“Are you okay?” I asked, stepping outside and shutting the door behind me.
With the stores all closed, the street was quieter than usual. There was no trace of the wind that had rattled my bedroom window overnight and found its way into my tornadic dreams. Now the sky was blue and the air felt crisp and pollution-free, as if New Jersey had finally settled on an ideal autumn day now that it was winter.
“Here,” Calvin mumbled, shoving a box at me. “Merry Christmas.”
The box, which was crushed in one corner, contained a Christmas tree ornament visible behind a layer of clear plastic. Painted on the large silver ball was the face of Rudolph with his red nose. Beside the reindeer was the word Joy.
“Wow,” I said, without overdoing it. I didn’t want to condescend. This was a sweet gesture from a kid who didn’t specialize in sweet gestures. “This is great. Thanks so much.”
“You can hang it on your tree,” he said.
“I sure will.” He didn’t need to know I had no tree. He might break into someone’s home and steal one.
His mission done, Calvin now stood stiffly, hands in pockets, unsure what to do or say next. I asked him, “So what do you guys have planned for today?”
“Going to my cousins’ in Kearny,” he said.
“Is that good?”
He exhaled wearily. “It is what it is.”
Calvin’s sincere tree ornament, I realized, would be the only present I received this year. But even sadder was how many presents I had planned to give to others. A fat zero.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” I said.
“You just—” He stopped himself.
“Nice catch,” I said. “So you gave that girl some records, right? Which means you also like records? Like on vinyl?”
“Yeah,” he said, “but not for some hipster bullshit reason. Vinyl just sounds better.”
“Hang on a sec.” I went back inside and returned a minute later. “Merry Christmas,” I said, handing him the three remaining quarters of the hundred-dollar bill. “Go buy yourself some records. You’ll have to tape the bill together first, obviously.”
He stared down at the pieces of bill in his hands. I was afraid he might start to cry.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I’m so stupid.”
“What?”
He shook his head angrily, as if trying to unloosen something. “I lost the other piece!”
Then I got to reveal that wonderful, little-known fact about American paper currency: more than half a bill and it’s legal tender.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Positive.” I warned him that a merchant would probably be suspicious when he handed over three-quarters of a taped-up hundred-dollar bill. “But the law’s on your side,” I said. “And you can always take it to a bank, where they’ll exchange it for a clean one.”
“Which bank?”
“Any bank.”
He studied the torn pieces in his hands as if trying to master the idea of them being real. Then he looked at me and smirked.
“Sucker!” he said.
“What?”
“Now I don’t have to shovel.”
“Hey, man, a deal’s a deal.”
As he was waving the pieces of money in front of my face, Ellen’s Prius pulled up behind my car on the street. Calvin stuffed the money into his pocket while we watched her get out of her car. She had on her trench coat, blue jeans, and a stylish wool brim hat.
Calvin’s eyes widened. “Nice,” he said, loud enough for her to hear. “You know her?”
“She’s a friend of mine,” I said.
When she got near, he said, “You two want to smoke up later?” He was Cool Calvin again, any trace of sadness or insecurity gone from his voice. “I can get us weed from my cousin in Kearny.”
“Definitely not,” I said.
Ellen gave him a quick once-over. “Good-bye, little boy.” She flicked her fingers at him.
Calvin’s face reddened.
“See ya, Calvin,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”
He gave Ellen an angry glance before turning toward the street and shuffling away, his mind full of tall mountains and weed, or vinyl records, or flaming excrement, or maybe nothing at all.
After calling in the pizza order, I opened a bottle of better-than-usual cabernet, poured two glasses, and told Ellen I wanted to show her something. She followed me over to the bistro table, where I dealt out four hands, using the Greek deal to give myself two aces.
“Not bad,” she said.
“You know it’s better than that,” I said.
“Keep practicing with those oven-mitt hands of yours,” she said, “and in another ten years you might really have something.”
I knew Ellen was only ribbing me, but her words stung. Maybe because I’d been riding the high of impulsively giving Calvin a much larger gift than I could afford and he could have expected.
“What?” she said, reading my face. “I said it wasn’t bad.” She drank some wine. “Coming from me, those words are probably the best compliment you ever received.”
“Because your own skills are so amazing, you mean.”
“Actually, yes.” She smiled. “That’s exactly what I mean. This wine is good.”
“You know Ace said the same thing about his skills.”
Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s a low blow. You saw me at the card table.”
“I did. And you know how highly I think of your talent.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“But.”
Her eyes narrowed. I couldn’t tell if she was just playing anymore. “But what?”
I couldn’t tell if I was either. “Nothing,” I said. “Really.”
“No, what?”
I hesitated a moment. “Your deal wasn’t perfect. I’m just saying.”
Ellen set down her wineglass. “My deal is perfect.”
Maybe I’d overstepped, but false dealing was her livelihood. I hadn’t meant to insult her—yet did it hurt to be honest? “At the poker table in Atlantic City?” The wine was helping with honesty. “It was a wonderful deal, don’t get me wrong. I’d never seen the Greek deal before, and it caught me off guard. But don’t forget: I saw something. I still caught
