A Culturally Insensitive Winter Holiday
"Au revoir, Julien!"
"Au revoir, Maman!" The boys waited for the door to slam shut behind Mme. Quentin's fur-clad back.
"And now we have the apartment to ourselves for a whole two semaines!" Julien grinned at Jean. "Think of the things we could do!"
Jean smiled back, a bit uncomfortably. Julien's words had prompted his mind to fill with images of scandalous things they could do together.
"Where's your mother even going, anyways?"
"To Lille. She still talks to Papa's family, who lives there, plus she manages the usine now so she needs to be there."
"Pendant Noel? Even now?"
"They have some important documents they need for her to approve, right now. Otherwise, we may lose ownership of l'usine."
"Oh." Jean's face turned serious.
"No, it's nothing that serious!" Julien laughed. "But we're alone for Christmas. And I've decided to make it very nice. We should do something special for the first Christmas we spend together." Oops, Julien thought. Too many words, too soon. The doorbell rang and he ran to get it, seizing the chance to get away from his embarrassing blunder.
"Jean, the greenery is here!" Julien opened the door fully and two delivery men entered the room, carrying massive boxes. Jean gave a small smile and watched as Julien signed off on the delivery. "We have the tree here and the wreaths." He unlatched the largest of the boxes and let the sides crumple to the ground. A tree that was taller than the two boys standing on each other's shoulders flopped out. "Funny, I thought it would be bigger."
They dragged the tree into the living room and, with much effort, righted it. Then, they hung up enormous wreaths and decorated. Julien left at one point and came back with a nativity scene and des bougies. As morning turned into afternoon, bread, pate, foie gras, escargots, goose, chestnuts, cakes, and wines began appearing in the kitchen.
"We're not even going to finish this, Julien. What a waste."
"No, that's the point. We take the rest of this to Notre Dame de Paris."
"Wow." Jean's eyes clouded over.
"What is it? You've seemed off all day."
"It's nothing. It's just…"
Julien nearly dropped the goose he was holding as he realized his horrifying mistake. "You're Jewish. Merde, I'm so sorry." They stared at each other. "Please, Jean, let me fix this."
"No, don't worry about me. I don't have beaucoup d'argent and I really don't want to give you any trouble." He turned to leave. "I'm going to the Marais. I'll be back soon. Please, don't worry about me, Julien. It's no big deal."
"Wait."
Jean was already out the door.
"Merde."
"Monsieur, what is one supposed to do for Hanukkah?" The grocer peered at Julien curiously.
"You're not one of us."
"Of course I'm not one of you, that's why I'm asking!" Julien looked nervously at the setting sun behind the buildings of the Marais "Monsieur, please, I don't have much time. I made a huge mistake and I need to fix it before my friend comes back home and he's going to come out of there any minute!" Julien pointed to the synagogue across the street. The minute he spoke, a cloaked figure emerged from the doors of the synagogue. "Merde, that's him!" The grocer took one long look at Julien and then turned back into the grocery store. "Henri!" Another grocer came out. "Delay that young fellow!" The grocer pointed across the street to the cloaked figure. The second grocer nodded and ran across the road.
"Thank you, monsieur. That wasn't necessary though, please, I don't want to trouble you." The grocer looked carefully back at Julien.
"You love that boy, don't you?"
"Excuse me?"
The grocer winked. "This isn't my first rodeo, kid. Plus, we don't pretend that Henri's my brother for nothing." He set off. "Follow me."
"Would you like to come with me? I have latkes, son." Jean pretended not to notice, though it was obviously just an act at this point. This crazy grocer had been bothering him for the past half an hour. Afraid of leading him to Julien's apartment, Jean had taken countless wrong turns and crossed the Seine at least five times. What had been a ten minute walk had turned into one that probably wouldn't end until the next day.
"Okay, young Julien." The grocer handed him yet another item from the piles in the store. "You're set."
Julien looked down at the box of things cradled in his arms. A Menorah, olive oil, paper packets of jelly doughnuts, latkes, cheeses, brisket, applesauce, and fried vegetables, dreidels, chocolate coins, and candles. "I don't think I can remember what to do with these."
"But your young man will." The grocer stopped in front of Julien's apartment building.
"Thank you, monsieur." He dug in his pockets. "I can pay you for your time."
"Nonsense, son." The grocer stepped back as Julien offered him his bills. "It's the holidays, after all. I'm glad I could help you." He sighed, dreamily. "Young love. I remember what that was like."
"I haven't said anything yet."
The grocer's eyes bulged. "Well, you better do so soon. You don't have all the time in the world. As the past years have reminded us all." As Julien headed up the stairs, the grocer yelled one last sentence. "Remember, love knows no boundaries."
Jean sighed as he slammed the front door behind him. "Julien, I just spent the past hour and a half trying to shake a crazy man who was following me." He looked up and saw Julien standing at the door of the kitchen. Something was different about the apartment. The same decorations were there but there was something that made it more familiar.
"Yeah, I got a menorah and candles. And I bought Jewish food. And other things that I can't even name. And I took all of the pork stuff to Notre Dame already. And I asked that crazy man to bother you. And I need to go to la messe tomorrow morning but I can walk you to the synagogue. And I am so, so, so sorry."
"You didn't have to do this." Jean started crying.
"I didn't have to. I wanted to." Julien moved forward so he was standing right in front of Jean. He brushed away the tears with his thumb.
"I haven't had something like this since before the war. Since my parents died." His wounded eyes met Julien's. "Thank you."
The words the grocer had said to Julien echoed in his head. You better tell him soon. You don't have all the time in the world. "Jean, I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
Julien braced himself. All those years. It was coming down to this. I can do this, he thought. "I'm in love with you." An awkward silence hung between them as Julien's gut twisted. This is it. He'll never talk to me again. "Please say something. You're scaring me."
Jean grabbed his arms and pushed him backwards until he was against a wall. Julien braced himself for the punch that was coming. Instead, Jean moved his hands upwards to cup his chin and then kissed him.
"Je t'aime aussi," he whispered when they finally parted.
They prayed and lit candles and ate and talked and laughed and played games. When it turned pitch black outside, Julien drew all the curtains and lit the fire in the living room. They sat side by side, awkwardly in front of the fire, as they remembered again the change in their friendship that had happened that day. Finally, Jean slid over next to Julien and laid his head on his chest.
"You ever think this is wrong?" Julien asked absently, as he stroked Jean's curls.
"Us? Together?"
"Yeah."
"Tout le temps." Jean turned to face him. "But I think that God is kind. I think that God doesn't care about whom we love. I think He cares about whether we love at all." They stared at the fire for a long time.
"I would gladly burn in Hell for a thousand years to make you happy."
"I would rather not see you burn in Hell at all."
"Glad we're on the same page."
"You think it's wrong, don't you?"
"I do." Julien sighed. "But I want to be happy and I want to make you happy and I know that we only have right now." He couldn't hold back anymore. He grabbed Jean by the collar of his sweater and slid down underneath him. Their eyes locked on each other's as Julien ran his fingers around Jean's head and gently pulled him downwards. His lips were chapped but Julien didn't even care. It was their second kiss that day.
