"This one is for Ruiz," Miss Cha Cha grinned at me, handing me yet another package that had mysteriously appeared under the tree last night as if indeed Santa had came.

"For me?" I felt overwhelmed. "Miss Cha Cha..."

"Open it. You'll like it," Ambrose said, hugging me from behind on the floor against the couch, as he had done for the past hour. Baby Doll was stealthing around the tree, winding around brightly colored boxes and sniffing them inquisitively one by one.

"This one is for Baby Doll. Maybe we can distract her," Ambrose said, dragging out a triangle shaped package nearby to us and holding it up. "You want to open it for her?" he asked, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Okay," I giggled. As I took it, it started jingling. Baby Doll's head snapped up immediately. We all laughed. Quickly, I ripped open the funny bag and to our delight inside were festive kitty jingly balls. I shook them in their netting and Baby Doll went crazy, jumping at them.

"They're her favorite. Cat nip jingly balls. They always get lost," Ambrose chuckled behind me. "I'll get them open quick. Here." I handed them to him, looking up at his happy face.

I couldn't remember a time where I had felt this comfortable and happy. So loved. It made me think again, as I had done all night. But I didn't get to dwell long.

Over my shoulder came a bright red jingle ball and like lightning Baby Doll's legs went absolutely everywhere all at once as her excitement ricocheted like dynamite explosions. She flew after it to the other corner of the living room, making huge meowings at it in her ragdoll kitty joy. We burst into laughter again at her and I couldn't describe the overwhelming elation in my soul.

"Now you," Miss Cha Cha smiled warmly, leaning her elbows on her knees and setting her chin on her hands, watching me with tender eyes.

"Yeah, open it," Ambrose urged sweetly, squeezing me gently around the waist.

The gift was tiny in my hands, smaller than the ring box Ambrose had given me yesterday. It was like a gift you'd give to a fairy, like Tinker Bell. Slowly, I undid the little white ribbon, and underneath there was no tape holding the shiny gold gift wrapping. So when the present fell open in my hand, my other hand slapped over my mouth.

"Oh my god," I whispered, the tears in my vision blurring the silver key in my hand. I knew this key. This was...

"Our home is your home. You have a key now, so what happened yesterday will never happen again," Miss Cha Cha said. She looked so serious yet so delicate, kind, and wise on her perch on the chair beside to the tree.

"Miss Cha Cha made the key yesterday," Ambrose explained softly to me, kissing my ear in the process.

"You always have a place here," Miss Cha Cha went on, her voice the most no nonsense I'd ever heard it.

She really, truly meant it.

"...I don't know...what to say," I choked.

"It's okay, honey. You can cry. It's a lot to take in," Ambrose nuzzled into me as he said this, loving me.

"I've been crying too much," I sniffled, wiping my eyes with my hand.

"That's okay," Miss Cha Cha assured me, her voice going tender like a mother.

So, I cried.

Later on in the morning, surrounded by the most garish and loud wrapping paper I had ever seen, Miss Cha Cha, Ambrose, and I sat in our same places eating bunuelos. The jangling of the kitty jingly balls were rocketing around the house, seeming to come from all around us all at once. Every now and then, there would be a forlorn meowing somewhere in the apartment and Ambrose would chuckle and go free a jingle ball for Baby Doll.

The TV was on, a tape of It's a Wonderful Life in the VCR. Miss Cha Cha was watching it with intent, fixated on the screen. It was one of her favorite movies. So much so, that sometimes the three of us would play the "quote the entire movie as you watch it" game together. But this time, she was watching silently, the same bunuelo in her hand for fifteen minutes untouched.

In my pocket, my Christmas present to her felt like it was metaphorically burning a hole in my leg. Luckily, it was something that I could take anywhere. I was only waiting for the right moment to give it to her.

Ambrose got up from behind me. He did a few stretches, groaning as his neck cracked. "Gonna go to the bathroom," he announced.

"Okay," I smiled. He smiled back at me, then blew a theatrical kiss as he turned. I caught it in my hand and put it down my top. He burst into giggles and practically skipped out of the room.

Now was the time.

"Miss Cha Cha," I whispered, scooching next to her on the carpet. She looked down at me from her comfy chair next to the tree.

"Hmm?" she asked, leaning to me.

I stretched out my leg in my seated position and took the present out from my pocket. It was a piece of notebook paper, but what was on the paper I hoped would be enough.

"What is this?" Miss Cha Cha asked sneakily, knowing it had to be a good piece of gossip.

"Read it," I grinned.

She began. "'Do not show this to anybody'? Dios mio, what it is? Oh no, I say, 'what is it'?"

She was so excited she was forgetting English. I giggled. I watched her delighted brown eyes scan the paper back and forth, but confusion built in them and then they stopped. They stared, going wider and wider. Her face came up to the paper, practically pressing it to her face.

"What is this," she whispered in Spanish, sounding completely taken away.

A small bit of fear began to eat at me, at the tone of her voice. I couldn't figure out what her emotion was. "It's...it's Georgina's address," I said quietly, carefully.

"Where did you get this?" she asked slowly in Spanish, her voice sounding numb of feeling, breathy.

"We've been friends since September," I told her without any frill or dragging out. She deserved the truth. She'd done so much for me. I only wanted to repay the favor...but by her reaction, I couldn't tell if I had done something wonderful or something horrible. The scared feeling started to grow in my heart like ice.

Miss Cha Cha stared at the paper, her mouth slowly parting like she was going to say something. I waited, wanting to know.

Then without words, she sank to her knees from the chair, wrapped her hand around my shoulder, and her arms pulled me into a desperate embrace.

She left in the afternoon, leaving Ambrose and I alone. She claimed to need more stuffing, and would not take any of our protests. But I knew where she was secretly going. She was going to see Georgina, the perfect Christmas surprise, and I wasn't about to stop her. I just hoped the door man would let her up.

Left to our own devices, Ambrose was getting frisky and I was teasing him, not letting him have what he wanted. I loved this game, making him get to a fever pitch about it and then I'd pounce. But I wasn't going to pounce yet. "Go make me some hot chocolate and I'll think about it," I fake yawned, driving him crazy.

"Cookies with it?" he asked in eagerness.

"Of course cookies with it," I said snootily like a Princess, lifting my chin up in my showy snobbery.

He shot up to his feet from the couch, and practically ran into the kitchen. I liked watching him go. From the kitchen he called out. "You want some chili pepper with the cocoa? It's festive!"

I knew this game. Chili pepper is an aphrodisiac. I was so game. "Yes!" I called back to him.

"Awesome," he said excitedly and the sounds of his work filled my merry ears.

Just then the phone rang.

"Ah, let me get it! It might be from Miss Cha Cha's school," Ambrose said seriously, postponing our games.

"Of course," I called to him in agreement.

He picked up the phone, saying "hello" in a normal way. Then silence as he listened to the line. He was silent for a long time.

"Ambrose?" I called again, but as I did, he started speaking, but not to me.

"Yes, she is here. She is. Hold on."

...What in the world? But the only other person in the house was...

His concerned face appeared beyond the wall of the hallway. The white phone was pressed to his ear, the long beige cord trailing from it. He held out the phone to me now, starting to look upset. My breath caught in dread.

"It's your Mama," he said, so many things at once in his voice: protectiveness, fear, love, support, everything.

My breath came back all at once, too much. I choked on it.

"Sweetie," he whispered, but I heard it as I walked down the hallway. He took my hand in a tight grip as I took the phone from him. I pressed it to my ear and he led me to the table, pulling out the chairs beside each other and sitting me down across from him. We faced each other.

I pressed the receiver closer to my ear, staring into his caring eyes. "Bueno?" I asked, surprised my breath wasn't shaking.

"Ruiz," my Mama's voice came through.

"Si, Mama," I said, never looking away from Ambrose. I studied his face. His rounded, high cheek bones. His pointed elfish chin. His beautiful coffee skin.

"I've been looking everywhere! I even went to my sister's in Newark. Why didn't you call me?!"

I closed my eyes. Ambrose's grip tightened and I opened them again. He was staring at the phone with eyes like a viper. So he could hear what she was saying, so loud was her accusing voice. My hand adjusted in his, and looked at it, moving his fingers with mine.

"Why would I go to Jersey? Ambrose is right here," was all I could think to say.

"Ruiz," my Mama sighed.

"Si?" I said again. Ambrose was staring at me now, hearing me say his name to her. Slowly, he rose my hand to his lips and held it there, pressed to them. I thought of their lovely rosy color on my skin, and sighed audibly into the phone.

"Ruiz, come home now. It's Christmas. Your cousins are coming over later. I'm making turkey and bunuelos for the kids. You could help-"

"I already have bunuelos. Well, actually they're bunuelos colombianos. Miss Cha Cha made them," I informed her matter of factly. Suddenly, I wanted to chew on my nails, but Ambrose was holding my hand steadfast.

"Ruiz."

"Si, Mama."

"Why are you talking back to your Mama?"

I sighed again. Ambrose pressed his cheek to the palm of my hand, trying to cheer me up or show me love. It was so warm.

She continued after a moment. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately. You're never home. You never make dinner anymore. I got a call from McCrory's Pub saying you were supposed to work last night but you weren't there, they told me. And the disrespect yesterday, with the coat. I just don't get it, Ruiz."

Disrespect? She wanted to talk to me about disrespect? What kind of mother puts their child out in the cold?

'Disrespect,' Ambrose mouthed and shook his head. He kissed my fingers and held my hand, looking down at it and stroking the back like it was precious. I heard my mother's upset breathing on the phone as she waited for me to speak, to answer her, and then I had a thought. A crazy thought. Ambrose's caring, loving touch encouraged it in my head, this fledgling thought.

"You want to talk about disrespect," I said into the phone. Ambrose's chin jerked up. He looked at me with wide eyes. "How about what you did yesterday," I said to her. Yesterday. It seemed so long ago. So much had changed in not even thirty-six hours.

"What did I do? You refused a present your Mama gave you. Do you know how hard I worked for that coat? I'm still paying Susan back," she snapped.

"'What did you do'?" I said, indignant feelings filling me from my core. Ambrose's mouth dropped open.

"Tell me why you didn't want this fucking coat," she said, her tone like a raging bull, a challenge. All the times she'd used this voice with me invaded my head, including when she had thrown my shoe at me, accusing me of being a whore when all I had tried to do was help her. How dare she? Suddenly, I wanted my forty dollars back, too. Rage was filling my heart. I didn't want her coat. And she couldn't see the reasons.

"I don't wear boy clothes, Mama," I said, my voice rippling with all of my anger, my loathing of her unwillingness to listen and understand. My thoughts went to yesterday at the table, when I'd told her why. How she hadn't cared, said she 'already knew'. How did she already know? And if she already knew, why did she give that men's coat?

"Why can't you just wear the coat? It's a gift," she sighed now, her voice clearly exasperated with my behavior.

I decided to make her understand. "It's a men's coat. Do you know how that makes me feel? You said you knew I'm transgender. Why didn't you buy a women's coat, or at least something meant for both?"

"I wear men's clothing. Right now I'm wearing a men's watch," she replied. My face grimaced. Ambrose shook his head across from me.

"That's okay for you, but not for me. For me, that makes people think I'm a boy. Every piece of boy clothing I wear-"

But she cut me off. "It does not," she said, harshness stinging me, making me wince.

"Yes it does," I insisted. "Anyway, wearing boy clothes make me feel bad. It makes me feel like I'm doomed. Like I'll never get anywhere, be anybody. It makes me feel like I can't breathe, like it weighs one thousand pounds."

Ambrose's eyes went worried, his eyebrows arched. His mouth parted and he pressed my hand in his. "Oh, darling. I'm so sorry," he whispered so no one but I could hear.

I shook my head at him, giving him a little smile to show him I was okay. His lip pouted and he kissed the back of my hand again in love.

Her response was the opposite.

"It does not weigh one thousand pounds. This coat is made out of feathers and cotton," she sighed, getting even more annoyed. "That's all it is, fabrics."

"No, Mama. That's not all it is. It's cut for a man," I said, reiterating for the nth time.

"That's not the point."

"It is the point. You're not listening. Do you want to listen?" I was forcing myself to be calm now.

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm your Mama. You're my son."

You're my son.

That was it.

"I'm not your son. I'm your daughter. If you can't understand that-" my voice caught. Ambrose got up, his chair scraping noisily against the floor. I bit my bottom lip, feeling a pinch in my throat. He walked behind me, and I felt his hands on my shoulders. They began to massage as I began to cry.

My Mama was clearly thinking, silent. Moments passed. The clock's ticks were the only sounds in the room. Finally, she spoke. I held my breath.

Her voice came much calmer now. "You're going to have to give me time with this," she said in a small, resigned voice.

That was all I could really ask for, I realized. It was better than nothing, and my heart knew it.

"O-okay, Mama," I whispered, my voice catching in my tears. I wondered if she could hear my stuffy, crying tone over the phone.

"Eat something," she said, sounding neutral, clearly preparing to hang up.

"Okay, I'm sor-"

My shoulders were squeezed too tight, but not painfully, causing me to cut off in a startle. I didn't get to make sense of it before my Mama was talking again.

"Come home tomorrow," she added. It sounded like an order. I looked up at Ambrose. He was peering down at me, his lips pressed together. He was upset at my Mama. I didn't blame him one bit.

"A-actually," I sniffled. He was massaging my shoulders again. It sent a warmth radiating through me from his strong fingers. "Actually... I was- I want to live here...at least for a little while," I said, shaking inside at this outright defiance of her, but my voice was not trembling, amazingly.

"Ruiz, why would you do that," she sighed, her tone telling me that she had clearly had enough with my nonsense.

"I just...gotta," I said.

She let out a long exasperated breath, one which told of her spent tolerance in full.

And that was what made me the most confident, I realized, her spent tolerance. Tolerance. That's all she had for me. She may have loved me, but was she only capable of tolerance? I knew one thing was for sure: the person who was now massaging my shoulders, who lived here, didn't only tolerate me. He loved me. Accepted me. Wanted me to thrive, did all his best to ensure that happened. What was she doing?

"You do what you want," was all she had to say to my declaration of staying here. It put the nail in the coffin for me.

"Okay," I said, "good-bye, then."

The phone went dead. She didn't even respond to me. I sighed deeply and removed the receiver from my ear. Ambrose took it and went to return it to its cradle on the wall. Strangely, I didn't feel like crying anymore.

"Don't apologize to her," he said, startling me. I hadn't expected him to speak. But I guess I should have.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Don't apologize to her. She doesn't deserve apologies. Don't ever apologize for being yourself," he said, sitting across from me again and taking my hands. He squeezed them. "Promise me. Don't apologize for being yourself. Ever." His face was serious.

"Okay, I promise," I whispered, sincere, looking down at the kitchen tile.

"No, Ruiz. Say it louder. Please," he urged gently. "You have to stand up for yourself. Like you just did on the phone. I heard you. I know you can do it. I always knew, but you finally did it. Now it's my job to make you keep doing it. As your boyfriend, it's my job to get you to love yourself." He smiled kindly to me and my heart melted. He loved me this much.

"I promise," I smiled back at him, looking into his beautiful eyes.

He grinned at me and wiggled our hands in excitement, joy. I leaned in, kissing him in reward. I kissed him for everything, the support, loving me, truly loving me and not just toleration. I loved him so much. So much I could never tell him.

He pressed back in the kiss, and wrapped his arms around me. These pulled me into his lap, and his tongue entered my mouth.

It was with this I realized he already knew.

Later on that night, Miss Cha Cha came home and was all stories of her visit for me. When I told her about the phone call, Ambrose backing me up, she declared Jewish Christmas.

Ambrose burst into laughter. "What is that?" he snorted.

"Jewish Christmas. You know. When you get Chinese food on Christmas?" she said, clearly confused.

"Where did you- Miss Cha Cha, where did you learn that?" he laughed, doubling over on the table across from her. I started giggling, too. She looked very happily puzzled.

"From Paulie? You never had Jewish Christmas with him? We used to have Jewish Christmas all the time," she explained, a small smile on her face.

"What? That makes no sense?" I asked, still giggling, trying to get her to elaborate.

"Paulie was Jewish? He didn't celebrate Christmas. No presents. No tree. He used to take me to this great restaurant in China town every year because I didn't have anybody to celebrate Christmas with. I thought it was very nice of him," she smiled to herself, clearly remembering these things fondly.

"But...Miss Paula wasn't Jewish," Ambrose said quietly, confused.

"Yes, he was?" Miss Cha Cha asked quizzically, her eyebrows raising.

What in the world?

"But...I'm confused," Ambrose said, looking deeply so.

"You didn't know?" Miss Cha Cha asked, seeming concerned now in her behavior and tone. She leaned forward towards us across the table, looking shocked.

"N-no," Ambrose stuttered. He looked hurt, as if someone had struck him. I started to rub him between the shoulder blades, but he didn't notice.

"That is very weird," Miss Cha Cha admitted, her eyebrows knitted.

I was confused, too, but I knew there was a way to get answers. I placed my hand firmly against Ambrose's back, and felt it shuddering. With a deep breath, I knew I'd go to Georgina, who had known Paulie before any of us. Surely she'd know who was correct.

"I'm hungry," I whispered to Ambrose alone, hoping this would get his attention, distract him.

It worked. "We'll talk about all of this later. We should get some food," he nodded to me.

"Yeah," Miss Cha Cha agreed, getting up from her chair and grabbing her yellow purse from the table.

As we piled into the car, all I could think about was how weird these last two days as a whole had been, and how glad I was to be going out to eat with my two favorite people. Jewish Christmas or not.