Mark and Maureen walked up to the steps of a large white house in the middle of suburban street, the thrill of meeting the Cohens eating at Maureen. Mark stood next to her, his duffle bag over one shoulder and her suitcase in his hand. Mark stopped, almost scared to enter the house with his girlfriend. Despite the warmth of his new coat and scarf, his cheeks were pink as ever.

"Pookie, aren't you excited?" Maureen beamed, almost dropping the stack of presents in her hands.

"Thrilled," he replied. Maureen obviously missed the sarcasm dripping off his voice. They stepped forward, Mark pushing open the door and dropping the bags.

Maureen gently placed the presents down. "Where's the tree?"

"Um, we don't have a Christmas tree," Mark replied, taking off his coat. "My parents only celebrate Hanukkah."

"Oh," she replied, removing her coat.

"Marky, is that you?" an annoyingly high-pitched voice belonging to a once blonde with now graying hair dressed in an obnoxious pink sweater. "Marky, we missed you." She ran over to Mark and kissed his cheek.

"Hi, Mom," he replied, kissing his mother. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Maureen."

"Hi sweetie," Mrs. Cohen took Maureen into a hug.

"Your house is lovely," Maureen said politely.

"Thank you," she replied, grinning ear to ear. "Won't you come and meet everyone?"

Mark took Maureen's hand and led her down a hall after his mother.

"Look who's back from the big city," Mrs. Cohen almost squealed to a living room full of people.

"Everyone, this is Maureen," Mark introduced. "That's my dad, my sister Cindy, her husband Ron, and her kids Annie, Jennie, and Susie."

"Hey everyone," Maureen waved, allowing Mark to lead her to the empty love seat.

Twenty questions followed for the next twenty minutes until dinner.

"So what do you do?"

"Are you taking good care of our Marky?"

"Do you have your own place?"

"Where are you from?"

"Do you have any STDs that you could hurt our Marky with?" Mark gave his mother an angry glare and a "MOM!" for that one.

Maureen answered them all perfectly.

"I'm a performing artist."

"Marky and I are just fine."

"Yes, I do."

"I was born in Pennsylvania and grew up in Hicksville."

She grinned at the last one. "Mrs. Cohen, rest assured that I would not dream of hurting your Marky with any disease."

Mr. Cohen sniffed the air. "Is that the food?"

"Oh, yes!" The woman quickly got up and ran to the kitchen. "Dinner!"

They headed for the kitchen, a warm meal awaiting them.

"This is delicious," Maureen complimented, eating almost everything in sight.

"Does your mother make this for Hanukkah?" Mrs. Cohen asked.

"Oh, well, actually we usually have a ham for Christmas dinner," Maureen replied coolly.

"Mom, Maureen isn't Jewish," Mark explained.

"Oh," she said, almost snobbishly.

"Mark and I celebrated Christmas over the weekend," she went on. "Don't worry, I made sure his first Christmas was enjoyable. And I must say my first Hanukkah is coming along wonderfully."

"That's nice, dear," Mrs. Cohen said. "Sweetie, pass the potatoes."

--

After dinner, they exchanged small gifts for the first night of Hanukkah. The children all received dreidels, as well as the adults.

"Oh what a pretty top," Maureen said, once they were in the privacy of Mark's old room.

"It's a dreidel," Mark said. "It's like a top, but it's a game."

"Oh," she replied, twirling it on the floor

"We get better presents as Hanukkah goes on," Mark said. "Like on the eighth day the kids get something big, and my mom usually makes me a sweater or something."

"They're not that bad."

"What?"

"Your parents, your sister, your nieces," Maureen said. "They're not all that bad. You made them out to be awful. Cindy's actually really nice."

"Well, yeah I guess, they aren't that terrible."

"Sweetie, come here. I want to play strip dreidel."