A Holly Jolly Ever After

by Julie Murphy

“Because it’s embarrassing to be thirty-two and not know what my body does when I have an orgasm, you know? It’s embarrassing to feel like I’m the only one who’s behind, who’s not in on some secret that I really, really want to be in on, but I just don’t know how to be. Ugh, it’s even embarrassing to be embarrassed!”

Watching her fall in love with pleasure was turning out to be one of the greatest delights of my life.

And even though it was temporary, I couldn’t help feeling like it was a gift. A gift I’d never forget, even after we left Christmas Notch, and each other, behind.

And what if this was virtue? What if this was purity? The raw generosity of sharing space and pressure and pleasure, the honesty that came with each moan and every breath? What if good sex only made me more like Winnie Baker in the end . . . happier, more hopeful, closer to my own soul and the soul of the person I was with?

“She’s my person,” I told him. It had been ten weeks now since I’d left Christmas Notch, and I’d spent all of it falling asleep to her old movies and reaching for her every morning. “I love Winnie Baker. And I thought when I found my person, I’d just be overjoyed that they existed and that there actually was someone out there for me. But this fucking hurts, Nolan. I’m terrified that this is how our story ends and the only future out there for me is pizza and being a semi-okay uncle.”

‘You let me star in a movie with the girl of my dreams and the memory of this experience will be the last thing I think of every night for the rest of my life.’

His warmth and sweetness were sometimes almost painful to me, in a way I couldn’t even explain to myself. They made me feel worthy and unworthy at the same time; they felt like gifts when I’d given nothing in return.

“I don’t believe in Sky Daddy,” I said. “But for me, being Jewish has always meant tradition, and family, and this—I don’t know—connection with grandparents who died before I could know them and even the generations of Liebermans who came before me.”

And Dad, well, he sent me a seven-word text that I screenshotted for when I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. That’s going to be one lucky kid.

“I wanted space, but not anymore. You gave me what I asked for and somehow still found a way to be here for me and the baby. You gave me what I needed without any obligation or expectations. You loved me, Kallum. You loved me in the exact way I needed.”

I want moments on purpose. I want you on purpose.”