“Drink up,” I said. “Our flight leaves in two hours.” I’d managed to get two tickets at a bargain price by accepting a less-than-ideal departure time on Christmas day. “Two hours?” said Peter.“I thought you said we were leaving at seven?”The several drinks I’d had that evening didn’t do much to dull Peter’s sharp tone. He’d wanted to stay in and be romantic because we’d be in the air Christmas morning. It had been my idea to spend Christmas Eve in a bar. “Oops, I guess I mixed it up.” We paid the check and went out into the bitter December cold. Peter hailed a cab. He told the driver one stop and then we were going to LaGuardia. He didn’t speak to me in the car. I didn’t care. Once inside the apartment, I fed the cats, used the bathroom, and then contemplated whether I had packed the right clothes. “Holly, the meter’s running; let’s go.” I sighed. “I have the bags; just grab those gifts.” The paper bag holding the gifts tore as I handed it to the cabbie and presents scattered all over First Avenue.
