27
I groan. The knot in my shoulders feels denser than a fruitcake, and this morning’s bed is as cold as a lumpy snowbank. Awesome. What guy am I paired up with now? Frosty the Snowman?
I keep my eyes shut a moment longer, which is my very sophisticated tactic to delay whatever the time loop demons have conjured up for me this round.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ve reset my time loop, and no matter where I am or who I’m with, I’m going to make my own decisions.
I just hope that wherever I am, I don’t have to buy an expensive plane ticket home.
Twisting sideways, I’m surprised to hit cushions. I must be sleeping on a couch or a futon. Great.
With a gulp of air to brace myself, I open my eyes, only to be greeted by a pair of determined kittens staring at me from a poster on the wall.
I scan my surroundings in disbelief. I’m in Mom’s she-shed. Through the un-curtained window, the sky outside looks golden, like it’s late afternoon.
And then I notice the biggest difference: It’s quiet. George Michael isn’t singing from my phone.
My body tingles. Does this mean—? I can’t even think the words.
My hands snake to the side of the futon to find my phone. I’m greeted with the familiar photo of me with my nieces and nephews, and relief and joy flood me.
And the year!
The year is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s Christmas Eve on my original timeline. Thank you, Universe!
I found the key to breaking the loops. And it wasn’t discovering my true love for a man. It was discovering my true love for myself.
I throw my head back with relief. I am going to start choosing myself. Listening to my own voice and answering to no one, no matter the circumstances.
Madam Lunas was right. Next Christmas I will be with the person I love.
Me!
I wiggle and do a happy dance on the futon. To think, just yesterday (in my original timeline) I was worried about not bringing someone home for the holidays. So much so that for a hot minute, I thought about bringing a stripper to Noche Buena dinner.
But now, I know myself and what I want. I know how I want to live my life and face my family.
There is just one thing. What I learned in these loops is that there is only one person I’d like to bring home. If he agrees. My chest tightens as I remember racing to Robbie’s house in my last time loop and the heartache of finding out he was engaged to someone else.
But it’s not too late in this timeline, right? I can find Robbie now and tell him how I feel. Robbie and Audrey aren’t even dating yet. They just reunited last night for the tavern gig.
I wince. Of course, what if I am already too late? Maybe Robbie realized last night that Audrey is the one for him. Like the butterfly effect has already started and whatever I do to interfere won’t make a difference. My head hurts just thinking about it.
I make a face at the kittens on the wall. But I can’t control that. I just have to tell him how I feel. For now, I’m happy being home in my original timeline. And I’m going to prioritize myself—and the universe agrees with me.
I slip on my boots and walk from the shed to the house. I take a big breath before I turn the doorknob and enter the kitchen.
I’m greeted by the familiar Silva family chaos. My chest fills with joy seeing the commotion.
It’s around 4 p.m., so my mom is hard at work on Noche Buena, ordering my sister and cousin around the kitchen.
I can hear The Grinch on TV in the living room.
And there’s a breadcrumb trail of Legos, dolls, and blocks leading to the open basement door, through which the telltale sound of Mario Kart emerges.
I stand there, a big smile on my face, taking it all in.
“How are you feeling?” Juliet is the first to notice me, concern all over her face. She’s got an apron tied tight around her waist and I can see the tiniest bump of her pregnant belly through it.
My hand goes straight to my head to check as I recall the last events of my original timeline Christmas Eve. I broke the Butt Crack Santa cookie jar and then raced outside and slipped on the ice.
The broken cookie jar is like a shard in my heart, but seeing my bustling family happy and enjoying their holiday overpowers some of that sadness.
“Feeling much better now,” I say. “I think Butt Crack Santa had more physical damage than me.”
Wit Wit’s face fills with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were so upset earlier.”
I frown. Not just upset. Passed out. Do they not know what happened?
“You ran out of the house and disappeared back in the shed,” Wit Wit says.
My eyes widen. If that’s true, then my blacking out from the ice didn’t happen like I recall.
My sister continues. “We figured you needed some alone time.” She puts a hand on my forehead to check my temperature and helps me into a chair as Libby brings me a glass of eggnog.
I notice the rest of the family has gathered around the kitchen island to check on me.
My face reddens and I straighten my shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
I look at each one of them, seeing the looks of worry in their faces.
My chest grows heavy with guilt at being the cause of that worry.
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I shouted at all of you this morning, and then scared you when I stormed off.
I was just—” I look at my mom. “I was just really frustrated by everyone constantly shaming me about being single. And then when I didn’t hit it off with Leo”—my eyes tear up—“I felt like such a disappointment.”
My mom wrings her hands, and I see confused glances from the others. My body hums with energy, everything inside me ready to burst out and declare how I’ve finally learned to prioritize myself. I take a deep breath and go for it. “I realize I’ve been dating to please everyone but myself.”
I gesture at Lisa and my siblings’ spouses. “I thought finding someone special and bringing him home would please all of you. Or at least make me fit in better.”
Shocked faces blink back at me, but I keep going. “And I thought in order for the guys I was dating to stay with me, I had to sacrifice for them. Like how Mom and Dad sacrificed for each other.”
I turn to where the Butt Crack Santa jar used to sit. “But in all those timelines—” I wince. “I mean, all the guys I’ve dated, none of them sacrificed for me. None of them seemed truly invested in my happiness. None of them really loved me, for me.”
Except for one. I push thoughts of Robbie aside.
Instead, I think back to all the exes I’ve been with over the last few timelines, and all the different versions of myself I’ve been with them: roadie, fitness girlie, socialite, social media manager. In none of those scenarios was I truly myself.
I turn to my cousin, who’s smiling encouragingly at me. Who’s told me, and has been telling me, how amazing I am. She already knew what Madam Lunas wanted me to learn: to love myself—flaws and all.
“I just want you to know, I’m happy being me. I am going to be a speech therapist. My life is full with you as my family.” I break into a smile as I recall how happy I was singing with Robbie and caroling. “And I am going to sing again. I finally feel like I’ve found my voice.”
My mom hugs me, tears in her eyes. “We just want you to be happy, anak,” she says. “I was so happy with your father,” she says wistfully. “And I am so sorry I put pressure on you to have what we had.”
I blink back tears, missing my dad and feeling him in this room with us. He and Mom had an amazing history together. They loved each other, they sacrificed for each other, and they respected their differences. It was obvious he was in love with her—and not some fake version of her.
“Thank you, Mom and everyone. I know you want me to be happy, but you know what?” I announce. “I don’t need to be with anyone to be happy, I can just be myself. And that should be enough for you, because it’s enough for me.”
My mom wipes a tear from her eyes. “You are an amazing woman, anak. You will always have my love and support—and this family’s.
You will always belong here.” She squeezes my hand and my chest swells.
All this time I was dating guys to feel like I belong somewhere, when the answer is that I never needed them to feel that way.
I already belong somewhere. And I love it.
As my family surrounds me, each of their hugs loosens the knot in my chest. It’s amazing knowing that everyone has my back. And no one thinks less of me.
“I’m glad you haven’t settled for any of your exes,” Manny confides. “And don’t let them rope you into that dentist guy, either. He hates sugar.”
I laugh and playfully punch my brother on the arm. He pretends I hurt him. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I say. “He’s not the one for me.”
“Good,” he says, then claps his hands. “Okay everyone. Enough with this gross ‘share my feelings with my kid sister’ stuff. I think it’s Die Hard time.”
I frown. “Shut up, Manny. Male vulnerability is actually really hot.”
He grins and I know he completely agrees.
“You convinced me. And as an apology, I’ll let you pick the movie tonight.”
I purse my lips. Since we’re all being authentic right now, I have another suggestion. I clear my throat. “How about karaoke after our Noche Buena dinner?”
The Silva family goes silent.
Juliet exclaims, “Really, Marygrace? I thought you’d never ask!”
I grin. “Yeah. I think it would be fun.”
Mom touches her heart. “What a blessing.”
“A Christmas miracle,” Wit Wit teases.
I tell everyone I’ll be with them in a little bit, though. I crick my aching neck. A hot shower and Mom’s Winter Candy Apple body wash, plus fresh pajamas, are the other keys to my happiness right now.
My chest feels lighter as I take each step upstairs to our guest bathroom with new affirmations: I know what I want.
I’m not chasing anyone’s approval. I’m happy just to be me.
And that’s how I made it out of the cycles.
Take that, Madam Lunas. The love of my life…
it’s me. It’s my own confidence and belonging in my own skin.
I will determine my future, and I won’t be afraid to speak up with my own voice.
I smile at the family photos at the top of the staircase. There’s fifteen-year-old me performing at a school concert, before I got the strange idea that I wasn’t good enough without someone else to lift me up.
Nope, that queen is singing her heart out and she doesn’t care what others think. Hey, Universe, I’m whole on my own, and that realization might be the best Christmas gift ever.
As I enter the bathroom, I laugh at the sight of the reindeer onesie folded up and ready for me near the sink. I turn on the shower and belt out “This Christmas,” the song I wrote with Robbie, and possibly for him.
It didn’t work out between us, but at least now I know all the lyrics.
As I descend the stairs freshly showered and all reindeered up, I smell the delicious tangy, garlicky, vinegary, fried dishes for Noche Buena dinner.
My mouth waters thinking about Tita Pinky’s kaldereta with moist, tender beef in a tomato-based sauce, or kare-kare oxtail in peanut sauce, and of course the piles and piles of fried lumpia egg rolls.
My dad’s favorite were the crispy lechon pork and my mom’s palabok egg noodles.
But as I round the corner, I’m shocked to find the dining room empty.
Bruce Willis is on the screen crawling through an air duct with a lighter. But no one is watching. Where is everyone?
Nerves rising in my gut, I pad into the kitchen, both relieved and surprised to find my family gathered around the island, suspiciously quiet.
“She’s here!” Libby pops up when she spots me. Every head swivels to me. My stomach flips seeing expectant looks on their faces. What are they planning? I was only gone for twenty minutes showering, what could possibly have happened in that time?
“What are you wearing?” Wit Wit exclaims, gawking at my pj’s.
Manny and my nephew Riley crack up.
“What?” I demand.
My mom shushes everyone and directs them to move. She, my sister, and the rest of my family shuffle sideways. I freeze when I see what, or rather who, they were hiding.
It’s Robbie, holding a bouquet of flowers.