Home for the Holidays

Dominick

Man, what a day. I finish my slice of pizza, then pick up my beer. At least I found a great pizza joint nearby. I drain the glass and set it aside. Picking up the ticket, I head to the cashier. Much as I would like to linger over another beer, I still need to finish getting my bed put together before I can call it a day. It'll take me days to get it all put away. But at least everything is in.

I head down the street, back to my new home. Things are looking up. I found a great place that is a short bus ride away from my work. There is a great pizza place nearby. I just need to deal with my mother on Friday.

Man, that is going to suck.

Entering the building, I find my new neighbor sitting on the steps. Getting closer, I spot the lines of mascara running down her cheeks. Her eyes are red and her face splotchy from a long crying jag.

“Hey, you okay?”

She blearily looks up at me and slurs, “Not really. I hate men.”

“Surely not all men?”

“You’re one of them.”

“That goes without saying.”

Ally hiccups and wipes at her cheeks, smearing the mascara even more, “Figures you would take their side.”

I have no idea what she is even talking about, but shrug, “Sorry. Can’t help it. I am a guy.”

She lifts a bottle I missed earlier and takes a shot. Lowering it, she swallows again before adding, “Why do I always pick losers?”

Sitting beside her on the step, I take the bottle away and lift it to take a shot. Damn! What is this crap? Trying not to cough, I gasp out, “Don’t we all?”

“You a woman hater?”

“Nope,” I answer as I set the bottle down behind us, out of her reach.

“Maybe you should be.”

I can feel the laughter bubbling up inside me at this ridiculous conversation.

A huge sigh escapes her, “I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“About?”

“Family holiday stuff. Ugh. Ian was supposed to go with me. Now, I’m going to be stuck between two old men who think fart jokes are funny.”

Trying hard not to laugh, I nudge her with my elbow, “Why don’t we get you upstairs? It’s drafty down here.”

“Okay.” Ally pushes up off the step and starts up the stairs before I even stand up.

I grab the bottle before she can and follow her, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she replies as she rounds the corner and reaches our floor. Ally stops by her door as she searches for her keys.

I wait until she finds them and gets her door open. She steps inside then looks back at me, “Thanks.”

“For?”

“I don’t know, but it seemed like the right thing to say.”

I laugh, I can’t help it. Waving her into her apartment, I say, “Good night, Ally.”

“Night.”

As the door closes, I turn away and head down the hall to my door. As I push the key into the lock, an idea hits me. Something that would solve both of our problems.

Wednesday

Alison

Exiting the bathroom, I pause to hold my hand against my mouth and the other against my stomach. Dear lord, don’t make me puke! Please don’t make me puke. Why did I drink that crap?

I debate heading back into the bathroom. If I’m going to puke, I don’t want it to be on my floor. But I’m afraid to move. A few minutes later, my stomach settles enough that I can move without losing it, and I continue down the hall to the kitchen while mumbling to myself.

“Tea…I need tea.”

After I put the kettle on the stove, I open the fridge and take out my toaster bread. “A little toast, some tea…everything will be fine.”

I pause when someone knocks on my door. Leaving the bread on the counter, I approach the door while muttering, “Who the hell would bother me at this hour?”

Using the peek hole, I spot my new neighbor. I vaguely recall having a conversation with him on the steps last night. I open the door without really thinking about it, “Hello.”

A smile splits his face as he looks me up and down, “How are you feeling this morning?”

Realizing I’m dressed only in a nightshirt that stops at the top of my thighs, and I have no idea what my face and hair look like, I mentally curse myself but reply, “Hungover.”

“Which explains why you answered the door in your pajamas.”

I cross my arms over my braless chest, “Do you need something?”

“Yes, I think I have an idea that could help both of us. May I come in?” He shakes a bag I hadn’t noticed earlier, “I brought some breakfast.”

“Don’t mention food.”

“Bagels?”

I hold my hand out for the bag. He hands it over with a smile. I take it and head for the kitchen, leaving it up to Dominick to shut the door and follow. I set the bag with the bagels on the counter as my tea kettle whistles.

Turning off the stove, I grab the handle for the kettle and set it on a potholder then work on getting a cup, tea bag, and some sugar out.

“Do you always drink tea?”

I had forgotten he was there. Wow, I am hungover. I look over to find Dominick on the other side of the counter watching me. Turning my attention back to the kettle as I lift it and pour out the boiling hot water, I reply, “Only when my stomach is upset.”

“So, do you want to hear my suggestion?”

“What suggestion?”

Dominick chuckles in a deep, amused tone that sends ripples down my spine. Ok, I should be too hungover for that, too.

“Ok, from our conversation on the stairs last night, I gather you no longer have a date to bring with to your family’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

“And?”

“Neither do I.”

“And?”

“I suggest we bring each other.”

I almost drop the tea kettle. Setting it back down on the potholder, I finally turn my full attention on Dominick, “Why?”

“Look, we both need a little help. You didn’t want to go alone. I’d like to avoid my family’s inquisition.”

“You’re nuts.”

He smiles at me, “This is a win-win. My mother won’t ask questions about my ex-girlfriend while you’re there and you won’t get stuck sitting between two old men that think fart jokes are funny.”

I said that? I don’t remember, but it sounds like me. I arch an eyebrow at him, “I don’t usually introduce boyfriends to the family that I haven’t even gone on a date with.”

“We can introduce each other as new neighbors and friends who didn’t want to be alone during the holidays.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Easy to fix. Let’s have dinner tonight. We can spend some time getting to know each other better,” he uses air quotes, “before you introduce me to the family.”

I shake my head at him, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Neither do you. It’s a fair exchange.”

“True.” I stare at him while trying to figure it out, but the hangover headache throbs. “I’m not sober enough for this conversation.”

“You’re sober. It’s the hangover talking.”

“Fine, I’m too damn hungover for this conversation.”

I receive another smile, “Drink your tea, eat a bagel, take some aspirin, and perhaps have a nap. I’ll pick you up at six for dinner.”

At least he didn't mention what I look like and suggest a shower. I give him as dirty of a look as I can muster with my pounding head, “I haven’t agreed yet.”

“You will,” he says as Dominick heads for the door. “All you have to think about are those fart jokes.”

As the door closes behind him, I mutter, “Bastard,” but reach into the bag to pull out a bagel.