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Show 115 for their boldness. Carried it home and sat it right in the middle of the goddamn table. Lit it. Toasted it with bodega wine and waited for Nick. Who simply laughed and said, "Shit, you two can't even fuck up right, that ain't big enough to warm a doghouse." And was right. Steven looks at it now, there, across the table. It has begun to sputter and he knows what that means. It means that before long its feeble flame and heat will disappear completely. Sara had cried at Nick's words, strange to see. Steven had felt sorry for her, angry and humiliated for them both until Nick said, "Oh stop it for chrissake" and she did, stopped crying just like that, like turning off a faucet, then disappeared with him into their bedroom. And there was no longer anyone for Steven to feel sorry for but himself as he walked through a late-afternoon drizzle, through the wet and puddled streets of Calpe. Tomorrow is Christmas, this is Christmas eve. But there are no gifts, at least not officially, not in front of Nick. "We got better things to spend our money on," he had said. "But what's Christmas without presents?" Sara had wanted to know. "Just another day, just another day." But none of them could keep from grinning beneath their words, and together Sara and Steven had spent an entire day in search of |
