The outdoor light flicked on and off, and I cringed. “That’s not terribly subtle, is it?”
Pete grinned. “I guess that’s our cue.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your parents.”
“Father. Only my father would do something like that.”
“And I can’t blame him. If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, I would be watching your every move from that living room window…through binoculars.”
Pete walked me to the door. “Goodnight.” He moved a stray tendril away from my eyes. “And goodnight, Mr. Trapani,” he muttered quietly over his shoulder.
I laughed and let myself in the door.
27
White Christmas
“There are only ten shopping days until Christmas,” Pete said though the phone. “Whatcha getting me?”
I grinned into the mouthpiece, which I had wedged between my shoulder and ear as I painted my toenails bright red. “None of your beeswax.”
“I’ll take a copy of the new Police album, a six-pack of Beck’s and hmm, how about you make yourself available for my sexual amusement every day?”
“Done.” I smiled, the phone almost slipping off my shoulder.
“Wow, you’re easy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. My turn now. First, I’d like to be taken to a fancy dinner followed by a movie with my handsome boyfriend—just the two of us. Plus a new car for when I get my license. A Porsche 911 with a whale-tail will do nicely. And let’s see, oh yes, a diamond ring, since that is my birthstone.”
“That doesn’t seem too extravagant. I think I can swing it.”
“Perfect.”
“I have to go, my mom’s calling me for dinner,” Pete said. “Rrrr rrrr rrrr.”
I laughed. That was our code for “I love you” when parents were listening in. “Rrrr rrrr rrrr back atcha.”
I replaced the cap on the polish, and admired my gleaming toenails. Red for Christmas. I quivered, thinking about the upcoming holiday. I couldn’t wait to give Pete his gifts and open his to me. This year promised to be much better than last...running into Alec Mays at the department store and the terrible way that ended. I shook my head, preferring to stay in the present.
I meandered into the kitchen and helped my mom finish making supper. I could tell my father was in one of his dark moods, and he’d already downed a few cocktails, which meant I better tread lightly.
After starting in on the wine at dinner, he criticized my mother about not ironing his shirts the way he liked and complained her knitting projects cluttered up the house. He followed that up with a lecture about my future—railing on about good grades, college applications and retirement accounts. My mother ate quietly, looking apologetic. It was another banner evening around the Trapani dinner table.
§§
School closed for the holidays, giving us a two-week break from the grind and also cheerleading. With football season over, our squad prepared cheering at basketball games beginning in January. It better cause less friction with Pete than football. Not knowing a single basketball player should help my cause.
Vacation meant I could hang out with my friends and boyfriend, plus Christmas was my favorite holiday. I couldn’t wait to decorate the tree, help my mom bake the Italian S cookies and exchange gifts with everyone.
Our first week off, Mary and I went shopping for last-minute presents, baked goodies at Jaime’s house and caught a matinee. At night, our group partied in our secret spots throughout the Oakland hills.
A few days before Christmas, we gathered at Reese’s after his father left for an overnight business trip. The beer flowed and spirits were high. Reese, Pete and Jim were in the living room smoking a joint from a bag of weed Tez had scored. The girls hung out in the adjoining dining room playing Pass-Out. Not that we needed any help getting drunk, but this board game made it fun.
We set up the game, snickering at the sentence printed on the box top stating, Not intended for use with alcoholic beverages. Who were they kidding? The object was to drink enough booze until someone passed out!
Mary rolled the dice and moved her red piece seven spaces. She landed on the square ordering her to draw a Pass-Out card, which indicated she must Repent and join the prophets plus lose a turn.
“I have nothing to repent!” she said.
Jaime went next, moving two spaces to the square instructing her to Light up.
“I doubt they mean cigarettes, but that’s what I’m smoking.” She flicked her lighter and ignited one of her narrow Virginia Slims.
I rolled a five, my marker landing on a square that read, Take a drink. I took a swig of beer, recoiling from the bitterness and sick to death of the cheap brewskis we always drank.
Reese walked through the dining room with a few bottles of liquor. “Anyone want a real drink?”
“Hella. You’re a lifesaver!” I said.
“I do, honeybuns,” Jaime said.
I poured myself a large gin and tonic and returned to the living room. Jaime followed after draping herself across Reese and kissing him.
Most of the tiles directed a player to drink or draw a card. Like Monopoly, there was a corner square no one wanted to land on. Instead of jail, it was a bar, and you had to roll a seven or eleven in three turns to get out.
A few turns later, my blue game piece landed on a corner instructing All take three drinks. I raised my drink. “Woo-hoo! Everybody drinks!”
Jaime passed GO first, earning her a Pink Elephant card containing a tongue twister to be recited three times to advance. “Theophilus the
