Page 37 of Go Back to December

“It’s normal to feel that way about those you love,” I say. “And I think he worries about all of you too.”

“Thank you for saying that. Things have been hard for us.”

“Holidays don’t make it any easier.”

Marie waltzes in, head high in her new coat. She retrieves another tray of puffed food, and marches out into the party.

Sofia’s lips curve at the transformation. “Come on, the White Elephant is starting soon. This is one game I insist you play with us.”

Luiza stares at me, jaw set, brown eyes charged. It reminds me so much of Baz; I search her neck for a throbbing vein.

This moment is the true test of the evening. It is the ultimate play of the White Elephant battle that has raged for the last hour. The gift exchange is the chief attraction of the Johnson Christmas Eve fête. Top players from each casino table earn a spot, and the previous year’s winners supply the gifts. Presents must be items made or found in the winner’s homes.

The grand prize—which is the only unwrapped gift, because of its gangly nature—is a replica of the leg lamp from A Christmas Story. It spent much of the night in the clutches of Peter’s cousin, who happens to be a priest. That image will live rent-free in my brain forever.

Now, the lamp rests in Luiza’s hands.

Per Baz’s orders, I’ve dodged her and the eggnog, but this is unavoidable. I suspect Sofia set me up, arranging for Luiza to get the penultimate gift, and for me to draw the final number, to prove she is Mother of Baz, the Original Gangsta of manipulation.

No one expects me to hold on to the six-pack of dish sponges I unwrapped as my present. All eyes are on that lamp.

I want it. Badly.

Of course, I can’t take it. Letting Luiza win is the smart play here. It’s the only hustle I’ll make tonight. Plus, I don’t have an apartment of my own to house the lamp. And when I finally get that apartment, I’m not sure I can live with a daily reminder of Baz staring me in the face.

In the end, I swap my sponges for the small carved wooden box labeled AMMO that I practically have to rip out of the priest’s hands.

The crowd erupts in claps and cheers, and Luiza lifts the lamp overhead like it’s the Wimbledon trophy as she jogs a victory lap around the fireplace.

The priest says to me, “I had you pinned for a fighter.”

“Oh, I am,” I murmur, watching Luiza. “Where in the world did someone find that thing?”

“You’ll have to ask Baz. He sourced it for the sixth-grade class play.”

Please, baby Jesus, let there be photos.

Luiza darts in between us and skips past the Christmas tree, cutting close to a limb. An ornament tumbles and smashes on the hardwood floor.

I crouch down and pick up the two halves of a pottery bear, dressed in a lab coat and stethoscope.

“Oh.”

This one syllable silences everyone.

Or perhaps it’s the expression on Sofia’s face. The brightness that fills her eyes as she stares at the broken ornament.

“Mamá!” Luiza rushes over and her breath catches. “Allie’s bear.”

Allie.

The grave glances around the room are infinitely sadder than Dr. Money Honey’s when she mentioned her friend from medical school.

“I’ll throw it out,” Sofia says.

“No, wait, Mamá. We can fix it.”

“Don’t bother.” Sofia turns and walks toward the kitchen.