“How much do you pay for this place?” he asked her bluntly. He didn't want to say “shithole,” but it was.
“My share is a hundred and seventy-five dollars,” she said, looking embarrassed. She had never let him come up before, and he hadn't asked, and now he felt guilty about that too. The woman slept in his bed nearly every night and he said he loved her, and when she left him, she came back to this. This was worse than Cinderella cleaning up her stepmother's house, scrubbing floors on her knees. It was a total nightmare, and the rest of the time she was getting her ass pinched at Pier 92. He had had no idea how she lived. “It's all I can afford,” she said apologetically, as he fought back tears.
“Come on, Maggie,” he said softly, putting his arms around her and kissing her finally, “let's go home.”
“What are we going to do? Don't you have to go to your parent's house?” She thought maybe he hadn't left yet, and had come to see her on his way out of town. In her dreams, he would ask her to come to his parents' with him. But she didn't realize the full extent of how miserable that would have been.
“I already went. I left. I walked out. I came home to be with you. I can't put up with that shit anymore.” She smiled at him as he said it. She was proud of him, and he knew it. At least someone was. And he was too. It was the ballsiest thing he had ever done. Thanks to her. She had opened his eyes, and when he looked and listened, he couldn't take it anymore. She had reminded him that he had a choice.
“Are we going out for lunch?” she asked, running a hand through her hair. She looked a total mess, and hadn't expected to see him till that night.
“No, I'm making you Thanksgiving dinner at my place. Let's go.” He sat down on one of the couches, and it sagged right to the floor. Everything looked so filthy, he hated to sit down. He couldn't even imagine living there. It never occurred to him that people lived like that. Let alone that she did. It made his heart ache for her. It took her twenty minutes to dress. She just put on jeans, a sweater, a Levi's jacket, and boots, washed her face, and combed her hair. She said she'd shower and put on makeup at his place, and she had decent clothes there. She hated to leave them in the apartment, because her roommates always took them and never gave them back, even her shoes. It was inconceivable to him now, having seen the place, that she ever looked as good as she did for him. You had to be a magician to come out of a hole like that and look, act, and feel like a human being, but she managed it somehow.
He followed her down the stairs, and two minutes later they roared off in the Ferrari and went back to his place. She helped him carry the groceries and cook dinner, after she showered and they made love. She set the table while he carved the turkey, and they had Thanksgiving dinner in his kitchen wearing bathrobes. After dinner they went back to bed, and he held her as he thought of everything that had happened that day. They had come a long, long way.
“I guess this must be a relationship, then,” he said, pulling her closer and smiling at her.
“What made you say that?” She smiled. He looked so beautiful to her, as she did to him.
“We just had a holiday together, didn't we? Maybe we even started a tradition. We'll have to get dressed next year though. My kids will be here. And I'm not taking them to my mom's.”
He still had a decision to make about Chanukah, but that was weeks away. He didn't want to keep his children from his parents, but he was no longer willing to sacrifice himself, or be burned at the stake to please them. Those days were over. There was a slim chance that his walking out might teach them to treat him better, but he doubted it. All he knew right now was that he was happy with Maggie, and his stomach didn't ache. That was a lot, and a vast improvement.
It was Sunday night before he asked her what had been on his mind all weekend. It was a big step, but having seen her apartment, he couldn't bring himself to let her go back there. It scared the shit out of him, but it wasn't marriage for chrissake, he told himself.
They were cleaning up the dinner dishes on Sunday night before she left. They had finished all the leftovers of their turkey at lunchtime. It had been delicious. His best Thanksgiving to date, and surely hers.
“What do you say you move in? You know … kind of try it out… see how it goes… you're here most of the time anyway… and I can help you with your homework …” His voice trailed off as she turned to look at him, uncertain. She was touched, but scared.
“I don't know,” she said, looking confused. “I don't want to be dependent on you, Adam. What you saw is all I can afford. If I get used to this, and you toss my ass out of here one day, it would be hard to go back.”
“Then don't. Stay here. I'm not going to toss your ass out, Maggie. I love you. And for now, this is working.”
