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I don’t say anything. Has my demeanor discouraged Kara from being herself around me? Or does she dial it back for some other reason, like she’s trying to be professional? She’s friends with Nash and Clara, but we don’t know each other well enough to be friendly.
“By the way,” Nash speaks up. “I’m sure Kara was going to arrange a driver to get to the airport tomorrow, but since you’ll be working with her, maybe you could just take her? It would be a nice thing to do.”
“Of course.”
“Good,” Nash nods. “And before I forget, thanks for missing your family time tonight. I know being with them for the menorah lighting is important to you, and I do feel bad since we usually divide the holidays between the two of us.”
I wave Nash’s concern away. We’ve had this discussion many times over the years, but this is the first time that Christmas and Hanukkah overlap. Today is the third night of Hanukkah, and Christmas is just a few days away.
“This is important.” My family understands how special this program is to me, and the event planners who organize it are right; people give more during the holidays. Families like Nash and Clara’s—wealthy ones who are jetting off for Christmas—will use our party as their last work obligation before they take a break to be with loved ones.
“Will you make it tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stick with us tonight. Clara will chat anyone’s ear off who steps near you so you can save your energy for tomorrow.”
As an extrovert in a company full of programmers and tech people, Nash is used to dealing with introverts. I just have to get this over with before I can rejoin my family.
I make it through the car ride and into the event for an hour or so before I break down and step outside the room. It’s eight p.m. anyway, and my family has already lit the candles and recited the blessings.
I dial my mother’s number, and she answers on the second ring, speaking in Swiss-German. “Peter, shalom. How is the party?”
“It’s fine.”
“Did you find a balcony? Or are you in the lobby?” Her voice has a slight tease to it. My mother knows me too well.
“Empty ballroom next door,” I say.
“An empty ballroom this close to the holidays?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you raised a lot of money?”
“I’m not sure. They don’t keep a running tally.”
“Did you bid on anything in the silent auction?”
“Of course. You should hope that I win. You and Papi can take an anniversary cruise.”
“It’s your money; you should go on the cruise. Bring someone special.”
There’s a moment of silence, and my mother hesitates. “Is there anyone special?”
“No,” I assure her. “It’ll just be us for the holidays.”
“If you are seeing someone, you should bring them by,” she’s quick to add.
“I know. But after last year...it’s just better if it’s us. Only family.”
“Okay.” Her voice is tinged with sadness. It’s been a tough few years for our family, and guilt tugs at me every time I think about how I was responsible for ruining our family’s Hanukkah celebrations last year.
I should have known better.
“How is Sylvie?” I ask.
Mami sighs. “She’s a teenager.”
