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“Hey, Sylvie.” Kara smiles. “What’s up?”
Sylvie hesitates but then comes in holding something behind her back. “I wanted to ask you a makeup question.”
“Oh, good.” Kara gestures to my niece closer. “Lay it on me.”
Sylvie brings her hands in front of her, and my heart drops into my stomach when I recognize the packaging. “These are old, but are they still good?”
Kara takes a few of the makeup cases from her. “Oh, this is a nice brand. And unopened? Yeah, these are totally still good. Once you open them, they should still last a while.”
“Which ones would work best for me? Like how you did my makeup last night?”
Kara explains, tapping her nails on the cases as she talks, pointing out which of the makeups I bought for my niece would look good. She leans over, showing Sylvie exactly where and how to apply the makeup.
When they’re done, Sylvie hugs Kara in thanks and jumps off the bed. Before she leaves the room, though, Kara calls to her. “Hey, where did you get that makeup? I thought you said you didn’t have any.”
Sylvie glances at me, and instead of sadness, she smiles. “Uncle Peter gave it to me.”
When the door clicks shut, Kara backs up and sits against the headboard again. She nudges me with her elbow, a hint of a tease in her voice. “You gave her that stuff? It’s a nice gift. I wonder why she didn’t use it for a year.”
When she sees my face, her smile falls. Kara reaches over to rub her hand on my arm. “What happened?”
I let my head thunk back.
“Last year, around this time, I’d been seeing a woman for a few months, and I brought her for one night with my family for the lighting of the menorah. We opened our gifts, and I’d gotten Sylvie that makeup set. She was so excited, and it was perfect until later that evening in the kitchen when my girlfriend said to me that she thought it was a waste of good makeup.”
Kara gasps, and I glance at her. Her face goes from horror to indignation to sympathy. “Let me guess. Sylvie heard?”
I nod.
“Of course, she did,” Kara mutters, shifting her gaze out over our toes. “That bitch.”
The corner of my mouth flicks up in a smile. “I dumped her, obviously, but Sylvie was in such a tender spot, and it was so traumatizing. We encouraged her to try makeup, anyway, and to talk to her therapist about it. Hell,Italked to my therapist about it. I know that my girlfriend said those words, but I brought her. I was responsible for choosing to expose my family to her.”
“Peter, it’s not your fault.” Kara leans in and threads her fingers through mine.
“I know.” I squeeze my eyes tight against the heat building.
“But guilt isn’t always logical,” Kara says in understanding. She squeezes my hand. “Sylvie will be okay.”
I swallow a thick pile of gratitude that she’s here, that she’s been so kind and wonderful to my family.
“What gave you the idea to give her makeup?”
“My mother gave us all books to read about raising transgender kids and transitioning. There was a lot to learn that I couldn’t help with. But buying some nice makeup for her was something I could do. I went to a shop in Zurich, and one of the clerks helped me.” He shakes his head. “I had brought some pictures, and they did their best.”
“It was a great idea. Maybe next time, you could take her in with you and have her pick out stuff. And the staff will help her match her skin tones better if she’s there in person. And I bet she’d love spending the time with you too.”
I squeeze her hand and open my mouth to thank her, but I’m cut off.
“Uncle Peter,” Noah shouts from below. “Grosi says you have ten minutes.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, letting go of Kara’s hand and running both of mine over my face. “I better shower.”
We can seethe glow and hear the market before we turn the last corner. Kara’s hand is in mine, keeping us together while we move with the crowd that separates us from the rest of my family. Noah was bouncing off the walls, excited to “celebrate Christmas,” and my dad grumbled the entire walk over about Christmas taking over December. It’s not as busy as it usually is since there aren’t many tourists, but there are still plenty of people excited to be outside after the storm.
“Oh my god,” Kara says when the market comes into view. “It’s so quaint.”
Big, warm lights string from tree to tree and over rooftops. There are piles of snow banking the square, but the interior is cleared and well-trodden. The air smells of thick spices and sugar. I stop to buy us two mugs of glühwein, the hot mulled wine that Kara says smells like Christmas in a cup.
