By now I have made clear that mine is just the ordinary, next Latin family. True, I wish we could have some nice Hispanic celebrations, but when it comes to any family holiday, I don't think anyone has a choice but to spend it at home.

'Christmas is a family tradition, you have to spend it with us. For New Year's Eve you do whatever the fuck you want, I don't care, but you're staying home for Christmas' were the words my mother used to raise me.

In 2012, when I was living in a different state, my grandmother worked all of her emotional blackmailing prowess to make me go spend the holidays with the family. Obviously, that invite was not extended to Peter. Not that it mattered anyway, he was going through the very same thing.

Let's remember I was working as Head Manager for a school in a town driven by looks. I lost count how many people lost their respect for me upon seeing the shitty phone I owned. I liked it, but obviously my own opinion about the objects I owned and used were utterly irrelevant.

It was the height of the war between iPhones and the Galaxy S, when they launched models 4 and 3 respectively. I had never had a smartphone, always deeming them too ugly and unoriginal, but the pressure to have a presentable phone (or, as my friends said, rich people's phone) was enormous, so I went with the obvious choice: I got the blue one. I didn't care which one it was, but I wanted it blue.

Peter was jealous.

He made his mother promise to get him the same phone when he came home for Christmas. I didn't really mind it. I have this awful tendency of not minding things I don't feel. But his request was weird.

'Can you please not use yours in front of me at least until mine arrives?'

Hang on a second, I thought. Is this fucker asking me not to use my own phone in my own house? Really? A'ight.

Things turned out to his favour, considering my phone was delivered one day after I had left back to my hometown, so I only got it when I returned after the year had turned, about two weeks after he had gotten his. Maybe it was for the best.

The semester had been exhausting at the very least and I didn't feel like going anywhere, just staying home and relaxing. I was feeling for too long already that something was terribly wrong with all that promotion thing. I will get to it in a future opportunity, that's not the part of the story I want to share right now.

As expected, the whole family gathered for Christmas. Peter wasn't there. He didn't feel like family anyway. During the holidays he was so busy catching up with his friends we didn't even meet once. It struck me as weird. I was living with my boyfriend and none of us bothered to spend time together over the holidays. We did spend New Year's together, though. But like my mother taught me, who the fuck cared about that? Plus, it was another night I was forced to spend with people I didn’t like. At least his sister was there, so I had someone intelligent to talk to, even if a full decade younger.

Ten months later, as we entered October and celebrated my mother’s birthday, my grandmother came to ask the question she thought had an obvious answer but which I was terrified of hearing.

I had been living with Oliver for a fantastic month. Yes, the toilet was still a huge problem. Actually, the whole bathroom was. It had a lowered wooden ceiling that turned the place into a fucking furnace and we were positive every time the neighbour upstairs took a shower, the water leaked down our wall. The rest of the flat was somewhat okay, but we were so happy living together we never actually cared. Oh! How could I have forgotten? The view we had from the windows were truly unforgettable! Our flat faced the concrete wall of the repair shop next to us.

Our routine was amazing. The school I was teaching at was at walking distance, but I still took a bus home every night. What could I do? The bus stop was at the door of the building. It would take Oliver another hour and a half to finally arrive, which was time enough for me to cook dinner and put the clothes in the washer. I always greeted him by the door, took off his uniform and asked him to hang the clothes after we ate. We soon developed the habit of having dinner together every night talking about each other’s days. No phones, no distractions. After the chores were done for the night, we would do whatever we felt like, be it spending more time together on the couch watching some movie, or enjoy some quality me-time, him on the living room playing videogames and me on the bedroom on the pc. No matter what, we would always go to bed together. None of us worked in the morning, so we could always go to bed at any hour we desired and always have a lazy sleep-in.

During one of those countless and fantastic nights I decided to work on some of my fortune-telling magic over dinner time. I knew my grandmother well, so predicting her behaviour was quite easy. My mother’s birthday was coming, which always meant she would ask me if I were going to her place for Christmas, and there was only one answer she would accept.

But things felt different this time. With Peter I had about eight months of a hectic living situation when he felt like a maid I fucked once or twice. Oliver made me feel like I was building a home from the very first moment we entered that flat. The purity of my feelings for him was so strong, my urge to protect him from heartbreak was a constant in me. We had both been raised to believe Christmas was a family holiday. We were becoming each other’s family. There was no way I could not have him by my side.

My mother had locked herself up in her room to avoid even seeing him the day I moved out. My odds were awful.

I told him all about my family drama around the holidays.

‘Just so I know on which ground I’m treading’ I tried to sound casual, but failed miserably. I could tell by the look on his face. ‘And being naïve to the point of blind stupidity, also. But we’re spending Christmas together, right?’

‘Are you sure you’re strong enough for this?’

‘Honestly, no. But I’m strong enough to stick by my decision that we’re bound to be together, especially at a holiday that is so important for the both of us.’

‘I like that.’

‘Me too. But… say the impossible happens and I get to take you to my family home. Would you go?’

‘Ralph. Anything to spend time with you and make you feel loved and special and happy. But aren’t you being a little too far-fetched here? Don’t put your hopes that high, my love. The fall will be harder.’

‘I know, I know. But… I think I have an idea that might work.’

‘Which one?’

‘Grandma.’

And right I was to predict she would jump ahead of herself. On the first of October she rang me to confirm I would go to her house to celebrate my mother’s birthday. I knew that wasn’t the real reason of her call and she wasted no time cutting to the chase.

‘Are you also coming for Christmas?’ she asked right after I had confirmed my visit for two days after. I sighed. The opportunity had presented itself in a better fashion than I had expected. Still, I felt bad for saying the words I knew I had to.

‘Look, Nanna. I love you like life and I always have. But as you taught me, Christmas is a time for family. I can’t go if it means I’ll have to leave mine behind.’

‘But we’re your family, Ralph.’

‘I know that. But so is Oliver. And he is not the one rejecting part of my family. I’m sorry, Nanna.’

‘Okay, then. I’ll see you on the third. I love you, my grandson. Take care.’

‘You too, Nanna. Love you.’

I felt like shit and hopeful at the same time. For one second, I asked myself if that was manipulating the old woman, but that wasn’t my intention. If anything, I had been completely honest with my feelings.

We celebrated my mom’s birthday without a single mention of Oliver or Christmas whatsoever, but my mother rang me the next day. I could tell by the small talk that she was mastering the courage to say what she wanted.

‘Your grandmother told me you’re not coming for Christmas and she told me why.’

I didn’t say anything. There was no question there.

‘Say, if I invited him, do you think you two could come?’

‘And would you do it with an open heart?’

‘I would. I promise.’

‘So, we will. But you have to invite him first.’

‘All right. Can we come over on Sunday?’

‘Of course you can! I’ll cook us a nice Sunday lunch. He’ll be off this Sunday, so it will be perfect.’

We hung up and I told Oliver about it.

‘You really had a plan, didn’t you?’

‘Well, not exactly a plan. I just knew my Nanna’s priorities.’

I woke up early on Sunday and made us our first Sunday lunch, which are normally a national tradition. I was proud for being the host for the first time and I made sure everything was pristine. They arrived and we welcomed them to our home. My mother and grandmother had with him a similar conversation to the one I had had with his father, regarding how to better call us both.

‘Ralph was always addressed by his middle name in school because Ralph is such a popular name. Can we do it with you? We’ll call him Ralph and you Oliver.’

‘That will be great!’ he replied with a smile.

We talked about a lot of things. I could tell that as the afternoon progressed, both my grandmother and mother were starting to see the amazing human being he was and how happy he made me. Shortly after four I took them to their car that was parked on the sidewalk, thanked them for the visit, and kissed them goodbye.

‘That was fun’ I said as I locked the flat door behind me. ‘True, she didn’t invite you for Christmas, but it could all have gone waaaay worse.’

‘That is true, my love’ Oliver said as he wrapped his arms around me. ‘And don’t worry about Christmas. She just needs time.’

‘I know. But you want to know something funny? I wish I could be in their car right now just to hear my grandma scolding her.’

‘What do you mean—’

The phone rang cutting him midsentence. If I knew my grandma as much as I thought I did, I knew exactly who that was and what that was about.

‘Ralph! I’m so sorry!’ Yes, it was my mother. ‘I totally forgot to invite him for Christmas.’

‘Yes, you did’ were any of us supposed to believe that? It really didn’t matter, though.

‘I’m so sorry. Can I make amends?’

‘Always.’

Less than five minutes later, she was knocking at our door. I told Oliver to get it.

‘Oliver. Good, it’s you I wanted to see. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I came here for one thing and I didn’t do it. Please, will you come and spend Christmas with us this year?’

‘I would love to.’

‘Oh. That’s so nice. But won’t you want to spend it with your family?’

‘But I will spend it with my family.’

With that she left looking puzzled and I couldn’t hold my smile any longer. I hugged him from behind just like he had done moments before.

‘Thank you’ I said as I turned him to kiss me and we started making lazy love for the rest of the afternoon.