The Russian's Christmas Present

When we break away, his eyes are on me and I swallow hard, looking up at a house that could be on the cover of Town & Country.

“Why are we here, again?” I ask, then clarify. “I mean, why am I here, again?”

“Two reasons. I want to let my family know I’ll be spending Christmas at my home with my girl. I want them to see us as us. Together. And second, I have something to pick up.”

He exits his side of the vehicle and a minute later we are inside the front door and I feel like I’ve been transported to some other world. The marble floors are highlighted with hand-woven rugs in jewel tones, and crystal chandeliers hang above and in the center of both rooms that flank the entryway.

Martel leads me down a long hallway until we are standing in a kitchen gleaming with stainless steel and carved, cherry cabinets above black, marble countertops.

“Martel.” His mother glances up from her seat at a long dining table in front of a wall of leaded-glass windows. She gives me a cursory glance, then stands. “We weren’t expecting you until later. And, I wasn’t aware you would be bringing a guest.”

“Where’s Dad?” Martel squeezes my fingers. “And Grandpa.”

“Your father is in his study and your Grandfather is resting.” She gives me another hard look, then addresses Martel. “You know, last night I was told you were both quite rude to Tabitha and her mother. I’ve had to apologize for you. I’m sorry, young lady…I don’t know where you and Martel met, but whatever game you were playing last night was not funny. Using his own debit card to pay for the auction. It’s all quite embarrassing, Martel.”

Martel shakes his head as my cheeks heat up. “This isn’t a game, Mother. And you’ll talk to Bria with respect, or not at all. I came here as a courtesy, to let you know Bria and I will be spending Christmas at my place.”

“Spending Christmas?” A man’s voice comes from behind and I turn to see an enormous man in a pin-striped suit. Bald headed, with a white goatee and a crystal glass full of clear liquid. He’s got the same blue eyes as Martel and although older, his general size and surly demeanor tell me this is his father. “You know we always spend our traditional Christmas here. Family only.”

“Bria is my family.”

“What?” His mother squeals. “What is this all about, Martel? What’s come over you? Maria told me, excuse me, Bria, but she told me your young lady told her she lived on Pines Ave. I’m sorry, dear. It’s just, is this some sort of scam? Are you looking for money?”

“She’s not looking for money.” Another voice, softer, familiar, comes in from behind and I turn to see Martel’s Grandfather wheeling himself into the kitchen.

“Father—” Martel’s mother starts, but the older man cuts her off with a stern glare.

His grandfather comes closer, taking Martel’s hand. “I knew it as soon as I saw you two together last night.”

“Knew what?” Martel’s father’s voice booms. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s the one.” The old man’s eyes twinkle. “I’d know that look anywhere.”

“This is preposterous.” His mother rolls her eyes. “Martel, this is beneath you. You belong next to your father, running the company. It’s time you grew up, gave up whatever this chip is you have on your shoulder and stop playing the whole average-working-man game. Your father worked hard to provide us with this life. A life everyone envies. You’ve had your fun on the wrong side of the tracks but enough is enough.”

His grandfather folds his hands over his lap and gives Martel a smile and a shrug.

“If I wasn’t sure before I got here today that the path I’d taken was the right one for me, I know now. I have to thank you both. Mom. Dad. I hope you’ll be a part of our life. Our life. Bria and I, but that’s going to be up to you. If you disrespect her ever again, we’re done. Grandpa, you are welcome in our home anytime. I’ll build you your own wing, you can come live with us. But, right now, I’m taking Bria and giving her the Christmas she deserves. Grandpa, I’d like to pick up something from your room before I go, if that’s alright with you.”

His grandfather gives him a knowing look on a nod. “Be my guest.”

With that, Martel is pulling me down the hall as I look over my shoulder at his parents, both standing wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open. “Sorry. I hope you have a Merry Christmas!”

Martel leads me down a long hallway, then stands outside a doorway. “One second and we’re going. Wait here.”

He disappears inside the room and comes back out a minute later. “What did you get?”