Chapter 52
Christmas Eve at my grandparents’ house is the busiest day during the holidays. It’s a semi-traditional festive affair as we typically prepare for the Noche Buena feast.
The lavish spread of traditional Filipino dishes like pancit (Filipino noodles), lumpia (spring rolls) embutido (meatloaf) is already being set up by my aunts in the living room whilst my uncles prepare the huge lechon (roasted pig) and hamon (cured ham) in the wood-fired oven in the backyard.
The house is filled with Christmas music on different floors of the chalet and lively chatter resounding in every room. The medley of voices belonging to my cousins singing karaoke in the living room is the loudest as I make myself useful in the kitchen.
Since I’m not the best at making Filipino desserts, I’ve opted to bake Christmas-themed cupcakes and cookies instead. I’m humming along to a song playing in the background when I feel a presence sneak up behind me.
“Need help?”
I turn around to find August, wearing another one of the jumpers I knitted. He’s also sporting a festive deer headband and I laugh at the bells dangling from the antlers.
“And which reindeer are you supposed to be?”
“Cupid, apparently.” August answers, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Besoin d’aide?”
“Please,” I nod, pursing my lips towards the cupboard. “Can you get the sprinkles and the decorations for the cupcakes? I need to make the icing.”
August strolls over and opens the cupboard as I begin gathering the ingredients for the icing on the counter.
“You do that a lot.” He looks at me, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.
“Do what?”
“Point with your lips.”
His eyes trail down to my mouth and a rush of warmth floods my cheeks at the attention.
“Oh,” I clear my throat. “It’s a Filipino thing.”
“Ah,” He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “And here I thought it was your subtle way of asking for kisses from me.”
His flirty remark catches me off guard, causing me to nearly drop the tub of butter and mason jar of icing sugar. August chuckles affectionately as I curse out loud.
“Ate Lili said a bad word!” Dayna yells out, popping up from behind the kitchen island.
“Dayna!” I exclaim, whirling around to find her giggling. “What are you doing under there?”
“Hiding,” She says matter-of-factly.
“From who?”
“Kuya Auggie,” She answers. “We’re playing hide and seek.”
“Of course,” I mumble knowingly.
Hearing the timer, I quickly make my way to the oven to remove the cupcakes from the oven. A hiss escapes my lips as the kitchen towel slips and the hot tray grazes my fingers.
“Loveheart, be careful.” August lectures me gently. “There are oven gloves for a reason.”
He turns on the tap and gently takes my hand, pressing a kiss to it before running it under the cold water. He stands with me for a moment before swiftly grabbing a pair of kitchen mitts, removing the tray of cupcakes from the oven and setting it on the cooling rack atop the island counter.
“Et voila.”
Next to the island, Dayna is giggling up at us.
“You know what, go back to the living room,” I shake my head but keep my hand under the water nonetheless. “You’re no help.”
“I’m helping,” August’s chuckle sounds louder this time as he traps me between him and the sink. “Any way you need me to, mon c?ur.”
My brain short-circuits, my heart stuttering at the close proximity
“Dayna, please take Kuya Auggie back to the living room.” I turn towards Dayna who’s watching us with a grin. “He’s causing a disturbance in the kitchen.”
“Okay!” Dayna giggles, bouncing over to August and tugging on his leg.
August places a hand over his heart. “You wound me with your acts of betrayal, Mahalia Hartt.”
“You’re so dramatic,” I laugh before pretending to scowl at him. “Now go. Entertain my family, since you seem to be very good at that.”
I send him playful daggers and he beams, a smile so dazzling it leaves me a little lightheaded.
“Alright,” He sighs sportively. “But no frowning.”
He moves towards me, swooping down to press a kiss between my furrowed brows. I blink in surprise and his eyes sweep across mine, clearing his throat as he pulls away.
“Kuya Auggie, let’s go.” Dayna tugs on his hand, trying to pull him away.
“Go.” I nudge him, smiling.
“Don’t drop the cupcakes, cupcake.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes.
Resuming my task of making the icing, I plug the mixer into the wall and begin measuring the softened butter into a mixing bowl. Sensing a presence looming in the kitchen, I look up to find my Uncle Jeremiah standing by the archway with hard-set eyes.
“Make sure to clean up your mess after you’re done in here,” He comments. “Don’t give your Lola grief by not tidying up after yourself.”
I nod robotically. “Of course.”
A tense silence falls in the room, my fingers twitching as I begin adding the powdered sugar to the butter, my body operating somewhat in auto-pilot mode as I continue my tasks in the kitchen.
“Is that going to be a thing?” My uncle’s voice is harsh as he speaks.
It didn’t differ from four years ago, his tone still abrupt and demanding. I turn to him confused, then realise he’s talking about August.
“It’s recent,” I reply.
“So it’s not serious?”
From across the room, I can see the displeased look on his face.
“It is serious.”
My voice is steady as I reply. To some extent, it is the truth because I’m serious about it. It might be different for August but to me, my relationship with him is as genuine as my dedication to it.
“Does he know that?”
I face my uncle directly.
“He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”
A silence follows as the machine stops whirring.
My body is back on autopilot mode as I grab a spatula and begin to scoop the icing inside the piping bag. Slowly, I detach myself from my surroundings. My thoughts are a whirlpool in my head, sending it spiralling as it filters through memories I’ve repressed from years ago.
I squeeze and release my fist, hoping to alleviate the eerie sensation of glass slicing across my palm.
“Are you even listening to me?”
My uncle is standing next to me now, yanking firmly on my arm as his voice cuts through my thoughts.
“I’m talking to you.” He punctuates each word with a forceful jerk.
I gasp, panicked. “Stop.”
The aluminium mixing bowl falls with a loud clamour as I drop it, the metal spatula clanging across the kitchen counter. The piping bag I’m holding slips from my hand and it splatters on the floor, staining the hardwood with red icing.
Shakily, I reach out for the kitchen counter but my uncle harshly grabs my wrist and a sharp pain shoots up my elbow.
“Don’t—” I draw in a sharp breath.
It’s not uncommon for my uncle to get aggressive. But the strike is still unexpected. I attempt to tug my hand away, the sting bolting across my wrist and spreading across my fingers.
“I c-can’t feel my hand,” I stutter, winded.
Tears begin to blur my vision as I try to flex my hand free.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” He scoffs.
As if to prove a point, he tightens his grip on my wrist and twists. The sound of my bones cracking under his grasp makes my stomach lurch and I’m instantly reminded of Christmas from four years ago.
“Uncle Jeremiah!”
My voice feels oddly distant and distorted as I shout.
The experience is almost out-of-body as I watch him raise his other hand and I close my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the impact but it never comes.
Instead, clashes and crashes.
Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to register the wild commotion unfolding before me.
Long limbs, fists flying and a flash of platinum locks.
“August!” I gasp.
The ringing in my ears is overwhelming, my heart hammering against my chest at the sight of August being aggressively pulled back by my cousins.
“Don’t ever fucking touch her again.” His voice is seething, grey eyes murderous.
“You little shit,” My uncle spits, sharply turning in my direction.
August immediately breaks away from my cousins, shifting towards me within seconds as Gabe and Russ scramble to hold him back again. I stand, unmoving, as August tugs me behind him protectively.
“Pack your bags,” My uncle fumes. “Neither of you are welcome here.”
Tension escalates as he edges near me again and I flinch, August instantly squaring up. Another round of chaos erupts at August’s subtle movements, the rest of my uncles shoving past to drag Uncle Jeremiah out of the kitchen whilst my aunts cry out in distress. There’s more scuttling in the kitchen before everyone freezes at the sound of my grandma’s booming voice.
“Enough!” Her voice echoes, silencing every person in the room. “Everyone in the living room.”
In the silence of the kitchen, everyone scurries out.
“Mahalia, August.” My grandpa addresses us, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “My study. Now.”
In the corridor, a dozen pairs of eyes trail after us as we shuffle out of the kitchen and into my grandpa’s study. Side by side, August and I stand in front of his desk, like school children being scolded by their teacher.
“I don’t like violence, young man.” My grandpa begins, hazel eyes staring intently at both of us.
There’s a lurching in my stomach, the ache I feel in my wrist shooting up my body and straight to my chest.
Immediately, I speak. “Papa, he’s not—”
He raises a hand to quiet me, his expression turning dour, and I know better than to defy my grandpa when he’s being as serious as he is now.
“I see it as a last resort,” He says ominously. “I find it concerning you’ve resulted in that kind of behaviour, especially in my own home.”
“Pa, it’s my fault.” I plead. “August didn’t mean—”
“Mahalia.” My grandpa interrupts me with a stern voice.
He looks at me sharply and I wither under his gaze. In the time I’ve been in my grandparents’ care, neither of them have ever raised their voice at me. I’ve always been a well-behaved child in their presence since I never had a reason to act out. So to be on the receiving end of my grandpa’s reprimand is a little disheartening.
“I apologise for the aggression on my end, sir.” August begins to speak. “I can say with absolute certainty that I have never and will never lay a hand on Mahalia in that way. I don’t ever wish to disrespect you in your home, please know that. But I care about your granddaughter very much and I won’t ever stand for her being mistreated in any way, regardless of place or person.”
A tense silence follows as August continues.
“I’ve fought for her then and I’ll fight for her now,” August says, voice steady. “Every battle, every single time.”
My head turns towards August at his admission. His gaze is unwavering, stoic yet determined, as he meets my grandpa’s eyes.
I see a flicker of recognition in my grandpa’s face as he peers over August.
“Mahalia,” He calls my name.
I turn to my grandpa. His facial expression doesn’t betray his emotions, hazel eyes unreadable as he continues to assess August. There’s barely a hint of the usual warmth in his eyes, just a steeliness that’s almost unrecognisable to me.
“Yes, Pa.” I swallow.
“See to your Mama about your wrist,” He orders. “I need to speak with August alone.”
“Papa,” My eyes well up at the dismissive tone in his voice.
I take a step forward to reason with him but August gently reaches for my hand.
“Mon c?ur,” He whispers softly, tugging me to him.
I turn towards August looking at me with reassuring grey eyes.
“No catastrophising,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to my forehead before placing quick, gentle kisses on both my palms. “Get your hand looked at, okay? I’ll be out soon.”
I nod, glancing over at my grandpa who watching us in quiet assessment. He must have noticed how hard I’m trying to hold my tears in as his hazel eyes soften.
“It won’t be long, Lili.”
My childhood bedroom suddenly feels far too small and I find myself on the floor by the foot of my bed as I wait for August. Pressing my legs to my chest, I lean my forehead against my knees as I rock back and forth. The stinging sensation of my wrist doesn’t quite compare to the painful throbbing between my ribs.
I feel it.
All the blanket stitches I’ve spent looping through the fraying seams of my heart, being picked apart.
The sound of my door opening prompts me to lift my head and I watch as August steps into my room.
I burst into tears almost instantly.
August doesn’t say anything as he sits on the floor beside me and I bury my face into my hands, struggling to suppress the emotions that keep resurfacing.
“Mahalia.”
I can sense his hesitation, thick and heavy and I bite my lip to contain the strangled sobs crawling up my throat.
August pauses before he sighs.
“Come here.”
The warmth of his body surrounds me as he gathers me in his arms and another wave of wrangled cries takes over my body.
“Oh, mon c?ur.”
Tucking my head under his chin, he positions me in between his legs and pulls me to his chest. I shut my eyes tightly to prevent the hot gush of tears from falling but I feel the wet splotches on his neck nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry, August.”
I clutch at my chest, finding it more and more difficult to breathe, my ribcage feeling like needles puncturing through my lungs.
“What are you apologising for, hmm?” He asks gently, dropping a long and lingering kiss on my forehead.
The act of intimacy causes me to unravel and my body shakes uncontrollably, violent tremors with each wave of sobs pulling me under.
I ball my hands into fists in an attempt to ground myself, distinctly feeling my nails digging into my palms but I find myself numb to the pain.
“Tinker-Talent, none of that now.” He says softly.
August’s fingers smooth over my knuckles as he tries to pry my hands open.
“Don’t do further damage to your hands.”
I shake my head, attempting to blink away the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Open up, loveheart.” His voice is gentle as he brings my hands to his lips. “You need to look after these. Hands of the greats, remember?”
He kisses my palms, eyes molten silver as they glide over my face.
“Papa’s disappointed in me, isn’t he?” I sob uncontrollably.
“Quite the opposite.” August wipes away the tears on my face with his thumbs. “He’s so proud of you, he told me so himself.”
I whimper, voice strained as I blink up at August. “Are we—is he k-kicking us out?”
My breaths are heavy and uneven as I tearfully take in breathless gulps of air.
“Of course not,” He shakes his head. “He just wanted to make sure that you and I were okay.”
“A-and are we?” I ask, tearful. “Are we okay?”
“We’re more than okay, loveheart.”
The nickname tucks itself into my heart, slowly loosening the knots around my chest.
August’s presence is a calming tide that washes over me, my cries eventually subsiding into small sniffles. Feeling my eyes droop, I curl into him reflexively, seeking comfort as he gently rubs soothing circles on my arms.
“Are you sleepy?” He asks me, voice gentle.
Sluggishly, I nod. “A little.”
I tug absentmindedly on the heart-shaped patches of the jumper August is wearing, exhaustion enveloping me.
“Alright, up we get.”
Sliding an arm under my knees, August picks me up bridal style and gently sets me down on the bed.
“Shuffle,” He requests, tapping lightly on my waist.
Drowsily, I shift over the duvet covers to make room for him. Sidling over to me, August is delicate in his movements as he shifts to lie on his back and pulls me snugly into his arms.
“August?” I mumble tiredly.
“Mhm?” His voice is a soothing murmur as he draws me closer to him, softly rubbing my back.
Laying my palm on top of his chest, I incline my head and press my lips lightly against his jaw.
“Thank you.”
He reaches for my bandaged hand carefully, dropping a kiss on my wrist before adding one to my temple.
“Always, loveheart.”