I hadn’t expected to feel from such a
simple complement.
“There are a few gay men in our neighborhood,” Rachel went on to explain. “Our
neighbors are a nice couple from Louisiana. They have a really great dog too. I’m going to
miss him when I leave.”
“Leave?” I asked. “Where are you going?”
Holiday Outing
91
“To college,” she said, rolling her eyes. I felt shocked by this. Of course I knew she was
eighteen but somehow the fact that my little cousin was already college bound seemed
surreal.
“What school?”
“I got accepted at the University of New Hampshire, but I’ve applied for scholarships
and am hoping to go to Reed in Oregon.”
“Reed’s a good school,” I said.
She nodded. “I just want to get away.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
Rachel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway -- it’s not like I’m going to be missed here.”
“That can’t be true,” I said, although the self-pitying spiel sounded a lot like something
I would say -- something I had said.
“My dad’s ignored me ever since my mother died. He doesn’t even discipline me
anymore. Last month I was out all night and never told him where I went, and he didn’t
even care. It’s like I don’t exist. Even my feelings about the things we share -- my mom’s
stuff, the pictures -- it doesn’t matter.”
I nodded, and she continued, but I only half listened. I realized that my quiet,
withdrawn cousin had a secret motive for taking the pushke as well. She had been shocked
when she learned he was giving it away. Maybe she took it, just to spite her father? To get
the attention she clearly craved? Or to claim the right to something she thought of as her
inheritance?
When my father and Uncle Al returned from their voyage across the frozen landscape,
their moods had soured. They must have fought the entire time, and the Dektors, their own
situation equally precarious, only provided a few candles, one roll of toilet paper, and a bottle
of Maneschewitz.
92
Astrid Amara
“You should see the main arterial!” my father complained. “There are cars stuck in the
ditches with ice over their windows. George’s son works at the police department and said
they are urging everyone to stay at home until the roads are plowed.”
“That’s not what he said,” my uncle complained. “You are misquoting people again.
You always do that!”
“I do not,” my father replied. “You just can’t hear, that’s your problem.”
“I hear fine! You warp the truth! Always it is like this with you!”
I left the two of them arguing to have a smoke and wondered how much longer we
would be able to endure each other’s company without relations deteriorating completely.
At least I had Ethan. I took a drag and smiled to myself. Something good had come out
of this, at the very least.
Given that my father and my uncle were now at war, and everyone else seemed to be
huddling away from the tension near the fireplace, I found it easy to escape to my room
without guilt or detection. I wondered how quietly Ethan and I could fuck. I wanted to see if
he would be up to it. I grinned as I walked into my bedroom, and saw Ethan lying on the
bed, finally getting a connection on his cell phone.
“I love you too.” Ethan’s voice was low and husky. He looked away from me, but
smiled sappily.
“Yeah,” Ethan continued. “Jonah? He’s fine.” Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know…I don’t
know. I guess. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Numbness, leftover from the cold outside, leftover from high school, leftover from my
birth. A numb nothingness. Goddamn it, I had let that bastard hope inside, hadn’t I?
Ethan glanced at me. He sat up immediately. “Gotta go. Yeah. Okay. Love you too.
’Bye.” He shut the phone and stared at me.
I stared back. I wanted to punch him, but instead I just crossed my arms.
Ethan held his phone up. “Phone’s working again.” He smiled.
Holiday
simple complement.
“There are a few gay men in our neighborhood,” Rachel went on to explain. “Our
neighbors are a nice couple from Louisiana. They have a really great dog too. I’m going to
miss him when I leave.”
“Leave?” I asked. “Where are you going?”
Holiday Outing
91
“To college,” she said, rolling her eyes. I felt shocked by this. Of course I knew she was
eighteen but somehow the fact that my little cousin was already college bound seemed
surreal.
“What school?”
“I got accepted at the University of New Hampshire, but I’ve applied for scholarships
and am hoping to go to Reed in Oregon.”
“Reed’s a good school,” I said.
She nodded. “I just want to get away.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
Rachel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway -- it’s not like I’m going to be missed here.”
“That can’t be true,” I said, although the self-pitying spiel sounded a lot like something
I would say -- something I had said.
“My dad’s ignored me ever since my mother died. He doesn’t even discipline me
anymore. Last month I was out all night and never told him where I went, and he didn’t
even care. It’s like I don’t exist. Even my feelings about the things we share -- my mom’s
stuff, the pictures -- it doesn’t matter.”
I nodded, and she continued, but I only half listened. I realized that my quiet,
withdrawn cousin had a secret motive for taking the pushke as well. She had been shocked
when she learned he was giving it away. Maybe she took it, just to spite her father? To get
the attention she clearly craved? Or to claim the right to something she thought of as her
inheritance?
When my father and Uncle Al returned from their voyage across the frozen landscape,
their moods had soured. They must have fought the entire time, and the Dektors, their own
situation equally precarious, only provided a few candles, one roll of toilet paper, and a bottle
of Maneschewitz.
92
Astrid Amara
“You should see the main arterial!” my father complained. “There are cars stuck in the
ditches with ice over their windows. George’s son works at the police department and said
they are urging everyone to stay at home until the roads are plowed.”
“That’s not what he said,” my uncle complained. “You are misquoting people again.
You always do that!”
“I do not,” my father replied. “You just can’t hear, that’s your problem.”
“I hear fine! You warp the truth! Always it is like this with you!”
I left the two of them arguing to have a smoke and wondered how much longer we
would be able to endure each other’s company without relations deteriorating completely.
At least I had Ethan. I took a drag and smiled to myself. Something good had come out
of this, at the very least.
Given that my father and my uncle were now at war, and everyone else seemed to be
huddling away from the tension near the fireplace, I found it easy to escape to my room
without guilt or detection. I wondered how quietly Ethan and I could fuck. I wanted to see if
he would be up to it. I grinned as I walked into my bedroom, and saw Ethan lying on the
bed, finally getting a connection on his cell phone.
“I love you too.” Ethan’s voice was low and husky. He looked away from me, but
smiled sappily.
“Yeah,” Ethan continued. “Jonah? He’s fine.” Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know…I don’t
know. I guess. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Numbness, leftover from the cold outside, leftover from high school, leftover from my
birth. A numb nothingness. Goddamn it, I had let that bastard hope inside, hadn’t I?
Ethan glanced at me. He sat up immediately. “Gotta go. Yeah. Okay. Love you too.
’Bye.” He shut the phone and stared at me.
I stared back. I wanted to punch him, but instead I just crossed my arms.
Ethan held his phone up. “Phone’s working again.” He smiled.
Holiday
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