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“I had to crochet them quickly, so if you see an ugly stitch, look away,” Devin says with a laugh, her eyes dancing.
It might be the first time that anyone has actually created something for me. It does not matter that the sock is strange and small and will not fit my big mesakkah foot with its splayed toes. It does not matter that there is only one and thus my other foot would get cold. It was made specifically for me, and I love it. “It is the best thing I have ever seen.”
Devin gives me an odd look, but her smile remains.
The flat, painted ornaments go on the tree next, but they’re so heavy that they weigh the fragile branches down. Liesje has the idea to hang them from the ceiling instead, and so we take a bit of clear plas-wire and I hang ornament after ornament above our heads. They hit my horns, as I’m quite a bit taller than the other two, but they both look so happy that I’m willing to duck for the rest of the day.
“While you’re hanging things, we need this, too,” Liesje pronounces. She hands me a small bundle of herbs from her kitchen and wraps them with a red string fished out of the decorating box.
“For the smell?” I ask, because I don’t recall hearing of herb-hanging in any of Devin’s explanations.
Liesje smirks. “No, my boy, this can be our mistletoe. It’s for you and your lady, so you two can quit flirting and just kiss already.” And she holds it out to me and shakes it.
I take it from her, confused. “I do not know this tradition. Explain it to me and why it would make Devin wish to kiss me?”
“You can kiss her,” Liesje says. “If you catch someone under the mistletoe, you kiss them.”
Now this is intriguing. Not in the kissing part, but in the fact that Devin omitted it. “Is that so? What happens if you fail to kiss?”
“Bad luck. So much bad luck,” Liesje says.
“Nothing,” Devin immediately corrects, moving across the room and distinctly away from me. “Nothing happens at all. It’s just an old custom. I’m just fine without being groped, thank you very much. You want a cup of tea, Liesje? I could use a hot beverage.”
I watch her retreat, curious. The more she acts like she doesn’t want to kiss me, the more I’m intrigued by it. Is it because it’s me? Or because she doesn’t like kissing? If it’s the latter, maybe she’s the right sort of female for me after all.
This isn’t helping my infatuation. Why is it I’m more interested the less she wishes to kiss me?
* * *
It’ssomething I think about for the rest of the afternoon. Once the decorating is done and the tree is pronounced “festive,” we share a cup of tea and some cookies that Devin brought with her. They’re not as good as the cookies made by Rektar’s wife, Lucy, but I don’t point this out. Devin hugs Liesje and promises to return tomorrow with the rest of the holiday presents and a festive meal. Liesje’s response is less enthusiastic, but she’s smiling.
I take Devin and her creature home in my air-sled, and instead of her normal chatter, she’s silent. Is she thinking about the kiss and the herbs too? Or is it something else?
“Thanks for the ride,” she tells me when we pull up to her farm.
I grunt an answer, still watching her. “I will return in the morning to pick you up.”
Her expression turns to one of surprise. “Oh, are you coming back?”
“Do you not wish for me to come back?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No, that wasn’t what I meant at all. I’m just surprised. You don’t have to, and I’m sure you’re busy.”
“If this is a holiday celebrated amongst friends, I would like to be there. What should I bring for a present for Liesje? Tomorrow we bestow gifts, yes?”
“I’m sure you don’t have to bring anything—”
“But that is not how the holiday works, is it? Everyone exchanges gifts.”
She squirms in her seat, stroking her rodent’s head. “I guess you’re right. I’m not sure what you could get her. Food, maybe? Noodles?”
“Noodles is a terrible gift. Would you be excited to get noodles?”
“Well, no.” Devin shrugs. “But you already got her a tree.”
“The tree was decoration. I will have to think of something else.” I eye her. “I did not realize you were so bad at gifts.”
Her face flushes with color. “You got me. I was the one that always gave gift cards back home. I’m not the most thoughtful person.”
