When the envelope I had been waiting very impatiently for arrived in the mail that following week, I could hardly contain my excitement, but forced myself to keep it under control until I could go talk to Zac. He was the only person I was nervous to tell. Everyone else would be supportive and excited, but he was the only other person who would be directly affected by the envelope’s contents.
I couldn’t even open it until I got the library where I was meeting him on Sunday afternoon to finish the papers we’d both been putting off.
“There you are! I was starting to think you’d ditched me!” he said, smiling widely at me as I sat across the table from him, “What are you so smiley about?”
Wordlessly, I placed the still sealed envelope on the table and pushed it across towards him.
“The University of Illinois? What do they want?” he asked, picking up the envelope.
“I’m not sure,” I said with a shrug, “Hopefully me. I applied for pre-acceptance into their Psychology Master’s Program and I’ve been waiting for an answer.”
“Wow. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, turning the envelope over in his hands.
“I was afraid that if I told anyone it’d jinx it. It’s a good program and it’s not in the suburbs. I need to live somewhere else before I die, even if it’s only to get my Master’s degree,” I admitted, wishing I could snatch the envelop back from his hands.
“Wow…” he sighed, setting the envelope down.
“You said that already,” I said nervously, taking it back from the tabletop and holding it in my lap.
“I just had no idea you were looking to go there for grad school, that’s all. It’s a long way from here.”
“Not as far as it could be,” I pointed out, eliciting a weak nod from him.
“Well, are you going to open it?” he asked me.
“I’m not so sure I want to now,” I admitted, avoiding his eyes.
“Why?”
“I just thought you’d be excited for me, that’s all. I think I’ll just wait to open it at home later.”
“Esme, I didn’t mean to make you think that I don’t care or wouldn’t be supportive. I just got caught off guard. I thought that we had a few more months before we had to start talking about next year, that’s all. Please open it,” he encouraged. I sighed and gave in, picking up the envelope once again and tearing it open as neatly as I could.
The envelope was thin, but I didn’t let that discourage me. I tried my hardest to avoid the thudding in my chest as I unfolded the sheet of paper to find out whether or not I’d be getting to go to grad school at my top choice university.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“I got in,” I said as a smile spread its way across my face.
“Congratulations, hun. That’s great!” he said, giving me a genuine smile that I could tell had a touch of nervousness behind it.
“Thank you! I’m so excited! Their program is really competitive, but apparently I made the cut!” I said, standing so I could go sit down next to him. He grabbed my hand and placed a kiss to my knuckles.
“Well, we need to do something to celebrate. Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?” he asked.
“Sure!” I smiled, “But are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine! Really!” he claimed, “So, we’ll do dinner tonight.”
“Where are we going?” I asked. He scoffed and leaned back in his chair.
“And ruin the surprise? Come on, Esme. I thought you knew me by now!” I just smiled at him and grabbed my backpack from the floor to start in on the paper I was so desperately dreading.
At eight that night, Zac and I were seated at a cozy booth in a cute and quaint Mexican restaurant in a suburb adjacent to Jonesburg.
“How did you hear about this place?” I asked as I perused the menu.
“My family and I found it on the way home from freshman year. Pretty much as soon as we left we all realized that we were starving and stopped at the first place we found off the exit ramp, and this was it! Their chicken enchiladas are amazing, by the way,” he said and I noticed that he seemed to have calmed down considerably since that afternoon, “So, did you call your parents to tell them the news?”
“Yes, and they’re happy for the most part. I think they would’ve liked that have had me a little closer to home, but they’ll deal with it. They know it’s a strong program, so they’re being pretty supportive,” I explained, abandoning my menu for the chips and salsa that had just been placed on the table.
“Well, that’s good. But I’m sure it’ll be hard for their only child to be more than an hour and a half away for the first time ever.”
“And I know that it will be weird for me, too. But, I’m 22 years old and it’s just time for me to strike out on my own.”
“Oh Esme, the pioneer woman,” Zac laughed, “Blazing a trail into the wild unknown of central Illinois.”
“Shut up,” I said, trying not to laugh, “You know what I mean.”
“Of course I do. You mean that I should buy you a covered wagon and some oxen for Christmas,” he said. I picked up a chip from the basket and threw it at his chest.
“How did we get from grad school to a real life version of Oregon Trail?” I asked with a smile.
“It was all you,” he said, holding up his hands in mock defeat, “But, what do you want for Christmas?”
“How can it be almost Christmas already? That doesn’t even seem possible,” I said, stirring my margarita idly.
“It’s a calendar thing,” he shrugged, “But seriously, what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Nothing at all?”
“You mean besides you?” I winked, knowing it’d make him roll his eyes.
“Well, you already know you’re getting that. Hopefully many times before Christmas,” he laughed, “So, you’re just going to make me pick something out, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, it’s how it has to be. I’m going to make you work for my adoration from now on. I won’t be giving it up freely any more.”
“Yeah, you are pretty loose in that department,” he said.
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” I said, unable to keep a serious face and grinning back at him. In that moment, I realized just how happy I was with Zac. Something about us just felt right and had since the first time we’d spoken.
“Are your parents abandoning you for Christmas, like they did at Thanksgiving?” he asked, sounding almost hopeful. I shook my head and placed another handful of chips onto my plate.
“Nope. It’s going to be a typical Lee family Christmas full of spiked eggnog, badly sung Christmas Carols, and our annual watching of “Christmas Vacation.” It’s the same every year, but it’s us,” I explained.
“Do you celebrate on Christmas or Christmas Eve?” he asked.
“Christmas Day. We don’t do anything Christmas Eve and never have.”
“Well what a coincidence! Our family only celebrates on Christmas Eve! We tend to just veg out all day on Christmas,” he said, “So, would you be interested in coming to my house for Christmas Eve?”
“I don’t know…” I started, visions of Thanksgiving flooding my brain.
“I’d really like it if you would. It could be a clean slate for your visits to my parent’s house. See, my theory is that if it goes well enough, it’ll completely cancel out the horror that was Thanksgiving. So, what do you say?” he asked, looking at me with so much hope and expectance that I couldn’t have said no, even if I wanted to.
“I’d love to, but only if you come to my house at some time on Christmas Day to meet my parents,” I said.
“I think we have a deal. Pending the weather is workable, of course.”
“No, I’m going to have to insist that you get to my house on Christmas Day even if you have to cross country ski there,” I laughed.
“I’m way too out of shape to cross country ski,” he said, rubbing his hand over his stomach, “I mean, look at this gut!”
“You are such a girl, I swear,” I said, shaking my head at him, “We both know that you have a great body, so just shut up and stop fishing for compliments.”
“I would never do that!” he gasped.
“Just drink your beer,” I laughed at him.
Now I just had to survive trip #2 to the Hanson home, and he just had to survive meeting my parents, which included gaining the approval of my father, which was not always easy to do. I knew that if Zac would only be himself, he’d be fine. Or at least I hoped he would be, because for the first time, I actually cared about whether or not my dad would approve of my boyfriend.