Chapter 31
I keep telling Pa I’m fine when he follows me. “Superstar, let’s talk,” he tells me again.
“Pa, I’m fine. Just wanted to get some air.” I plaster a smile on my face to prove the point.
“Why don’t we go somewhere?” he says. “Take Martha to see some Christmas lights.”
“Don’t think Martha can really see, Pa.”
I was hoping a joke about his car’s eyesight would change the subject, but Pa still doesn’t let up.
“Annika,” he says, and it sounds weird to hear him use my full name. “Come on, be serious. Let’s talk.”
And hearing those words come out of Pa’s mouth makes the hairs on my arms stand, the blood coursing through my body boil, the banging in my head even louder. Because when was the last time anyone in my family ever took me seriously when I asked them to talk?!
“Why am I not allowed to joke?” I cry out. “Why can’t I laugh things off like you always do?”
He staggers back a bit and I’ve never seen this … crumpled look on his face. I wish he’d say one of his confusing proverbs, tell a corny joke, or even call me out for snapping at him. Seeing how hurt my dad looks makes me want to forget everything and sink into one of his hugs again.
Instead, he lets me be.
“I’ll let you get some air then.” He nods and gives me space. “You know where to find me.”
I watch as Pa drifts and goes back inside our unit.
My hands gather my hair into my fists. Ugh. What did I just do?!
The nagging truth that I hate myself for feeling? I’m angry at Pa. Why does he keep insisting on leaving? Why isn’t he trying harder?
And I don’t know why I’m even allowing myself to feel this way. It’s completely dumb and selfish! I’ve wanted Pa back for so long and I’m wasting time being mad at him.
My hand throbs after I slam the elevator button. Maybe getting some air can help me get rid of all these annoying feelings too.
The elevator gap is already closing when I see Seph rush out of our unit and squeeze himself between the doors.
“What are you doing?” I ask when his body narrowly escapes getting crushed by the elevator doors.
“The elevator’s for all building residents, Ilagan.”
I groan. “Forcing an elevator open can break its safety mechanism.”
“Please. People force elevators open all the time,” he argues.
And like some twisted joke, the machine rumbles to a sudden stop.
Instead of showing the floor number, the screen on top flashes a red E for error.
I press the elevator’s emergency call button, but the line just keeps ringing and ringing.
And no matter how high we hold our phones, both of us get zero signal.
“Just how I wanted to spend Christmas.” My back slides down the elevator wall and I bury my face in my arms. Great job, Nika. You get another Christmas with Pa and you mess it up so much that you get stuck in an elevator.
Soon, I feel Seph move and take a seat beside me.
“Wanna talk about what happened?”
“Nope,” I answer, my voice muffled and my head still buried.
“It might make you feel better if you talk about it.”
Not answering him this time. From this point forward, I’m making a vow against talking, and everyone around me should respect my wishes.
“Do you wanna think of more nicknames for Dr. Derrick?”
That’s when I look up at him. “What?”
“How about … One Derrick-tion?”
I scoff under my breath. “Didn’t know he had plans of joining a boy band.”
“Hey,” Seph protests. “Derrick’s a hard name to work with.”
I’m about to resume sulking when an idea pops into my head. “Derrick-tor.”
“Derrick-tory.”
“Derrick-cula.”
“Derrick-tion.”
“You used the direction pun already,” I point out.
“Yeah, I ran out, Ilagan.”
His nose slightly scrunches when he hears me laugh. “Seems like the game made you feel better, though.”
I focus back on scowling. Don’t admit that, Nika. One boy shouldn’t be enough to distract me from my misery.
When he suggests we play something else, I say, “What, you want to play the ice game again?”
Heat creeps up my neck when I realize how that sounded. “Stop,” I warn Seph when he looks all smug.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“It was recency bias. Only thought of the game because the soiree just happened.”
“Again, didn’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t suggesting the game so we could hold—”
I catch myself before digging myself into an even bigger hole.
But he’s still annoyingly smiling. “So we could hold what, Ilagan?”
Scowling for real this time. “Wasn’t your whole mission about making me feel better?”
Seph finally drops it and mentions that we never got to play Never Have I Ever at the soiree. I only put up my palms so he doesn’t tease me about the ice game again.
He follows suit and raises his fingers. “Never have I ever … gone through watching my mom move on with someone else.”
I quickly drop my hands. “Nope.”
“Have you talked to Auntie Beth about it?” he asks. “I’m sure she’d understand where you’re coming from.”
My mouth twists. “Moseph, I really don’t like talking about this.”
“You know, it’s unhealthy to keep everything to yourself.”
“Excuse you. I embody vulnerability.”
He crosses his arms. “Yeah? Are you sure the vulnerability is in this body?”
I scowl when he looks so proud of his wordplay. “Fine, fine.” I hold up my hands again so we can move on from talking about my parents. “Never have I ever … not eaten from the siopao boxes Ma gives you.”
Seph pauses. “That’s all you’re giving me?” he asks, flabbergasted. “I ask for vulnerability, and you’re giving me siopaos?”
“It was a struggle for me to eat all those siopaos,” I point out. Ever since my Dr. Derrick boycott, it’s been harder to chew with my right molars.
He then nods toward my hands. “Still your turn.”
“I just went.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I shake my head, not budging. “I don’t see you confessing anything.”
Seph considers this. “Confess something, huh?
“Never have I ever…,” he says, and takes a deep breath. It feels like an eternity passes while he considers what to say for his turn. I’m about to joke that it’s already New Year’s when he finally speaks.
“… told anyone you were my first crush.”
A moment passes …
Another moment passes …
Multiple moments pass and I still haven’t said anything.
If not for my pulse ringing in my ears, I would think that I was having a stroke. Someone could write a love story about this moment. A boy tells a girl he had a crush on her; girl proceeds to have a stroke.
Seph was the first non-blood-related boy I was ever aware of.
One of my earliest memories was our moms pushing the two of us to perform during Seph’s seventh birthday.
Maybe this “crush” thing he’s confessing is all about proximity.
I was the girl who was in his vicinity when he hit puberty.
Of course his newfound horniness would latch on to the closest target.
And maybe it’s not really me who he’s attracted to. Maybe I’m an early sign for Seph to realize he’s into talented women. Like, he doesn’t find me hot. He finds talented girls hot.
I only snap back to reality when Seph speaks up.
“Your turn to confess something,” he prompts.
“Th-that wasn’t a confession,” I argue, clearing my throat. “I—I was a very talented kid and had lots of admirers.”
Seph’s annoying grin pops on his face again. “How many admirers, exactly?”
“Lots,” I insist. “Some might say I was a superstar.”
For some reason, his eyes turn soft at that. “That’s what your dad called you, right?”
The concern in his face makes my eyes prick.
He then says, “I miss my dad too.”
“Did he get stuck in Amsterdam?”
Seph answers with a shrug. “Probably with his new family.”
New family?
“Do you know my mom came up with the whole Moseph name because of my dad?” Seph says, his eyes lingering on the ceiling.
“She thought they were having lots of problems because she had a hard time getting pregnant. So when I came into the picture, I was supposed to be the miracle baby, the one who’d make everything better.
“But then the night they brought me home,” he continues, and takes a deep breath. “Ma was with your parents when my dad kept taking calls on his phone …
“… Then my mom found out he was already seeing someone else.”
Seph’s eyes are welling up when he scoffs, “Turns out I wasn’t the miracle baby.”
This is what Pa meant when he said Seph’s dad isn’t around.
“My mom always talks about my dad like they’re still in love. Talks about him like he’s the best husband in the world,” he says, shaking his head. “And I used to be like that too. I joined all those musicals, got into acting because those were the only times he’d actually pay attention.”
I’m about to spit out some of the best curse words for Uncle Francis when Seph starts listing nice things about him.
“But my dad … I know some part of him cares about us.” Seph then tells me stories of how in love he and his mom were, how his dad always contacts him during his birthdays.
I don’t know why he defends Uncle Francis for the bare minimum.
But I guess if either of my parents decided one day that they never wanted to see me again, I would keep loving them too.
Even if Achi suddenly wanted nothing to do with me, I would still smack anyone who talked shit about her.
Maybe love has no real limits when it comes to family.
“Shit, sorry,” Seph curses while wiping his eyes on his sleeves. “This is what you call embodying vulnerability, Ilagan.”
I try to nod while blinking back the tears burning in my throat.
“Are you … crying?” he asks.
I avert my eyes and kick his foot. “Seeing you cry makes me cry!”
It’s annoying how he’s even capable of laughing at this point. “I know what will cheer both of us up.” His head turns my way. “Let’s revisit that whole you finding me cute again.”
I brush the sides of my eyes with my palms. “Um. You’re the one who had the crush on me.”
He bumps my leg back and then I notice his foot rests against mine. He’s so close that I can smell his faint vanilla scent, see his eyelashes move when he blinks, feel his chest rise and fall when he breathes …
I have no idea what’s louder—my heart racing or all the thoughts swirling in my head.
Another contender could be the alarm buzzing in my pocket.
“Oh!” I take out my phone and the clock reads twelve. “I think it’s Christmas.”
“Oh!” Seph moves to stand, and it quickly sets in that our situation at midnight has not changed from our situation at 11:59 PM. We are still very much stuck in this elevator.
He slides back down next to me and picks on the sampaguita lei still hanging around my neck. “Any chance these flowers can give us a ‘Christmas miracle’?”
“Hopefully,” I say. “I didn’t get to finish my buko pie.”
“Come on. The real highlight of the night was the scrambled eggs.”
My eyes narrow at him. “Seriously. What do you need from me?”
“Nothing.” He puts his hand over his heart. “I really think they’re good!”
I scoff and shake my head even though my insides did a little leap when he complimented the eggs’ texture.
Silence stretches over us as we watch the red E flash on and off. Seph is the one who breaks the silence again.
“Did you really find me cute?”
I groan. “Moseph, so many girls in my class find you cute.”
“Didn’t know you did, though.”
“Your mom did say, ‘As a proper lady, you’re not supposed to initiate.’”
Seph rolls his eyes. “My mom gets a lot of things wrong.”
A beat passes and I barely hear Seph when he adds, “I wish you would’ve initiated.”
His words pulse through the air, and I’m reminded again of how small this elevator is. Seph’s face always makes these goofy expressions when he’s thinking something through, and I hate how … nice his face looks.
I hate how I like looking at his face, how my eyes are always drawn to how wide his shoulders are, how I wonder what it’d feel like if our bodies were pressed together in this elevator …
It dawns on me then.
Shit. Do I still find Moseph King cute?
“Why didn’t you initiate?” I manage to ask, past the somersaulting in my chest.
“Would it have made a difference?”
“Maybe.” I hesitate before admitting, “I could’ve told you that you were my first crush too.”
He blinks; I blink.
My gaze follows him when he catches my eye. His look then travels over the rest of my face, and his hand moves from the sampaguita to gently lifting my chin. He inches closer and I brush my fingers through his hair. It’s even softer than I imagined.
And when my lips meet Seph’s? I also fully understand why Auntie Baby could talk about her first kiss for years and years.
“Merry Christmas, Ilagan,” he breathes out.
And Auntie Baby did get that one thing right: Christmas is more magical when you’re kissed.