I run my fingers down the stitched black leather, nervously admiring the elegant curves and plush contours. “You’ve got a very nice car, Mrs Glassner.”
“Thank you, Adam,” she says, “That’s kind of you to say.” Her eyes flash on mine in the rear-view mirror before returning to the road, navigating us out of the chaos of the airport’s arrivals terminal.
Monica, her daughter, riding shotgun, turns in her seat to face me, giving me a warning glare. I shrug.
“Remind me again,” Mrs Glassner continues, “How did you two meet? In class?”
“No,” Monica shakes her head, “It was through a friend of a friend. Erica Garcia, you remember her? Mary’s friend? Well, anyway, Adam’s her cousin.”
“Oh!” her mom says, “Well, that’s very brave of you, Adam, spending the holidays with your girlfriend’s family. Won’t your own family be missing you, though?”
“Not really,” I say, “My mom and all her sisters are nurses, and they’re always working Christmas and the other holidays. Holiday pay, you know? We’ll have our family dinner the week after.”