Chapter 32
I didn’t know joy could cause insomnia too.
My thoughts usually spiral when I go to sleep: What if I say the wrong thing to Ma again tomorrow? What if something happens, and my sister is all the way in Florida?
This is the first time I’m spiraling about something good happening.
“Never have I ever told anyone you were my first crush.”
Seph’s words keep ringing in my ears when I replay what happened in the elevator over and over again. Was that really me? Did I really get kissed?
I hear Achi snoring in the bed next to mine when my hand goes to my mouth, still tender from Seph’s touch. It doesn’t seem real—that I live in a universe where I get my first kiss then spend the night listening to my sister’s snoring.
“Never have I ever told anyone you were my first crush.”
Wait.
Were.
First.
Seph used words that very much imply past tense. I mean, I said that he was my first crush, too, but he confessed first! Ball was very much in his court. He had all the opportunity in the world to expound on his confession.
But he didn’t.
Once the elevator got fixed, we were all so busy trying to console our mothers that Seph and I were all right that no one probed what happened while we were stuck.
Pa was the only one shooting me suspicious glances for the rest of the night.
Even Seph was acting like the kiss never happened.
After Auntie Baby had reached her wine quota, Seph took her home, thanked Ma for hosting, and left our place like it was any other Christmas.
If I’m his first crush, does that mean I’m not his present crush?
Lord. Look how quickly we resorted back to spiraling about sad things.
I kick the covers and stumble out of my bed.
Nope, nope. It is Christmas Day, and more importantly, the day I got my first kiss.
I’m not going to waste my time decoding a boy’s use of past and present tense.
There should be no room for sad thoughts today. Happy thoughts only!!!
When I gently close my door and lunge past the two-step stairway to the living room, I find Pa lying down on the couch.
Since Achi stayed over tonight, he insisted that he stay outside so we don’t feel too cramped.
He didn’t budge even though I argued that a ghost doesn’t really take up much space.
I wonder if this is Pa’s form of silent treatment.
Is he mad about my comment that he always jokes around and laughs things off?
“You’re still up?” Pa asks when he notices me.
It’s the same thing he asked me before I lost him. The night before everything changed, Pa came into my bedroom to check on me. He always tried to help when I had trouble sleeping.
After he asked if I was still up, Pa tapped my wrist and knelt by my bed. “Let’s make a deal, Superstar,” he whispered. “If you try to get some sleep tonight, we can go somewhere fun after school tomorrow.”
“Promise?” I asked Pa.
I remember Pa saying he promised before kissing me good night.
And then the next day, it was Ma who showed up at dismissal instead of Pa.
He never picked me up from school again.
Stop, stop! I internally scream at my brain. This is Christmas, and on Christmas, there’s room for happy thoughts only!
I’m shaking away any memories of that day when I slide next to Pa on the couch. The stack he kept inside the piano bench is laid across his lap. We haven’t really talked since I snapped at him after noche buena.
“Does your body still not sleep?” I ask him.
Pa shakes his head.
“Don’t you get tired?”
He smiles my concern away. “I kind of like it,” Pa says. “It gives me more time to look over things.
“Like … this photo.”
Pa shows me the horrendous family Christmas photo where I have a triple chin from how hard I’m scowling.
He clutches it tighter when I try snatching it away from him. “I thought I destroyed all copies of that.”
“But it’s my favorite photo of you. It really shows off my beautiful daughter’s eyes.” Pa holds up the picture right next to my face. I scowl even harder.
“When I greeted you Merry Christmas that year, you stomped off and said it’s not merry, Pa.”
“Because you made me perform with your coworker’s son.”
“But you loved performing.”
“He was a DJ, Pa.”
Pa’s partner in his warehouse business had an aspiring DJ son who now goes by the name DJ Tofu. Many Christmases ago, Pa suggested we do a song number together at our annual family Christmas party. DJ Tofu turned down my microphone because my voice was getting in the way of his “beats.”
“Heard he’s in the lineup for some summer festival next year.”
Of course, I got this information from Auntie Baby.
“Really?” Pa asks. “You should check him out.”
“Or maybe we could…”
I’m trying to gauge if he can see himself sticking around for that long, but Pa doesn’t pick up on the hint. He’s already gone back to looking at more photos.
“Remember this?”
Pa shows me a drawing of a coupon with the words Valid for 1 gift scribbled on it. “You gave me this when you were nine, I think.”
I nod, remembering. “I felt bad when you and Ma gave me a Christmas gift and I didn’t have anything for you.”
“I can think of a perfect gift you can give me this year.”
Pa then points his lips at the magic mic that Auntie Baby left behind.
“I’m still recovering from my performance with DJ Tofu.”
He raises his finger. “One song?” he asks. “I miss singing with my superstar.”
Once Pa switches on the mics, “Christmas in Our Hearts” by Jose Mari Chan is already lined up in the queue. The machine flashes different shades of red and green when the opening melody plays. He offers me the other mic attached to the side and I hesitate.
I was already sobbing by the end of our Battle of the Bands performance. Getting to sing again with Pa during Christmas in our living room … am I ready for that?
“Whenever I see girls and boys selling lanterns on the street…” Pa croons along to the classic Jose Mari Chan song.
He smiles when I move to pick up the second mic he left on the couch cushion.
I wait until the pre-chorus before I start singing the lyrics that I know by heart.
This used to be our family’s favorite one to perform—I swear, I even caught Achi singing along once.
I remember Pa and I would still be singing this song all the way until March, even when all the Christmas lights were taken down.
My voice cracks when I hit the high note at the ending chorus and I laugh when Pa copies the note, messing up too. God. I’ve missed singing.
I thought Achi was humoring me when she said that Pa would’ve been proud of me during the Battle of the Bands night.
In my dreams, reuniting with Pa always happens in the far future when I have time to get my shit together.
I figured that when I grow up, I’d find my way to become someone my parents could be proud of.
But sitting on our family’s favorite couch, butchering a Filipino Christmas classic—I guess I never thought that my dad would enjoy spending time with the version of me now.
The two of us stop laughing when we hear footsteps coming from the area near the bedrooms.
I turn down the machine’s volume and the melody plays in the background when Achi steps into the light.
Her eyes go straight to where our dad is sitting.
“It really was your voice.”
Finally, my sister can see Pa too.