In Chapter 7, Cynthia's mother and sisters are visiting from New York City to celebrate Hanukkah as a family. She invites Malcolm, his family, and the Krelboynes to her house for the last night of festivities, and with this many eccentric personalities, it will be a holiday full of mishegas!

Happy Hanukkah

Despite his insistence that he did not belong there, Malcolm had been finding himself at the mall with regularity for months. He'd shuddered at this realization as he and Stevie made their way into a new-age shop called Sunshine Pathways on the upper floor. They crossed the threshold and a wave of earthy scents passed over them. A green neon sign stood right inside of the doorway, beaming light from the word ZEN onto their faces.

"And why …

… am I here?" asked Stevie.

"We're just getting a gift, what's your problem?" said Malcolm.

" … just …

… a gift …

… right." Stevie smiled facetiously.

"Excuse me for being thoughtful."

Stevie stared up at Malcolm as if he were an impostor.

Everyone's acting weird ever since I started being nicer to Cynthia. I'll admit, things are a little hazy between us, but she's definitely still not my girlfriend. What's wrong with getting your friend a gift?

"You don't …

… know much …

… about Hanukkah …

… do you?"

"So you think I'm not cultured? I happen to know a lot of things about religions, Stevie."

"Do …

… enlighten me."

"When the Jews reclaimed the Temple of Jerusalem, they lit an oil lamp and celebrated for as long as it burned, which was eight days."

"Wow…

… you should …

… write …

… a book."

"Shut up, Stevie. Trust me, I read up on it. Now are you getting anything?"

" I already...

... got …

… a gift card."

"Oh, that's really special."

Malcolm and Stevie made their way through fields of hemp satchels and walls of incense, trying to dodge the heavily pierced and dreadlocked employees who were keen to sell them a porcelain Buddha ashtray or some healing crystals.

At the end of the shop was a case of handcrafted accessories—stone necklaces, mood rings, oriental pendants, and elaborate bracelets. One such bracelet caught his eye. It sat in the middle, accentuated by the lesser pieces scattered around it. The band stood on its own, a wide cuff of sturdy brass. Intricate metal work spanned the face of it, curling into a winding lattice and converging in the center to form a Hamsa, and set in every space was a neatly cut stone of jasper, amber, jade, or turquoise.

"Holy crap, Stevie. Do you see that?"

"A hundred …

… fifty …

… big ones."

A salesman with gauges bigger than the rest of his ears and a man bun atop his head moseyed over on a cloud of patchouli.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" he asked, smiling placidly.

"I want to get this bracelet," said Malcolm.

"Oh, yeah, I love that piece. So mystical. It has such a powerful energy to it. Does it hold significance for you?"

Stevie rolled his eyes.

"Not really, it's just a gift," said Malcolm.

"Okay, well cool. Yeah, that's great man."

Malcolm and Stevie stared as the salesman bobbed his head lightly to the sitar music on the speakers and casually played with the agate pendant on his necklace.

"So can you ring me up?" asked Malcolm.

"Yeah, that sounds great, let's do that, man."

They went over to the counter and the salesman began ringing them up.

Near the counter, a girl with a pink buzzcut and black lipstick stocking wood puzzle boxes took a look at the two hapless non-mystics. Stevie glanced her way and nodded, smiling. The girl smiled and winked.

"Enchan…

… té."

XXXXX

Malcolm looked down at the grey suit jacket in his hands and frowned. The snag on its collar was only the smallest defect of all the dress clothes in his closet. Unless he wanted the mysteriously stained brown one or the frayed and pilled wool one, he'd have to accept the snag.

In the living room, Dewey sat on the couch between Francis and Piama. They watched a staticky image of some black and white movie on TV.

"Dewey," said Francis, "can you hand me the remote?"

"It's over by Piama," said Dewey.

"Can you ask her to give it to you so you can give it to me, please?"

"Dewey," said Piama, "can you tell your older brother that he'll get the remote when he apologizes?"

"Dewey," said Francis "can you tell Piama that there's nothing to apologize for?"

"Mooom! they're using me as an emotional mediator again!" Dewey whined.

"Just ignore them, Dewey!" shouted Lois from the kitchen.

Hal staggered in nervously from the bedroom to meet Lois, holding two virtually identical neckties of the same shade of blue with white stripes.

"Which one?" he asked.

"They're exactly the same."

"Ah ah, no, see this one is the cashmere. See? Feel the texture."

He pulled Lois's hand up to it. She rubbed the tie obligatorily, a weary look on her face.

"And then this one is the cotton wool. Very nice thread pattern but maybe a little too flashy? Or is the cashmere too flashy?"

"Just pick one, Hal! They're both fine."

"This is a very important night, Lois! We're lucky to get invited in the first place considering how much her parents hate us." Hal stormed off to the bedroom.

"Oh, relax, Hal. They just hate Malcolm."

"What?" Malcolm asked, walking in.

"Good, you're dressed. We've leaving in exactly one minute."

Reese walked past them and Lois grabbed him by the collar.

"Don't think I forgot about you. You will behave yourself tonight. No stealing, no hitting, no pranks, no making fun of their food or their customs, and if I catch you playing frisbee with one of their yarmulkes like I did at your classmate's bar mitzvah, there's gonna be hell to pay."

"I don't even know what that is."

"It's that disc-shaped hat they wear," said Hal from the bedroom.

"Aw, c'mon! What are those things for if you're not supposed to throw them?"

"I mean it Reese. I'll be watching you all night!"

Reese groaned and sulked his way to the car. Dewey hastily got up from the couch and headed the same way. Piama and Francis looked at each other with contempt, then quickly got off the couch and headed out in separate directions.

Hal came back from the bedroom with the two ties in hand and a third patterned with cartoony menorahs.

"Hear me out."

Lois snatched one of the blue and white ties out of his hand and shoved it towards his chest. "Put it on!"

Hal scampered back to their bedroom.

Lois grabbed her handbag and paused to look at Malcolm for the first time that day. She noticed the small box wrapped in silver paper in his hand.

"What's that?"

Malcolm quickly hid the box behind his back, knowing fully that it was a completely useless thing to do.

"Really?" asked Lois. "If it's a gift for Cynthia, I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like we're going to embarrass you."

Lois walked out to the car and Hal quickly followed, stopping briefly at the door and looking down at his tie with apprehension before letting out a clipped scream, throwing the door open, and slamming it behind him.

Malcolm hung his head and slowly trudged toward the oncoming disaster.

XXXXX

The tension was palpable as soon as Cynthia's father opened the door. Just then Malcolm became acutely aware of the size of their group. Two parents, four kids, and an in-law, all because he was friends with this guy's daughter.

"Well, great to see you all," said Cynthia's dad, unconvincingly.

"Thank you, Fred," said Lois.

Hal popped out from behind her and thrust his hand towards Fred with a lunatic smile.

"Hey! How do you do, there Fred? I'm Hal, Malcolm's father, although I do have three other boys, you see, not just him. " He was shaking Fred's hand manically.

"Ah yes," said Fred. "I believe I was acquainted with Reese, here, after he tried to fondle my daughter."

"And boy did she hand it to him!" said Hal, giving a hoarse and shaky laugh. "You got a real fighter, there, Fred. Good for you!"

"Hal," said Lois, tersely.

Hal shrank away into the background. Fred looked down at Malcolm's horrified face and smirked.

"Well, come in, I guess."

Malcolm's family immediately noticed how much nicer the Sanders' house was. In addition to numerous, expensive looking art pieces and antique furniture tastefully laid out, they'd decorated modestly but elegantly. Blue and white patterned throws on the sofas and chairs, glowing candles on the side tables, a menorah on the mantelpiece next to pictures of the family.

In the living room, a tall, dark haired woman in a stylish green dress rose from one of the sofas and gracefully lifted her arm in greeting.

"Hello," she said, softly shaking Hal and Lois's hands. " I'm Irene, Cynthia's mother."

"So nice, to meet you, I'm Lois."

"It's a pleasure Irene," said Hal. "I assure you—"

"This is my husband, Hal," Lois interrupted. "Our son Malcolm is in the same grade as Cynthia.

"Oh, yes, I've heard much about him."

"Well, don't believe everything you hear," said Hal. "Those claims are all just allegations, of course. We raise our boys to be fine young gentlemen." Hal gestured towards the boys, who stood looking at their feet. Dewey was picking his nose.

"So is there food here, or what?" asked Reese.

"Oh, no, no, I mean good things," Irene continued. "Cynthia is quite enamored with him," said Irene.

"Oh," said Hal. "Well...well yes, of course."

"We're just glad you invited us," said Lois.

"Oh absolutely. Cynthia insisted we invite all her friends and their families. Although I think only you and Mr. Kenarban were able to join."

"Oh, Abe is coming?" asked Lois.

"What!?" shouted an old man sitting on the couch.

"Not you, Abraham," said Irene. She turned to Lois and Hal, whispering "Cynthia's grandfather."

"You're welcome to have a seat," said Fred from the dinner table, toying with the stem of his wine glass.

The group awkwardly moved into the living room just in time for Abe to show up with Stevie, Dabney, and Lloyd.

"Happy Hanukkah my friends!" announced Abe. "A hearty shalom to you, and may peace be to Israel."

"Overkill …

… Dad," said Stevie.

"Where's Cynthia?" asked Dabney.

"Probably somewhere with her sisters," said Irene.

"Who're you?" asked Lloyd.

"I'm Cynthia's mother."

The four of them stared at her. Stevie took a puff of his inhaler. Lloyd leaned over to Dabney. "Wowza…"

As Abe and his group hung up their coats, Cynthia came down followed by three girls. Unlike Malcolm and his family, they were dressed in everyday clothes. Malcolm immediately regretted the jacket.

"Malcolm!" she exclaimed, running over. She hugged him tightly and then looked around the room at all the watching eyes. She blushed heavily and then halfheartedly hugged Dabney and Lloyd, who looked at each other confused. She came to Stevie and, unsure of herself, held out her hand. He shook it gently.

"Charmed," he said.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" said the girl nearest Cynthia.

"Oh, yeah, these are my sisters." Cynthia stepped aside to introduce them. "This is Sandra, Miriam, and Judith."

"What are we all standing here for?" asked Judith.

"Judith, please," said Irene. "Hal, Lois, Abe, would you like a glass of wine?"

"I sure would," said Lois.

As they went into the dining room, Miriam came and stood next to Cynthia. "Anyone up for some dreidel?" she asked, smiling exuberantly. The group stared at her bemused until her smile faded.

"I'm getting some wine, too," said Piama.

Francis rolled his eyes and followed her. "Great," he said. "We finally hit the booze faze of the argument."

"What's their problem?" Asked Sandra, from the back.

"Something about a Christmas stocking. We're not really sure," said Reese, matter-of-factly.

After another awkward silence, the group dispersed into the house. Miriam sat down in an open space near their piano and pulled out a polished wooden dreidel. She produced a scrunchie from her pocket and messily gathered her unruly mane into a lopsided bun. "Ready to play?"

"You mean ready to let you win?" asked Sandra, smiling. She walked over and sat next to Miriam. Reese, Dewey, Lloyd, and Stevie joined. Dabney nervously asked to be pointed to the bathroom, leaving Cynthia and Malcolm alone near the stairs.

"Some party, huh?" she said.

Malcolm smiled. "Heh, yeah…So what did you get?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like gifts."

"Oh, not much, really. We don't really do big gifts on Hanukkah. That's a Christmas thing. I did get a gift card from Stevie though! Wasn't expecting that."

"Oh…" said Malcolm. "Well, uh—"

"What's that?" Cynthia asked, pointing to the box in Malcolm's hand.

Malcolm looked down at the gift box and shot a surprised glance back at Cynthia, as if it had simply appeared in his hand without explanation. "Um… Do you have anything to drink?"

"Yeah! Come with me."

They passed the group beginning the dreidel game just as Miriam was finishing explaining the rules.

"So, as you can see, it's very simple. You have four possibilities, and when the pot is empty we consider the round over. Now, as the game master, I will spin first." Miriam spun the dreidel and after a lengthy interval it came down on "nun". Miriam groaned.

"Does that mean you lose?" asked Reese.

"It does this time," said Sandra.

Reese leaned over to Dewie. "This is gonna be a piece of cake."

"Your turn" said Judith, tersely. She dropped the dreidel in Reese's lap and then stared forward, blankly.

Reese spun the dreidel and it, too, landed on nun."What the hell is this? You already got that one."

"It's a game of chance," said Miriam. "You get what you get."

"What a load of crap!"

"It's your turn to spin," said Judith to Dewey. Dewey looked at her quizzically and Judith looked back at him with no expression. He picked up the dreidel, spun it, and got Gimel.

"Yay! You get everything," said Miriam, clapping.

Dewey stuck his hand into the bowl they'd lain in the center of the circle and grabbed the handful of pennies within, frowning.

"Now everyone put a penny back in the bowl and we'll start again."

"I think it's time we up the ante," said Reese.

"What do you mean?" asked Sandra.

"I don't play for pennies." Reese pulled a dollar out of his pocket. "It's time to get serious, here."

"Now we're…

… talking," said Stevie.

"Raising the stakes, are we?" said Lloyd, smiling.

"Yeah, I just said that," said Reese. "And we're changing the rules, too. From now on you can decide if you want to take from the pot or another player."

"I don't know about this," said Miriam. "I think we should stick to the rules. That way we know it's fair."

"I think we have a lot to learn from each other, Miriam. I learned about the spinny game from you, and now you're going to learn that rules are made to be broken."

Miriam looked nervously at Sandra, who just shrugged and said, "I'll get the piggy bank."

At the dining room table, Lois and Hal sat across from Fred and Irene while Abe walked casually around the living room, taking in the place.

"So," said Irene, "what do you two do for a living.?"

"Oh, just some boring office job," said Hal. "Daily grind, boss is a jerk, you know how it is, Fred."

"No, I'm an architect," said Fred. "I work for myself."

"Huh, well that's uh…" Hal trailed off, muttering into his wine glass.

"I work at the Lucky Aide," said Lois.

"Is that a charity?"

"Convenience store."

"Oh…" said Irene, holding her smile unnaturally and twisting her wine glass on the table. "I'm not familiar."

"No?"

Irene laughed a little. "Well, I live in New York."

"Ah, I see. So you live on your own?"

"Well, I was remarried briefly, but I've since gotten divorced again. Miriam lives with me, but she mostly takes care of herself. She's very independent. Sandra is in college, and Judith, our youngest, attends a boarding school in England. So I'm mostly by myself these days."

"Hm," said Lois, taking a drink from her glass. "I didn't know you could just… take a vacation!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's not like I never wanted to have an exciting life on my own, but I have four boys to raise."

"And I have four girls."

Lois continued to smile politely, but the smile left her eyes, replaced by a sobering candidness that threatened to decimate the pretense of civilized discussion.

Hal burst out in a terrified laugh "Gee, that is so interesting, isn't it, the way things match up like that. You have some fine kids, Irene, all four of them just terrific."

Irene and Lois continued looking at each other with fixed masks of politeness. Hal turned to look at Fred who seemed mildly amused by the exchange. He caught Hal's stare and, for the first time that night, decided to extend the olive branch.

"You ever seen a fourty year old bottle of whiskey?" asked Fred.

Hal's face dropped, suddenly forgetting his immediate circumstances.

"No way," said Hal.

"Come on. I'll show you my study."

Hal hurriedly left his seat and followed Fred out of the dining room. Lois rolled her eyes and looked back at Irene, who now rested her forehead in her hands. Irene looked up at Lois, less rigidly, now. Lois gave a genuine smile and shook her head.

"So, Irene," said Lois. "What do you do for a living?"

…

While Cynthia showed Malcolm around the house, he'd managed to stuff the present box into one of his jacket's big pockets. He had no plan for what to do with it, but at the moment knew keeping it out of sight would spare him from looking further overcompensating.

They arrived at Cynthia's bedroom, which he'd only gotten a glimpse of from the outside when, years before, he had impulsively sent a brick flying through her window. She opened the door, and what he saw left him speechless.

Despite the prim appearance of the rest of the house, Cynthia had fashioned her bedroom into a wild and eclectic jungle of fascinating objects and multicultural exhibition. She had a queen sized bed on an old fashioned metal frame, sheets with a vibrant oriental pattern and a mixture of afghans and handcrafted comforters strewn across the top. A dazzling collection of figures— Hopi kachinas, wooden frogs, alebrijes, jade elephants, and more— rested on a shelf above the headboard, which underlined a row of detailed, vintage maps. On the opposite wall, in an equally frenetic but thematically divergent manner, she had installed a pop-culture collage composed of various posters and cutouts from magazines. A matted shot of Little Richard pounding the keys had been taped next to a glossy clipping of Ethan Hawke in Before Sunset. Freddie Mercury and Queen rubbed shoulders with Jackson Pollock as he stood above a drip canvas. Below Pollock's canvas, Sarah Michelle Gellar posed in a fighting stance against an unseen horde of vampires. These were but a few figures in the pantheon. On her dresser and side tables were sheer coverings of various shades, pictures of friends and family in precisely selected frames, elegant pens for unavoidable bursts of inspiration, vintage lamps, novelty notepads, and other curios. Another wall was invisible behind stacks of books that went to the ceiling. To tie together the visual cornucopia, an intricate, lithographed wallpaper depicting Elizabethan hedgerows had been chosen, and waxy plastic plants made hyperreal by the warm amber light of her lamps accented the pattern here and there, wherever a surface could hold them. Malcolm felt he could spend a year in that room and still not see everything in it.

"Sorry, it's such a mess!" said Cynthia. "Actually, we don't have to go in here." She closed the door. "Sorry."

"It's fine. You've seen my house. Can't be any worse than that," said Malcolm.

Cynthia looked down and smiled. She opened the door again and they stepped in.

"Holy crap. Where'd you get all this?" asked Malcolm.

"Oh, you know, travels and stuff. Some of it's from Europe, some from my Mom. She goes overseas a lot for work."

"What does she do?" asked Malcolm, observing a decorative mask from Papua New Guinea with awe.

"She's a foreign service officer. It's like a diplomat, only more specialized. She goes to a lot of places for conferences and stuff. She got me this in Israel."

She picked up a bulky knife with a rectangular blade.

"It's a shakin, a ceremonial knife for animal slaughter." She held it distressingly close to his face.

"Uh," he said nervously, "cool..."

She put it back down, smiling.

"It's good to have protection, especially when boys throw bricks through your window."

Malcolm blushed. "Right. Sorry"

"It's okay," she said. Her fingers drummed on the curio shelf while she continued looking at him. "So what was that thing you brought?"

"What thing?"

"The box. Was it like a Christmas gift?"

"Oh, um, I guess I didn't really know as much about Hanukkah as I thought I did."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I read up on it, but I guess I focused too much on the historical side."

"You read about Hanukkah?" she asked, smiling wider. "That's so cute!"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, obviously I read about the wrong era. I didn't know gifts weren't a thing."

"Eh," said Cynthia, shrugging. "Every family's different. Some kids get a bunch of things, but mostly we go light on the materialism. But why's that such a big deal?"

"Well, uh…"

Malcolm, feeling his forehead began to perspire, became suddenly cognizant of his nerves, and a cold wave shot down his back. Deciding to no longer be frozen, he let his arm reach into the pocket of his suit jacket, determined to block any conscious thoughts that might try to stop him from what he was about to do. He recalled the image of the neon sign in the new-age store. ZEN, he thought, concentrating on the visual. A pesky, rogue observation escaped his mental grip and reminded him how easily he'd interacted with other girls in this kind of situation, begging the question: why was this so difficult now? For this question he had no articulate answer.

Out of his pocket the silver box appeared. Holding it in the palm of his hand, Malcolm elevated it to his chest and extended it towards her like an automaton butler. She stood there a bit puzzled for a moment. But what she had suspected the whole night she finally allowed herself to vocalize.

"For me?" she asked.

Malcolm nodded.

Cynthia gently picked up the box. "It's heavier than I thought," she said quietly.

"Oh, well it's got metal in it. I mean, it's just a little thing, but it's heavier than it looks. But not like heavy because it's expensive. Not cheap either. I mean…" He babbled on while she, tuning him out, untied the white ribbon and lifted the lid. He trailed off and swallowed harshly as she lifted the bracelet out of the box. Silence commenced. She looked down at it for a few moments. Malcolm could not see her face.

Suddenly, she let out a shriek of laughter. She looked up at Malcolm, face red. After a few spastic gulps of air she continued to laugh louder than he'd ever heard before. He stared in disbelief and embarrassment.

"What?" he said, hurt.

"I don't know!"

"Is it stupid or something?"

"No, I love it!"

"Then why are you laughing?"

Her laughing died down, slowly. She swallowed, and said, "Oh it's just… It's so nice! Now I understand why you've been acting so nervous all night."

"What? C'mon I wasn't nervous."

"Oh, it's alright Malcolm," she said, tapping his arm. "I really, really like it. You're so sweet."

"It was nothing. I mean, not nothing, but it wasn't too much, I don't think. Anyway, I just figured I owed you, since you put up with me so much."

She slid the bracelet on and beamed, throwing her arms around him. When Malcolm thought it time to pull back, he felt resistance as she continued holding on tightly. She had no intention of releasing him. As he began to let go of the impulse to squirm away, his shoulders slowly descended and his body began to relax. He wrapped his arms around her, and in this unguarded state, his senses attuned themselves to Cynthia in a way they never had before.

He felt the empty space between them grow smaller. Their breaths rose and fell together and he could no longer distinguish her warmth from his. The scent of jasmine in her shampoo that he'd always been mildly aware of he now breathed in deeply. It was a physical closeness he'd experienced before with others, but never with this added sense of heightened intimacy. Allowing himself to give in to it, he closed his eyes and sighed. They held on for an indeterminate amount of time, just as long as they wanted to, and they could hear nothing but their own hearts.

She slowly let go, and only when she completely removed herself did he open his eyes as if gently waking from a peaceful sleep. Separated, now, he felt the thumping in his chest rise in intensity as they stared wordlessly at each other, a draft suddenly chilling them, and the question of what to do now lingering in the air.

...

Fred blew the dust off a tall dark box with the words Signature Vintage embossed on the front. He pulled out a flask-shaped glass bottle filled with darkly caramel colored liquid.

"Kinclaith, 40 Year Old 1959," said Fred. "At the time of bottling, of course."

"Good God." Hal held the bottle gently in his hands and looked deep into its amber core with awe, as if it were a lost relic."

"I designed a new clubhouse at a Scottish country club and they gave me this as a parting gift. Still haven't opened it."

"Geez, Fred, I don't know how you do it. I can spare a dime on myself every now and then, but something like this!" Hal waved his hand in the air and then stopped mid gesture, looking down at the box of enormous cigars Fred held in front of him.

"Cubans?" Hal squeaked.

"Havana, new medical center."

"My god, Fred." He pulled one out, delicately.

Hal sat in one of the leather cushioned seats and rolled the cigar between his fingers, inspecting the fine craftsmanship. A squeaky thunk could be heard as Fred removed the cork from the whiskey. He sniffed it, and then held it near Hal's nose. Hal drew in a long, blissful breath.

Taking a seat on the adjacent chair, Fred held out a newly ignited match and let Hal light his cigar.

The two sat in silence, puffing idly and taking slow, savored sips.

"It's like drinking Heaven," said Hal.

Fred laughed. "You're not far off, Hal."

"Where did I go wrong, Fred?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I could have had all this. I'm no architect but I had potential, once. Did you know I used to be a DJ?"

Fred raised his eyebrows in causal interest.

"I mean a real popular one, too, a political revolutionary. I could have been the next Howard Stern, only better."

"Interesting," said Fred.

"Yeah, Fred, I don't know. I mean my boys—there's only four of them but sometimes they feel like ten. You know?"

"Can't say I do."

Hal slumped in his chair. "Well, of course you don't. Your kids are perfect. Some people are so lucky."

"We've been fortunate, that's for sure. But it took some work, too. With Sandra and Cynthia it wasn't so hard, they're both so naturally smart and they stay out of trouble. But Miriam can be pretty deceiving. We've had to keep an eye on her. Tutors, counselors, all that. Haven't quite figured out Judith yet. She just likes her music and doesn't really tell us much else."

"Must be nice to be able to give them all of that."

Hal looked off to the distance with a wistful expression, and Fred looked over at him pityingly. He placed his cigar on an ashtray and patted Hal on the arm as he topped off their glasses.

"Say, what's the proof on this?" Hal asked.

Fred chuckled lightly. "Drink up."

…

Dabney walked through the sizable kitchen, surveying the dishes that had been left out, buffet style. Not a varied selection, to be sure—latkes, jelly donuts, mainly. Must be some kind of tradition, he thought. A dish on the island had some meat that looked like beef. His mother had warned him about beef. The last time he had meat was at the Krelboyne picnic when Malcolm's dad switched out their tofu burgers for actual ones. You're lucky you didn't die, Dabney's mom had told him. He hadn't had fried food since the cafeteria incident in kindergarten, either, and he preferred not to be reminded of the experience. After that, his mother had forbidden anything cooked in oil, too. He had just taken his anxiety pill, and the doctor's orders were to eat after taking it. He scanned the buffet nervously. Nothing. Just then, Piama and Francis walked into the room.

"How could you say that?" said Francis.

"Are you kidding me? What have I been telling you all week? You know exactly what you were doing!"

"And I already apologized! Can't you just put your pride away for one second?"

"My pride!?"

"Oh, okay, now it's all on me isn't it?"

"You know what—"

They stopped, looking at Dabney, who watched with great discomfort. Dabney turned his head slowly back to the food, and then back to Piama and Francis, who continued staring.

"Hello," Dabney said, his voice cracking.

"Hi…" said Francis.

Dabney trembled in place.

"Did you need something?" asked Piama, impatiently.

"Uhh, no! Just grabbing a bite."

Dabney swiped a latke from the plate and began scarfing it down. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with sufganiyah.

Piama rolled her eyes and stormed out of the kitchen.

Francis sighed as he watched her leave and then looked back at Dabney.

"How's the food?" he asked

Dabney slowly raised a thumbs up.

…

"Finally!" said Miriam. "I got Hay!"

She reached into the pot and pulled out an assortment of dollar bills and quarters until she had just about half the pot.

"Oh, the total is odd. Can I round up?"

"I don't think so," said Reese. "Maybe you'll get lucky next time."

He swiped the dreidel up from the floor and very sneakily tore off a piece of gum he'd been chewing and stuck it to the side of the dreidel opposite Gimel. By sleight of hand, he loaded the gum side with a ball bearing, one of the many trinkets of junk he'd picked up on the street that he meant to put into his Shiny Box at home.

He spun the dreidel, and it landed Gimel side up, just as he planned it.

"Well would you look at that? Guess I just have all the luck." he said with a smarmy grin. Miriam rolled her eyes and slumped forward.

Sandra got up, patting her legs. "Gonna stretch my legs a little."

"Fine", said Reese, grabbing her take and dumping it into the pot. Sandra looked at him, bemused.

"Oo-kay, then. Try not to lose all our money, okay, Miriam?"

Miriam shot Sandra a glare. "Try not to let mom smell you 'stretching your legs'".

"Shut up, Miriam!"

"It's your turn," said Judith to Dewey.

"Isn't this supposed to be fun?" Dewey asked.

"No," said Judith.

Sandra stopped by the hall closet to grab her purse before slipping out onto the front porch. She closed the door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one last look behind her before lighting one. She took a deep drag and tilted her head up to exhale. She looked back down and saw one of the guests looking at her. She froze and then looked down at her cigarette.

"Oh, uh, this is… I found this. I think someone was sneaking around the house with it."

"It's cool," said Francis. "I'm not gonna rat on you."

Sandra sighed in relief. "Thanks."

"Can I have one?"

"Sure."

Francis approached and Sandra handed him the pack with the lighter. He lit a cigarette for himself and then turned to Sandra.

"I mean, aren't you like, grown up, anyway? Why be afraid of your parents?"

"Oh… I don't know, really. Just habit, I guess." She paused. "So what are you doing out here?"

"My wife's really mad at me. I just came to hide for a few minutes."

…

Abe sat on the couch next to Abraham.

"So you come from Israel?" asked Abe.

Abraham nodded, biting into a sufganiyah.

"A very fascinating place," said Abe, warmly. "Very interesting indeed. Although I understand it's a bit troubled nowadays."

Abraham shrugged. "It is what it is."

"How do you mean?"

"Bunch of whiners, if you ask me."

"Agreed, my friend," said Abe. "Or… wait, do you mean Israel or Palestine?"

Cynthia and Malcolm came down the stairs to see three groups, all with varying levels of tension between their members. Their mothers both turned to look at them .

"Well you two have been gone for a while," said Lois.

"So what, Mom?" said Malcolm. "She was just showing me around."

"Cynthia, sweetie," said Irene. "Where did your father go?"

"I think he ran off again. Probably already in Mexico by now. You just remind him too much of our dear, lost brother."

"Cynthia, please, I told you how much I hate those weird jokes."

Cynthia hopped off the steps. "Well you should know, mom. He's getting soused in the den with Malcolm's Dad." She went towards the kitchen and Malolm followed.

"Oh, Dear…" said Irene, turning to Lois. "I'm so sorry."

"Believe me," said Lois, "if Fred hadn't offered, Hal would have found another way. He's been a nervous wreck all night."

"Nervous? Why?"

"Oh, it's silly, really. He thought you would hate us."

Irene laughed. "Is that so?"

"Well, with what our sons have put your Cynthia through, it wouldn't be much of a surprise. For whatever reason she still likes one of them, so here we are."

"Well, we certainly understand. Some kids are more difficult to manage. It's no one's fault, really."

Lois paused, smiling all the while. She folded her hands together and leaned on her elbows. "Do you find your kids hard to manage? From New York, that is?"

Irene's eyes narrowed slightly. "I suppose that depends on what you mean."

"Frankly, it must be easy with three kids out of your hair. Of course kids aren't hard to manage when you're not living with them."

Irene folded her hands together like Lois and leaned in. "I'm always there for my girls. Of course, serving as a diplomat to some of the most important leaders in the world makes it hard for me to be with them all the time. But you know as well as any mother what I'd be willing to do for them. That doesn't mean I have to give up my life. Didn't you have dreams?"

Lois scoffed. "About a million, but you have to accept reality sometime. My kids need constant supervision. If I weren't around to break their spirits they'd have had their dad chained to a pillar in a basement somewhere feeding him baloney sandwiches."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I, for one, hope to keep the girls' spirits intact."

"Just wait till one of them does something stupid. They might be getting older but there's still time."

"Don't you get tired of being this cynical?"

Lois picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "Can't say that I do."

Malcolm and Cynthia left the kitchen with half full plates of food and sat down with the group playing dreidel.

"Miriam, where did you get all that money?"

"We're playing high stakes."

"If you want in, you have to add to the pot. Otherwise, don't waste my time," said Reese.

"Oh, we'll just watch."

"Whatever," said Reese. He spun the dreidel and got Hay. "Well, well, well. Looks like I have all the luck tonight. Fork it over!"

Miriam rolled her eyes and slid half her money towards him.

"This is it? Wow, you're really bad at your own game."

"Sorry," said Malcolm. "He's pretty ruthless. We should have warned you."

"Hey, Judith, did you know Dewey plays Piano?" said Cynthia

Judith adjusted her thick glasses and glanced at Dewey, then looked back at Cynthia. "So?"

"So you're both musicians."

She turned to Dewey. "We're both musicians."

"I heard," said Dewey.

…

"See, you've got a great opportunity, here," said Francis. "Now's the time to really live your life without your Mom and Dad trying to dictate your every move."

"I guess you're right," said Sandra. "I don't know, though, I don't really feel like they dictate my every move. I mean, law school was their idea but I didn't have to apply."

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't assume it's what you want just because they tell you it's what you want. You can't really know what's right for you and what's not until you've gotten out there and rebelled a little."

"Is that what you do?"

"You bet I do." Francis paused. "Well, actually, not so much anymore. But that just proves my point. If I had listened to everything my parents told me to do, I wouldn't be where I am today."

"So how did you rebel?

"Well… mostly just…" Francis searched for the right words. "Well, I set a car on fire once."

"Wow," said Sandra. "Then what happened?"

"I got sent to military school."

"So, you're saying I should destroy some property and then… join the army?"

"No, look, the point is I didn't get to where I am today by cowering in fear. You have to stop being afraid of the consequences and just do what you want."

Somewhere outside, Piama could be heard. "Francis? Where the hell are you!?"

Francis threw down his cigarette and stomped it out.

"Coming honey!" He turned toward Sandra. "Remember what I said. Oh, and don't tell my wife I was smoking."

…

"I'm…

… all …

… out," said Stevie.

"Can we just quit while we still have some dignity and a fraction of our money left?" asked Lloyd.

"I don't know why you're complaining," said Reese. "There's barely anything here, anyway. I could have sworn there was more, but I guess you're all just poorer than you look." Reese got up and counted his meager pile of money. "Oh well. Better than nothing." He smiled derisively at Miriam, who stuck her tongue out as he walked away. After a moment, she pulled off her shoe and took out a wad of cash.

"What's that?" asked Dewey.

"Your brother's money," said Miriam. "I have to admit, I thought he was pretty clever loading the dreidel. I've never seen someone use slight of hand that way. So I just gave it a try myself, but I cut out the middle man. I guess he was right. We can learn a lot from each other." Miriam snickered and went towards the kitchen.

Judith turned to Dewey. "What's your opinion on Schulmann?"

"He has his moments, but I can take him or leave him," said Dewey.

Judith nodded. "Same."

Abe could now be heard speaking passionately. "It's their holy land! They have every right to it!"

"Oh, I see, Mr. Kenarban," said Abraham. "Well, I say your toilet is my holy land, so you better just do your business somewhere else," said Abraham.

"You can be cheeky all you want, but it doesn't negate the fact that—"

Hal and Fred bounded down the stairs, shirts ruffled, a wave of booze fumes following them.

"Happy Hanaga everbuddy!" Fred bellowed.

"Fred!" shouted Irene.

"Dad?" said Cynthia and Malcolm in tandem.

"Malcolm, this is my good Fred friend. Er...good friend Fred," said Hal.

Lois got up and turned to Hal."Oh my god Hal!"

"Now lissen, Lois, everbuddy, be quiet. My fred Friend here has somethin asay"

"Thass right, Halm. Iss time for the Hanaga prayer."

"Hanukkah prayer?" said Miriam incredulously.

"Our dads are drunk," Judith whispered to Dewey, who nodded in embarrassment.

"Dear Hanaga," Fred continued. "Thanks for all the good times."

"Good times!" Hal interjected.

"And thank you God for my beautiful daughters."

"Your father lovess you verr much!

"And uhh…"

"Okay," said Irene, getting up. "That's enough."

"I have something to add," said Hal.

"No, you don't," said Lois. She and Irene both approached their husbands at the same time to escort them off of the bottom step, which both seemed to be having trouble with. They shot each other a glance and paused. Lois shook her head and smiled and Irene began to laugh.

"Can someone tell Lloyd to get out of the bathroom?" asked Dabney, desperately

"You had your turn!" Lloyd's muffled voice could be heard saying from the end of the hall.

"Hey, whass that?" said Fred, pointing to Cynthia's arm.

Irene looked first and her eyes widened.

"Where did you get that, Cynthia?"

"Oh, Malcolm" said Lois. "That wasn't from you was it?"

"What?" said Malcolm. "It's not a big deal, it's just a present."

"Where did you get the money for that, it must have cost over fifty dollars!," said Lois.

"Think …

… higher," said Stevie.

"Shut up, Stevie!" said Malcolm.

The front door opened and Sandra strode in confidently. "Mom," she said. "I've decided to quit law school and pursue my real dream. I'm going to be a tattoo artist!"

"WHAT?" Irene gasped.

"A tattoo artist?" asked Miriam.

"You don't know how to draw," said Judith.

"Is that from the money your aunt gave you?" asked Lois.

"It's okay," said Cynthia. "It's really the thought that counts. If he needs the money—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Cynthia, it looks beautiful on you. Malcolm, we're going to have a serious talk about this."

"You're such a good boy, son," said Hal, tearing up.

"I was wrong about you Malgum," said Fred. "You're a good egg. You know this reminds me—"

"Shut up, Fred!" Irene interrupted. "Sandra, are you out of your mind? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Mom, I've thought a lot about this, and—"

"Oh, I seriously doubt that."

"Why can't you just support me!?" Sandra whined. She ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.

A tremendous rumbling sound could be heard, followed by a ghastly smell, and all looked to where it had come from. Dabney stood there, red-faced.

"I HAVE A CONDITION!" he cried, dissolving into tears on the floor.

XXXXX

Malcolm stood in the living room with Dewey while Reese and Francis hauled Hal into the car.

"Her family is kind of weird," said Dewey. "They have a nice house though."

"Yeah," said Malcolm. "Honestly, it makes me feel better. We're not so different after all. Except for the nice house."

After leaving the guest room to check on Sandra, Cynthia and Judith took a seat at the top of the stairs.

"His family is kind of weird," said Judith. "I hope you're prepared to deal with them if you want it to last."

"Did anyone ever tell you how charming you are, Judith?"

Next to a snoring Fred, Abe shook hands with Abraham.

"I suppose you make a good point," said Abraham.

"Hardly, my friend," Abe said, chuckling. "You've really taught me a lot."

"As have you"

Outside, Francis buckled his dad into the passenger seat.

"I hope everyone had a good Kwanza," said Hal.

Francis smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "The best, Dad."

Hal smiled and closed his eyes, resting his head on Reese's shoulder.

"Man," said Reese. "This night sucked."

Francis turned around to see Piama standing near him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey."

"So listen," both said.

"You go first," said Piama.

"No, you."

"Okay... "

"I'm sorry," they both said.

Smiling, they went in for a hug.

"Let's just try to have a better Christmas, okay?" asked Piama.

"You got it," said Francis.

"Presents, stockings," said Piama.

"Egg nog"

"With cinnamon?"

"Of course. And then we'll watch The Little Drummer Boy,"

Piama leaned back and looked at Francis, puzzled. "You like that one?"

"What? Why not?"

"I understand Rudolph or even that weird one with Mickey Rooney, but The Little Drummer Boy?"

"It's totally underrated, it's a classic!"

"Maybe as a horror movie. It gives me the creeps."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about! You always talk down about things I care about!"

"Oh, so we're doing this again?"

The two of them got in and continued their argument behind Reese, who slowly bumped his head against the window in frustration.

Irene stood on the porch next to Lois, her face in her hands. She looked up at the sky and sighed.

"I've never had to deal with something like this," she said.

"You know, all things considered, it could be a lot worse."

"But she can't quit law school."

"Oh no, she's just grasping at straws. Francis had the same tattoo dream for about a week in highschool."

"Really? What did you do?"

"Oh, just showed him some nasty medical pictures, took him to a blood clinic to make him afraid of needles. That one wasn't hard at all."

"I've just… I have never been in a position where I had to willingly crush one of my child's dreams."

"Ah," said Lois, "it's easier than you think. Give me a call sometime, I'll give you some pointers."

Irene smiled weakly. "Well, I better get back in there," she said.

"Yeah," said Lois. "Thanks again for having us."

"Oh, it's our pleasure. Your son," she paused. "Malcolm's a nice kid. I think he makes Cynthia very happy. Thank you."

Lois smiled and waved, heading to the car. Irene opened the door to go inside, letting Dabney and Miriam come out before her. Dabney wore a pair of baggy corduroy pants from Abraham's closet. Miriam walked next to him with a plastic bag full of his old clothes.

"Here," she said, handing Dabney the bag. He took it and looked down in shame.

"It's okay, it's not really a big deal."

Dabney looked up and smiled.

"You mean that wasn't completely humiliating and I'm not a total embarrassment?"

"No, I mean I don't think my Grandpa wears those pants anyway."

Lloyd and Stevie caught up to them with Abe.

"Ready to go, gang?" asked Abe.

The three of them nodded and got into the car. As Stevie's ramp was lowered, he looked towards the house, where only Cynthia and Malcolm now stood on the porch. They waved, and Stevie smiled and waved back.

"Happy…

… Hanukkah," he said.

"Malcolm, are you coming?" yelled Lois from the car.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," said Malcolm. He turned to Cynthia. "Thanks again for inviting us. Sorry my family was weird, like usual."

Cynthia laughed. "Hey, well you saw how weird mine can get, too. I'd consider it a good learning experience."

"Yeah, I guess," said Malcolm. "Although mine isn't nearly as impressive as yours."

"Malcolm…" said Cynthia. "You think all this impresses me?" She gestured towards her house. "Just because Francis isn't in law school or your Dad works a nine to five doesn't make you less than us. I like you guys. You're authentic and kind. Even though some of you piss me off sometimes," she said, poking Malcolm in the chest.

Malcolm laughed. Cynthia touched her bracelet and opened her mouth to say something, but then looked down and shook her head. She looked back up, a new intensity now in her eyes. "This has been the weirdest… and the best Hanukkah I've ever had."

She reached her hand out. Malcolm took it.

She leaned in close, and kissed him softly on the cheek.

He stood there, somewhat dumbstruck, continuing to hold her hand tightly.

"Malcolm?"

"Yeah?"

"We've been standing here for like twenty seconds."

"Oh."

Lois honked her horn.

"Well, uh," he said, "Goodnight Cynthia."

"Goodnight, Malcolm."

He turned and walked towards the car, looking her way one last time before getting in. The car backed out and headed down the street towards home.

"He's different," Cynthia heard her mom say. She had snuck around the back and now stood near the hedges, smoking a cigarette. "In a good way," she continued.

"Mom, you're not smoking again, are you?"

"Don't tell your dad. He still thinks highly of me."

They stood there silently.

"He seems a little insecure, though. Watch out for that."

"There's hope for him, yet, but you're not wrong, unfortunately. His head gets bigger every day."

Irene laughed. "Just like your father."

"I should hope we don't end up like—" Cynthia paused, looking at her Mother. "Sorry."

"No need," said Irene, crushing the cigarette out on the ground. "Your Dad and I… well, it's not over till it's over."

Irene ascended the steps and walked inside. Cynthia looked up into the sky. The stars gave off a strong light. She sighed deeply and again touched her bracelet, looking down at it with a slight smile.

"I hope so," she said.