Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
She nodded but ruined it by rushing forward and hugging both me and Kurt. He started crying, and then she started crying, and it was a mess. Thank God Brad took that moment to remind Thomasin that she was supposed to be making sandwiches.
“I’ll make them,” he offered, “if you’re in the middle of some kind of emotional catharsis over there.”
“I’ll do it since you make the world’s worst sandwiches,” she snarled at him.
“Do I make bad sandwiches?” he asked the boys.
“Oh yeah,” Toby agreed. “Really, really bad. I didn’t know you could mess up peanut butter and jelly, but you do, Dad.”
“They’re either slimy with too much jelly or super dry with the peanut butter,” Dennis let him know. “Please don’t make anything. Uncle Kurt says George can’t boil water, but I bet even he makes better stuff.”
“I’m sorry?” I said to Kurt. “I can cook.”
He shook his head. “No. Not at all. And reheating and using the microwave don’t count.”
“I think that counts,” I assured him.
“It doesn’t,” Thomasin seconded. “Now, who wants a sandwich?”
We all did.
It was strange.
After lunch, everyone sat down and looked uncomfortable. Even Kurt.
“What’s happening?” I asked the guy I was going to marry.
“I’m sorry?”
I gestured at Brad, who was staring out the window, and at Thomasin, who was fiddling with ornaments on the tree, and at Dennis and Toby, who were sitting on the couch, Dennis pulling on a thread on his sweater and Toby drawing on his sneaker with a Sharpie.
“What are you all doing?”
“Well, at home on Christmas Eve, we drop off gifts and go to a party,” Kurt reminded me.
“Yeah. So?”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing to do here.”
I glanced at Thomasin. “And you?”
“We carol, like I told you earlier, and then when we get back, there’s a party to host where I normally have everyone make cookies, and then we go to church.”
“Okay.”
“It just feels strange.”
I turned to Brad.
“It’s normally just planned chaos,” he said, “and it’s exhausting, but these are the things we do every year, so it’s weird not to have to go anywhere.”
I looked to the boys last.
“Is this normal?” Toby asked me. “People sit around and do nothing?”
“Holy shit,” I said to all of them. “You see the dogs and the cat?”
All eyes turned to Geri and Freki, who were spread out in front of the fire, sleeping. Bubs was right there with them, stretched out nearest the wood-burning heat source.
“You guys don’t know how to winter.”
There was silence for a moment.
“I’m not trying to tell you your business,” Toby began, “but winter isn’t a verb.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “It’s a noun.”
“It’s not, though. You all need to stop and enjoy the season. It’s for resting.”
Thomasin scoffed. “Winter is not for resting.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” She sounded horrified. “George, there is Christmas, and then New Year’s, and there’s so much to do for both, and then cleaning and organizing and—”
“Winter is a slow time,” I told her. “Your brain needs to take a break, eat, sleep, do nothing but veg. That’s what wintering is. It’s what Kurt said the other day.”
“I…no.” She shook her head.
“Yes,” I insisted. “And maybe not last year, and maybe not next year, but this year, you’re gonna winter with me.”
“No.”
It was my turn to scoff. “What else are you gonna do?”
She thought a moment.
“Wait,” Brad said, and I noticed then that while he was a big man, six feet four, with broad shoulders and a wide chest, he was a soft man. And by soft I meant he had the hands of a man who worked inside, with a computer. He had kind eyes and a quick smile and a flannel-and-jeans way about him. He didn’t seem the kind to raise his voice, or a hand, to anyone. I could see why Thomasin had been attracted to him after having a horror show of a father. He was as different as a man could be.
All the men I called friends were not soft in any way. They were hard-muscled, hard-eyed, and had sharp tongues and carried sharp weapons. I myself was not soft in any way except one, and that was in my desire to winter, which required pillows and blankets, things that promoted rest.
“We can’t just do nothing,” Brad informed me.
I grinned at him.
“But that’s just…crazy.”
“We’re gonna watch movies,” I told him. “And play games.”
“Games? What kind of games?”
“We’re gonna start with Mario Kart and other nonviolent, family-friendly games. I see charades in our future, and trivia.”
“I thought you didn’t like trivia because you didn’t wanna wear a bowling shirt?” Dennis asked me.
“I think you only got a piece of that conversation, buddy.”
“Maybe,” he agreed.
“And Monopoly,” I told Kurt.
“No, I hate Monopoly.”
I shrugged.
“Wait, I—”
“First off, we’re gonna watch movies. Boys? Suggestions?”
It turned out, in a horrifying discovery, the boys had never seen Elf. Worse, they’d never seen Die Hard, which Kurt insisted was not a Christmas movie, and I agreed that after the day before, we didn’t need to watch that one. They’d also never seen Home Alone or A Christmas Story, and I assured Thomasin and Brad that they were bad parents.