In a Holidaze

“This is what we do together; we become our old-person characters Mandrew and Maisie. We make our voices shaky and high-pitched—to play, to confide, to tease—but I’m too freaked out to play along. ‘Nothing.’ I shrug. ‘Didn’t sleep well.’ The lie feels oily on my tongue.”

Though Mae insists at this stage that Andrew could never love her, this anecdote foregrounds their deep history and connection. Clearly, they find both humor and vulnerability in their interactions together, and this dynamic hints that they are far more suited as partners than Mae realizes at this point. Mae’s description of her lie as “oily” also indicates that her relationship with Andrew is usually authentic and vulnerable, adding more proof that intimacy between them already exists.

“Change is never good. Change is Dad switching medical practices when I was five and never being home again during daylight. Change is my best friend moving away in eighth grade. Change is a terribly advised pixie cut sophomore year. Change is relocating to LA, realizing I couldn’t afford it, and having to move back home. Change is kissing one of my oldest friends when I was drunk.”

The authors’ use of repetition here indicates the depth of Mae’s misconceptions about the nature of chance, and as she lists a barrage of negative associations, the word “change” itself becomes a harbinger of her internal anxiety. Evolution, in her reckoning, only worsens one’s circumstances, and she cites dubious “proof” from her early in childhood experiences and her struggles with embracing full adulthood. This negative thinking further explains her intense attachment to the cabin, which clearly represents permanence in her mind. Mae sees her kiss with Theo as the final piece of evidence that stability is what she needs the most, and in this context, the time loop becomes a dare from the universe that forces her to reconsider her assumptions.

“My brain can’t seem to process what’s going on. Have I lost a year somehow? Honestly, what are the odds that I’m actually dead? My version of heaven would be at the cabin, so how would I know? If I was in a coma, would I feel the frigid winter air on my bare face?”

The continuous use of questions in this passage indicates Mae’s frantic state of mind and establishes the extent of her disorientation and confusion. She is even willing to ponder the nature of the afterlife, a detail that indicates her view of the cabin as a personal version of paradise. The addition of physical detail foreshadows that what Mae is experiencing is both literal and supernatural, as her body is clearly present in her new, disorienting reality.

“I take a deep, calming breath. ‘For the record, you were much more helpful last time.’ He considers this. ‘Was I also high?’ ‘Actually, yes.’ He holds his hands palms-up as if to say There you go. ‘Start there, then tell me everything.’”

The dialogue in this scene indicates that Mae is now able to joke about her predicament. Benny’s humorous response and gesture indicate that the warmth between them is real no matter what timeline Mae occupies, and thus, it is clear that his role in the novel is to be an emotional anchor amid the drastic changes that Mae undergoes. The exchange also establishes that Mae’s unusual experiences are emotionally weighty but not dire, and Benny’s quip adds an element of humor to the central mystery of the plot.

“The only thing that calmed me down once we arrived was my time with Andrew on the porch again. Maybe because I looked even paler and more vulnerable, he seemed to put more effort into his ridiculous introductions.”

In this passage, Mae immediately associates Andrew with emotional safety, not merely because she loves him but also because he authentically meets her needs. Mae assumes that her vulnerability draws him in, and she still refuses to consider that their connection is and has always been authentic. The indication that Andrew works hard to lighten her emotional burdens also suggests that he will openly reciprocate Mae’s feelings of affection.

“‘Did you just tell me I have a moisture problem?’ He can’t stop laughing. 

‘No—yes.’ 

‘Are you broken, Andrew Polley Hollis?’ 

He doubles over. ‘I promise I’ve never said that to a woman before.’”

The innuendo-laden dialogue in this scene demonstrates that Mae and Andrew are already very comfortable with each other, and this new level of banter only serves to accelerate the romantic tension between them. As Mae reduces Andrew to paroxysms of laughter, it is clear that their ability to bring one another joy is mutual. The banter also hints that Mae’s real purpose in the time loop is to become closer to Andrew, as this moment of ease between them only becomes possible once she starts to embrace her situation.

“‘Don’t you get it? This is special! What about tradition? We won’t be able to keep doing this together if we don’t respect what we’ve all built!’ Andrew puts a gentling hand on my arm. ‘Mae.’”

As Mae expresses her dismay over the destruction of the snow sculptures amid the spontaneous snowball fight, her words are panicked and angry, and the resulting mood demonstrates the depths of her insecurities and her fear of change. Mae alludes to the possible sale of the cabin, even as her interlocutors are not yet aware of the issue, and she clearly sees this future event as a looming disaster that threatens her family’s ties to one another. Andrew attempts to ground and comfort her, but her persistent inability to see him as her anchor triggers the time loop’s next reset.

“The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’ filters out from his headphones; the sound is muffled by the press of our bodies, but the melody is clear enough to push an ache of nostalgia between my ribs. I’ve heard Andrew sing this song a hundred times. Music is entwined with his DNA, it is the bedrock of his gentle happiness, and right now this hug feels like a lullaby, like a calming melody hummed at bedtime.”

This scene adds more depth to Andrew’s character as Mae considers him through his love of music, seeing it as an inextricable part of their history together. His song choice, which is a romantic ballad, hints that he is Mae’s idea of perfection. This idea is underlined by her sense of the song as a lullaby: a source of ease and comfort. Mae’s love of Andrew is both intense and stabilizing, anchoring her to her deepest feelings and her personal past.

“Within only a handful of seconds, I lose track of who’s hit me, who’s hit Andrew, when Thea gets crushed, and what’s even happening amid the flurry of flying snow. All I know is that the sound of my loved ones’ laughter bouncing off the hillside is the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

The disordered syntax of Mae’s thoughts in this passage mirrors the good-natured chaos of the snowball fight’s second iteration—the version that she chooses to accept and enable. Her joyous reaction contrasts sharply with her earlier dismay at this spontaneous break from tradition, and for the first time, she is fully able to be present with her found family and to appreciate their deviation from routine. This development suggests that she is coming to embrace the character growth that the time loop offers her.

“Even though the cabin is my favorite place on earth, I’m starting to think that it wouldn’t be so terrible to mix things up. Maybe we should do things because we love them, not because we’ve always done them that way.”

In this passage, Mae realizes the merits and advantages of embracing change rather than preserving stale traditions, and it is clear that the time loop and its various iterations have allowed her to abandon the rigidity of her former stance and consider new possibilities. Far from seeking to uphold tradition for tradition’s sake, she now openly admits that tradition can be stifling in the wrong circumstances. This scene therefore indicates new progress in reconciling The Tension Between Childhood Nostalgia and Adult Responsibility.

“I turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at me, and with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, he lifts his finger to his lips and whispers, ‘No talking. I just want to be under the tree with you.’”

This moment indicates that while Andrew has technically rejected Mae’s confession of love, their easy sense of intimacy remains essentially unchanged. He is already in tune with her and can find humor and comfort in her presence despite the currently undefined nature of their relationship. His words suggest that her presence is all he needs to be happy, offering confirmation that his hesitation is not due to a lack of connection to her.

“Andrew. Kissed me. On the mouth. I shrug with feigned indifference, keeping my voice low. ‘It was fine.’ 

‘I promise you,’ he whispers, ‘my goal for our first kiss was not “fine.”’”

Mae’s truncated inner monologue happens in short bursts, and by conveying the fact of Andrew’s kiss in a choppy, ungrammatical fashion, the authors deliver a sense of her internal shock and elation. As a result, the scene demonstrates that however brief it was, Andrew’s kiss has overcome her usual coherence, and she is forced to feign a calm that she does not feel. However, this approach backfires, given that Andrew’s words indicate the level of his mingled passion and frustration upon assuming that their kiss was brief and underwhelming.

“I moan and he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue across mine. That’s it. I get it. I will no longer snort derisively at descriptions of women in novels falling to pieces with barely a touch. I can’t imagine what kinds of noises I’d make if I ever managed to get this man naked.”

Mae’s reflections in this scene act as a form of metacommentary on the romance genre, which tends to attach deep emotional meaning to a couple’s first kiss. Thus, through Mae, the authors insist that such intense physical and emotional intensity can be real, not just a convention of the genre. As Mae’s anxiety about the future gives way to anticipation of passion, the scene further demonstrates that Andrew is a refuge from her fears.

“When we finally pull our clothes back on and he walks me across the moonlit expanse of snow, there are two things I want with equal intensity: I want to turn around and go back to being naked in the sleeping bag, and I want him to follow me into the kitchen, sit down at the table, and talk to me for hours.”

Mae’s realization indicates that she is now experiencing the inevitable emotional reckoning that comes with the transition from friendship to romance. By contrasting two profoundly intimate images—physical vulnerability and a deeper romantic affinity—the authors indicate just how closely bonded the new couple has already become. Mae’s eagerness for both kinds of intimacy suggests that her romance with Andrew is not based on fleeting physical chemistry but on true emotional compatibility.

“‘Theo is used to everyone wanting him. I don’t. He’s the kind of guy who wants what he can’t have.’ I watch Miles absorb this information, and then he seems to understand, nodding slowly. ‘Okay. I just—I don’t want him to be upset.’ Kissing my brother’s temple, I tell him, ‘You’re a good boy.’”

Mae’s conversation with her brother establishes that the time loop has brought greater clarity and authenticity to all of Mae’s relationships, not merely her bond with Andrew. In this scene, she is honest with Miles about her lack of interest in Theo and does not hesitate to paint him in a negative light. At the same time, she is gentle with Miles’s intrusion onto her life, trusting his good intentions while asserting her own boundaries.

“‘I don’t know how to say this so I guess I’ll just come out with it: I feel like you led me on.’ 

What the hell? My heart has spent a lot of time racing lately, but not like this. Not out of anger and indignation.”

This exchange highlights Theo’s anger and innate sense of entitlement, while Mae’s resulting fury indicates that she resents his intrusion and rejects his implication that she somehow owes him an apology for the assumptions that he independently chose to make. This scene indicates that the conflicts from the prior timeline—the errant kiss and the reasons behind it—are still significant to them both. The exchange also proves that Mae’s avoidance strategy has failed, and it is clear that her only hope of a positive resolution is to pursue authenticity with both Theo and Andrew in the novel’s final act.

“‘Punch me!’ He takes a step behind Benny, looking to our dad for help, and then I realize that Ricky has picked up Kennedy, that Lisa is holding Zachary, and that everyone—even Andrew—is looking at me like they’re afraid of me. I turn and run away down the street. I don’t know where I’m going. I’m praying with everything I have that all of this ends and I wake up in seat 19B.”

Mae’s outrageous demand of Miles illustrates the depths of her emotional strain and highlights the differences between her perception of events and those of her family. As she realizes that everyone around her is frightened of her reaction, she flees in a literal attempt to escape confrontation and avoid explaining herself. Her wish for a supernatural reset of the timeline also shows that she has come to see the time loop as a safety net that will shield her from the consequences of her poor decisions. However, its failure to reset in this moment demonstrates that avoiding consequences is not the true purpose of her journey.

“‘It’s almost Christmas, and this nice little restaurant has kept you safe from cars and awnings and all other dangerous flying objects.’ He shrugs. ‘You ever hear of Spotify?’ ‘Uh, yeah?’ He grins. ‘I got in early.’ ‘How early?’ ‘Early.’”

Benny’s words here are a gentle reassurance to Mae that she will always be able to find emotional shelter with him, just as the restaurant has offered her a safe haven to reorder her thoughts. At the same time, their exchange about Spotify indicates the authors’ attention to the broader events of the plot, as Benny’s hidden wealth will eventually become a key detail of the resolution. Thus, over the course of the novel, his chief function is to offer both emotional and financial support in order to preserve the family’s continuity and Christmas traditions. Benny thus emerges as a metaphorical version of Santa Claus, radiating benevolence and prosperity.

“‘I’m the result of that? I’m the prize at the end of the game?’ ‘I mean,’ I start, stumbling, ‘Yes—I mean no, but—’ ‘Why not just tell me how you felt? That seems, I don’t know, a million times easier?’”

Andrew’s words here are a kind of cry of disbelief, making it clear that he feels objectified rather than cherished by Mae’s admission that she believes that fate has brought them together. Mae is overwhelmed to the extent of being incoherent, unable to reassure him. His final question underlines that he had hoped she could choose him freely and communicate honestly and that he sees her reliance on escape, or fate, as a form of weakness and a betrayal of who he knows her to be. Only by embracing her own agency and abandoning the “safety net” of fate will Mae be able to breach the gulf that forms between them in this moment.

“He stares at me in tender wonder. ‘Of course we are, honey. That was thirty-plus years ago. When the friendship is worth it, people work through things. Like with your parents. We’ve survived that because of how much we truly value each other’s friendships.’”

Ricky’s “tender” admission to Mae suggests that the protagonist’s chosen family bonds are intact despite her conflict with Andrew. He tells her that conflict can always be resolved: a mindset that contradicts the life lessons she learned from her parents’ divorce and from her own perceived failings. Significantly, he changes her ingrained mindset by reinterpreting her parents’ divorce, offering their lives and his own as proof that even fundamental disagreements can be healed on some level. In a moment when Mae is focused on inevitability and has no hope, Ricky reminds her that intimacy and honesty may be her way forward.

“I think we both know what’s coming, but when Mom comes into the living room with the ruined remnants of Andrew’s ugly Christmas sweater, for just a second I think I’ve been saved. He’ll believe me. But that’s the problem. I can see in his eyes that he does believe everything I told him, and it’s somehow worse.”

In this scene, Mae is once more dreading the sense of repetition derived from the time loop as she confronts Andrew’s shredded sweater: the last piece of evidence that her claims about fate and time travel are true. She wants to see this moment as “salvation,” as an easy rescue from their current conflict. While she is still hoping for supernatural solutions to her own problems, the moment also shows that she does not want Andrew to disappear from her life. However, Mae assumes that his belief in her confirms his pessimism that she has no agency of her own, deepening the emotional intensity of their final conflict.

“When I thought it didn’t matter and no one would remember, I finally started living authentically. I quit my job. I was honest about my feelings. I went after what I wanted without fear. My feet feel the floor; my back feels the pew.”

Mae finally comes to see the time loop as a form of freedom and realizes that her own internal doubts were holding her back from happiness. The repetition of the word “I” indicates that she now sees herself as the active agent in her own life, not as a victim of circumstance or fate. She feels newly grounded in her body and newly aware of her own capabilities.

“With my hope buoyant enough to lift the cabin off its foundation, wouldn’t it just be perfect if the universe pulled the chair out from under me one last time? But this time, I’m not going anywhere. ‘Your time-traveling girlfriend.’ Andrew’s smile lights up the inside of the closet. ‘Finally, Maisie. I thought you’d never ask.’”

In this scene, Mae portrays reciprocated love as a supernatural force in and of itself and imagines having the power to make the cabin float away. Her momentary fear gives way to self-assertion, indicating that she has truly overcome her inhibitive fears. This inner shift matches the assurance of her words as she decisively chooses a life with Andrew, giving him the confidence he needs to reciprocate.