“How about saving that for tomorrow? Will the invitation still be good?”
“Sure? Why … do you have to go now?” Maybe he was in a hurry, and thus the suggestion of pizza. Her face suddenly fell, and she tried to look as though nothing had happened. But she wanted him to stay. It had been such a nice evening.
“No, I don’t have to go. But I just had an idea. Want to go skating?”
“I’d love it.”
She put another sweater on over the one she already wore, thick red wool socks, brown suede boots, and buried herself in a lynx jacket and hat.
“Kezia, you look like someone in a movie.” She had the kind of beauty which appealed to him. Luke was a damn lucky man.
She told the answering service when they’d be back, in case Lucas called, and together they braved the biting night air. There was no wind, only a bitter frost which seared the lungs and eyes.
They stopped for hamburgers and hot tea, and she laughed as he told her of the chaos of Christmas in a Mexican home. A thousand children underfoot and all the women cooking, their husbands drunk, and parties in every home. She told him the things she had liked about her Christmases as a child.
“You know, I never got the purple-sequined gold dress.” She still looked almost surprised. She had seen it in a magazine when she was six, and had written all about it to Santa.
“What did you get instead? A mink coat?” He said it teasingly, without malice.
“No, darling, a Rolls.” She looked down her nose at him from beneath the big furry hat.
“And a chauffeur, of course.”
“No, I didn’t get him till I was seven. My own, of course, with two liveried footmen.” She giggled at him again from under the hat. “Shit Alejandro, they used to drop me three blocks from school when I was a kid, and then follow me. But I had to walk the last bit of the way because they didn’t think it was cool for me to arrive at school with a chauffeur.”
“That’s funny. My parents felt the same way. I had to walk too. It’s really rough what kids have to go through, isn’t it?” His eyes laughingly mocked her.
“Oh shut up.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Plumes of frost flew from his mouth in the cold night air.
“Kezia, I love you. You are really one crazy lady.”
“Maybe I am.” She was thinking of Lucas.
“Man, I wish I had bought some tequila. It’s gonna be colder than shit on the ice.” She giggled at him then, looking like a child with a secret. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny. Me, I’m not wearing fur, and if I fall on my ass, which I will, I’ll wind up with a good case of frostbite.” She giggled again, and with a white cashmere mittened hand pulled a fiat silver flask from her pocket. “What’s that?”
“Instant insulation. Cognac. The flask was my grandfather’s.”
“The dude was no dummy. That’s a mighty thin flask. Hell, you could wear that in your suit and no one would spot it … pretty cool.” Arm in arm, they walked into the park, and began to sing “Silent Night.” She unscrewed the cap on the flask and they each took a sip before she put it back in her pocket, feeling much better. It was one of those rare nights in New York when the city seemed to shrink. Cars had all but disappeared, buses seemed quieter and fewer, people were no longer rushing and actually took the extra second or two to smile at passersby. Everyone was either at home or away, or hiding from the fierce winter cold, but here and there groups were walking or singing. Kezia and Alejandro smiled at the other couples they passed, and now and then someone joined in their songs. By the time they got on the ice at the skating rink they had all but exhausted their collective knowledge of Christmas carols, and had had several sips from the flask.
“That’s what I like, a woman who travels equipped. A flask full of cognac. Yep, you are crazy … but good crazy, definitely good crazy.” He sailed past her on the ice with a broad grin, intending to show off, and winding up instead on his ass.
“Mister, I think you’re drunk.”
“You ought to know, you’re my barman.” He grinned at her good-humoredly as he got up.
“Want some more?”
“No. I just joined A.A.”
“Party pooper.”
“Lush.”
They laughed at each other, sang “Deck the Halls,” and skated a few turns arm in arm. The rink was almost deserted, and the other skaters shared in the Christmas spirit. The piped music was merry and light, carols intermingled with waltzes. It was a beautiful night. And it was past eleven before they decided they’d had enough. Despite the cognac, their faces were numb from the cold.
“How about midnight mass at Saint Patrick’s? Or would that be a bad trip? You’re not Catholic, are you?”
“Nope. Episcopal, but I have nothing against Saint Patrick’s. Your mass isn’t that different from ours. I’d really enjoy it.” There was a moment of worry in her face, as she thought of missing a call from Luke. But the prospect of church appealed to her, and Alejandro swept her along. He suspected what she’d been thinking. And going home to sit by the phone would negate all they’d done. It was turning into a passable Christmas, and he wasn’t going to let her spoil it. Even for Luke.
They walked down a deserted Fifth Avenue, past all the ornate window dressings, the lights and the trees. It had a carnival air. Saint Patrick’s was jammed, hot, and smelled strongly of incense. They wedged their bodies in way at the back of the church; they could not approach the front pews, short of standing on shoulders and walking on heads. People had come from miles. Midnight mass at Saint Patrick’s was a tradition for many.
The organ was somber and majestic, the church dark except for the light shed by thousands of candles. It was a high mass, and one-thirty when they got out.
“Tired?” He held her arm as they made their way down the steps. The cold air was a shock after the scented warmth of the church.
“More like sleepy. I think it’s the incense.”
“Of course the cognac and the skating have nothing to do with it.” His eyes laughed at her, but kindly.
He hailed a cab, and the doorman at her place lurched his way to the door.
“Looks like he’s been having a good time.”
“So would you if you raked in as much money as he and the other guys do. They each get an envelope from everyone in the building.” She thought of what Alejandro must make at the center and cringed at the comparison. “Want to come up for a drink?”
“I shouldn’t….” He knew she was tired.
“But you will. Come on, Al, don’t be a drag.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay for a minute, and have a bite of the fruit salad.”
“Touch my wreath and you’ll regret it! And don’t say I didn’t warn you!” She brandished the nearly empty flask at him and he ducked. They giggled sleepily as they walked out of the elevator arm in arm. The apartment was warm and cozy and the tree looked pretty all lit up in the corner. She went out to the kitchen, as he sat down on the couch.
“Hey Kezia!”
“What?”
“Make that another hot chocolate!” He had had more than enough cognac, and so had she.
“I was.”
She came out with two steaming cups covered with rapidly dissolving marshmallows, and they sat side by side on the floor, looking up at the tree.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Vidal.”
“Merry Christmas, Miss Saint Martin.” It was a solemn moment, and for what felt like a very long time neither spoke. Their thoughts were drifting separately to other people, other years, and in their own ways, they each found their minds wandering back to Luke and the present.
“You know what you ought to do, Alejandro?”
“What?” He had stretched out on the floor, his eyes closed, his heart warm. He was growing very fond of her and he was glad he had made a change of plans. This was turning into a beautiful Christmas. “What should I do?”
“Sleep on the couch. It seems stupid for you to go all the way uptown at this hour. I’ll give you some sheets and a blanket and you can stay here.” And then I won’t have to wake up in an empty house tomorrow morning, and we can giggle and laugh, and go for a walk in the park. Please, please stay … please….