the hours, the minutes, and the seconds separating me from Vadim, finally slipping away around four in the afternoon to go see him. When he lets me into his suite, night is already beginning to fall.
“I missed you so much, Alma Lancaster.”
“No more Christmases apart, ever, Vadim King.”
