Love Thy Neighbor

Chapter 18

"So today starts Hanukkah, right?" Shawn asks over coffee the next morning.

No, we did not spend the night together. He stopped by after he went to the gym. His jet lag is crazy bad, but he insists that sticking to his routine helps. Me? I'd probably sleep for 24 hours.

"Yep. Today is the day."

My menorah, sent by my mom, sits on my counter, along with a box of candles and a some matches.

"Tell me about Hanukkah," he say, gesturing towards the menorah.

So I do. I tell him the whole story about the oil in the temple lasting eight days and how we light a candle each night for each of those days. I explain that we usually open a small gift each night. (My mom had sent my first four gifts along with the menorah.) I describe some of the traditional foods we eat, though I have no plans of making any of them just for myself. I'll wait until my family gets here. It's a crash course in the holiday, but when I am done, he seems to understand it.

"This might be rude, but can I come over tonight when you light the first candle?" he asks.

I'm a bit taken aback. I never even considered that he'd want to join me.

"I'd love that," I tell him.

He comes by that evening, before sundown, just as I'd instructed.

Once the sun sets, I light the shamash (center) candle and say the blessing. I then light the first candle. I put the shamash back in place and turn to Shawn.

"That's pretty much it," I say.

He nods.

We look at the menorah a bit. It's weird for me to do this without my family. I went to school so close to home that I never had to miss Hanukkah, even when it was not during my school's winter break.

"You said there were presents," Shawn mentions.

"Oh, right!" I pull out the box my mom has labeled "1" and set it on the counter.

I open it and find a new phone case and a key fob that coordinates. Very cute.

"I told you we do small gifts," I explain, thinking he might think this is nothing. "Usually my parents drop a bigger present on the last day."

"Gotcha," he says.

He then walks over to his coat and pulls a small flat box out of the left pocket.

"Happy Hanukkah, Jess," he says as he sets it in front of me.

I'm embarrassed by the gesture. "I don't have anything for you!"

"It's not my holiday," he replies. "Open it."

Inside the box are three day passes to a spa resort in Toronto.

"I thought you and your girlfriends could use some pampering," he says.

"This will be perfect for when you are in Europe! I can plan a girls weekend with Liz and Jules."

Shawn comes back the next night and we repeat the ritual. I'd told him no gifts. He brought one anyway. This time it was a voucher for a suite at the spa.

"You said you wanted a girls weekend; I figured staying over at the resort would make that better," he tells me.

Later, we are curled up on my couch, taking a brief break from kissing, when he suggests something.

"Why don't you spend Christmas with me?"

"Aren't you going to your parents' house?" I ask.

"Yeah. I want you to come with. We can leave on Christmas Eve."

It seems like a pretty big step forward to me, and that scares me a little. Each move towards becoming more serious means the potential for bigger heartbreak if it doesn't work out. I still think it's unlikely that a supermodel-banging music star will just settle down with the girl next door. Or across the hall.

"Your family won't mind?" I ask, but knowing him, he's already told them I am coming.

"Come on. You know how much they like you."

"There's just one problem," I say. "I can't leave until after I light the menorah on the 24th, and I have to be back to light it on the 25th."

"Can you bring it with you?" he asks.

This sounds like a good solution, but I hate to stand out as the person who is a different faith. I have no idea how Christian his family is. Do they really want me celebrating Judaism during their holiday?

"I think that might be weird," I say.

"Why? My family would never care. Hell, they'd probably think it was cool."

"How about I drive myself. You can spend the day of Christmas Eve with your family and I will come after I do my thing that night. I can leave early on Christmas without disrupting anything."

"If that's what it takes to get you there, then that will be fine."

"If I drive myself, I really don't have to put your parents out by staying over," I suggest.

"Now you are pushing it," he says firmly. "I want you there on Christmas morning when I get up. I want to share my traditions with you."

I can't say no when he puts it like that.