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I was surprised when he came home earlier this evening and told me we were going out. And now that I’m looking at these crowds, I’m even more surprised.
Dom slides his hand up my back and around my shoulders. “I know there are a lot of people here. But a hundred of them are mine.”
“A hundred?”
He nods. “Half of them are around the perimeter, and half are walking through the crowd.”
I’m tempted to ask him if they know who they’re looking for. But I don’t.
* * *
I shake my head.“I cannot eat another bite.”
Bibi laughs. “Okay, fine. We’ll just hop in line and meet you back here.”
She gestures to the pretzel stand a few stalls down before she and one of Dom’s aunties wander that way.
Between the donuts, mulled wine, bratwurst, stollen, and hot chocolate, I don’t know where the tiny woman plans to put another bite.
A stand with brightly painted wooden bowls is just on the other side of the aisle, so I step over to it while I wait for the ladies to get their food.
The colors on all the pieces are amazing, but my fingers trace over the surface of one bowl that’s been painted to look like intertwined stained-glass stars.
I pick it up, turning it around slowly, taking in the blues and golds.
There is literally no reason I need this hand-painted serving bowl, but I still flip it over to check the price written on the sticker on the bottom.
I nearly put it back, the price being higher than I’d usually allow myself to spend on something like this, but then I remember the eighty thousand dollars that just got added to my bank account and decidefuck it.
“I’d like this one, please,” I tell the woman behind the display, handing her the bowl and my debit card.
Dominic broke off from us a little while ago to wander with one of his uncles. He didn’t really give a reason why they couldn’t just walk with us, but his mom’s need to stop and look at every single ornament probably had something to do with it.
The woman wraps the bowl in brown paper, then slides it into a plain white bag.
I thank her and tuck my card back into my wallet, then hold the bag in one hand and my purse in the other.
My feet turn me the wrong way at first, and I only notice when I don’t see the pretzel stand, so I stop and turn back the other way. Except when I spot the pretzels, I don’t see Bibi.
Excusing myself as I bump into someone, I walk past the stand. But they aren’t there.
I spin around.
Maybe they went to find me.
But I didn’t see them walking over here.
I take a few steps.
What if I’m going the wrong way?
I stop.
They didn’t leave.
I say it to myself again.
They didn’t leave.
