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“He’s inside with Grandma and Jake.” Em exchanged a look, heavy with suspicion, with Ada. “He has your friend Cass’s dog, Noelle, with him.”
I tried not to laugh. “Does he?”
The girls stared at me, and I stared at them, and we all wondered who was going to break first.
“He looks a lot like your friend Cass,” Ada said at last.
“Oh, wow. That’s a very interesting coincidence.”
“Alotlike him,” Em agreed, shooting me a look that Katya would be proud of.
“Well...you two look a lot like each other.”
“Daddy,” Ada said, slowly and carefully as though she was trying to gently lead me to a conclusion she was afraid I wouldn’t like, “Santa doesn’t have a twin brother.”
“That we know of,” I said cheerfully. “Now, let me get inside so I can sit on the couch, and we can have Cookies with Santa!”
Ben led the girls up to the porch, while I followed behind, wobbly and unsure of my crutches.
Navigating the stairs sure was fun.
“Fran!” Mom exclaimed when I got inside. “Oh, honey! Is it broken? I said it was broken, didn’t I, Jake? Is it broken?”
“It’s broken,” I said, making my way doggedly to the couch. “Mom, can you show Ben where the wrapping paper is? He needs to borrow some. And I might have invited him for Christmas tomorrow. Here, and to your house. Along with his plus one.”
Mom blinked at me rapidly. “You did?”
“I did,” I confirmed. “Because I am full of Christmas spirit.” I made it to the couch and eased myself down. “And also tramadol.”
Mom clicked her tongue and disappeared with Ben.
“Daddy, can we get the cookies now?” Ada asked.
“Yes! Cookies!” I said.
The girls scampered off toward the kitchen, leaving me and Jake staring at one another.
“Would you like a cushion?” Jake asked, gesturing at the armchair by the window, “to put your leg up?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
I propped my leg awkwardly on the coffee table, and Jake experimented with the right number of cushions, even dashing upstairs at one point to grab a pillow from my bedroom. Given it had taken him six turkeys to decide on which one we’d be eating tomorrow, I shouldn’t have been surprised that cushions were another thing he had to get exactly right. I wondered how many dick pouches Mom had knitted him for his pants handwarmer before they’d chosen the perfect one, and whether or not a spreadsheet was involved.
“Thanks, Jake,” I said, when he was finally satisfied.
“It is not a problem, Frances.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. At least he didn’t try to shake my hand like he usually did.
Cass’s dog, Noelle, wandered into the living room. She was wearing a lopsided Santa hat that got more and more lopsided with every step she took. By the time she reached me, she was wearing it as a beard and looked very startled by the fact. I took it off her and she beamed at me.
“Fran, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ben waved a couple of rolls of Christmas paper in my direction as he headed for the front door.
“Okay. Merry Christmas!”
Mom sat on the coffee table in front of me, her eyes as large as an owl’s. She stared at me, both silent and urgent, until we heard the front door click shut, and then: “What is goingon, Fran? Why is Ben here? Are you getting back together? What ishappening?”
“We’re not getting back together,” I said. “He just came for Cookies with Santa. With hisboyfriend.”
“Ben came for Cookies with Santa?” Em asked from the doorway. She paraded into the room and set a plate of cookies down on the coffee table near my foot. “Why? He’s never done that before. And why’d he leave?”
