Chapter 31
“So, does the fact that your name is Eve make you love these holidays more or less?” Cash asks, crunching on a handful of Trader Joe’s tree-shaped tortilla chips and sitting cross-legged on our couch.
Eve laughs and reaches for the peppermint Joe-Joe’s on the coffee table.
Izaac was extra generous with his employee discount and dropped off a ton of Trader Joe’s snacks yesterday while I was finishing editing.
They are now arranged suspiciously within Cash’s reach.
“You know, I can’t say I’ve really thought about it,” Eve says, taking a bite of the cookie.
“Well, I think it’s pretty fabulous to share your name with a holiday. Actually, two!” he says.
“I think I’d rather be associated with currency, actually,” Eve responds.
“Do you all know what Diya’s name means?
” Reena asks us as she enters the room and places a tray of Cooper sparkling cider and copycat Mother Earth mocktails on the coffee table.
She’s wearing some 2027 glasses in glittery purple and takes a seat on the armchair across from us as she tells us, “It means ‘light.’?”
“As in, ‘let your heart be…’?” I ask, putting my head on Diya’s shoulder before stealing a sip of her drink. Seichi, who is sitting on her other side, apparently feels left out, so he lays his head on Diya’s other shoulder.
“She definitely brightens my days,” Cash says, gesturing to the file of papers with a Polaroid attached she just passed him.
She got him a poinsettia for Christmas, explaining that she hoped it would help keep him company in his new place.
Naturally, she’s also given him instructions on how to care for the plant for the rest of the year.
Cash has been telling all of us for the last week that he can’t wait to become a plant daddy in his new glittery New York life.
We’re all planning to go to Brooklyn to help Cash move and belatedly celebrate his eighteenth birthday with pizza and doughnuts in his new place—an apartment he’ll share with some other recent grads not far from Audra’s.
And the most exhilarating Christmas-slash-birthday gift ever came early for Cash—before she left town on Christmas Eve, Johnna offered him a job as her assistant-slash-intern-slash-comic-relief.
Johnna promised to teach him some techniques and introduce him to a few people who might be able to help him on his journey to becoming Broadway’s next costume designer icon.
He’s been so motivated ever since shedding the weight of his big decision.
He’s planning to start work on his GED, and came over the other day to show Naomi and me the portfolio he’s pulling together for design schools based on Johnna’s advice.
It’s been so inspiring and incredible to witness.
I, on the other hand, am thrilled to have zero applications due. It has been exactly three hours since I turned in my last submission.
In the end, I decided that my purpose isn’t something I know entirely just yet.
What I learned more than anything from my indie documentary project is that there is so much to learn—about the world, and about myself.
I’ve talked about film school so consistently for so long, that I never paused to reevaluate if it was still what I really wanted, and I realized I wasn’t ready to commit four years and all that tuition money before I really understood my options.
So I’ve decided to take a gap year. I’ve started looking at potential jobs in the city as a production assistant or something in the industry.
Or maybe even at a bakery, so I can study people and find inspiration.
I’ve also applied for three different young filmmaker grants, which would help me fund my life in Brooklyn based on a project I’ve pitched—the first of which is a film about a queer girl who goes to the big city to find her dream girl to have her first kiss—and prove the value of believing in real-life magic.
Either way, for now I’m choosing to be curious and open, instead of sticking to the script.
I’m going to try new things and see where life takes me.
Maybe it’ll still be film school, but if it is, when the time comes, I’ll feel confident knowing I’ve done the research.
Maybe I’ll even document it all with my new (old) camera.
I’m proud of what I put together and what I learned in the process, and tonight, on New Year’s Eve, I’m screening the results, my late Christmas gift, to my friends.
“Sorry I’m late!” Izaac says, bursting in and shucking off his coat. “Just finished dinner with my mom and put Audra on the train.”
“Thank god,” Eve said. “Carlos spent the whole week planning their brunch for tomorrow.”
Eve told me earlier that Carlos is taking Tía’s advice (or dictate) to take New Year’s Day off. He’s still planning to cook, but this time only for Audra, rather than the entire borough of Brooklyn.
“He’s had us taste-testing versions of his chilaquiles all week long. Normally I wouldn’t complain, but I’m getting a little tired of having eggs jammed in my face four times a day,” she says. “He is so excited for her to come back to Brooklyn.”
After the Cooper party, Audra stayed in Ripton for the week.
They sat down with their parents and presented a unified front.
The Evans siblings have a new shared plan: to pursue their own dreams—whatever those might be—and to support each other no matter what path they choose.
And together, they also had a family discussion about their parents’ marriage.
Izaac and Audra suggested that they at least separate—that it would be better for everyone, and that they deserve a chance to be happy too.
She and Izaac have been helping their father get situated in an apartment-style hotel until he finds a place of his own, and making sure their mother is okay in their home during the transition.
Audra and Izaac said that Roxanne and Robert are already in much better spirits.
The four of them even actually enjoyed a holiday meal together, and Izaac reported that it was “very civilized.”
“I hope Carlos is ready. That diva is a lot right now,” Izaac says. “She tried like six hairstyles yesterday and I can opine no more.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I say, throwing a handful of popcorn at him.
“Anyway, excited to come down next week and strategize!” Izaac says, ignoring this and keeping his focus on Eve.
Carlos told Izaac that night at Cooper that he wants to run for local office next year, and asked to talk with him about formulating a plan. I’ll be hitching a ride to this meeting so I can hang out with Eve.
“All right, y’all. As the mother, I get a front row seat,” Naomi says, coming in from the kitchen with more popcorn. She drops one bowl on the coffee table and keeps one all to herself.
She got home a few hours ago from visiting Michelle, in time for us to have dinner together before everyone showed up.
Since our talk, Naomi and I have implemented a rule where we have at least one meal a day together.
If it can’t be dinner, we have a proper breakfast, or at the very least strudel and cocoa in the afternoon.
While she went, I stayed home to prepare for dinner (we’ve been eating our free turkey for a solid week, trying to find new ways to make it interesting but honestly, I’m running out of ideas) and this party.
I still don’t know if or when I’ll feel ready to see my sister, or even open her letter, but Naomi and I found a therapist together.
Next week is my first session, and I’m looking for support groups in the area that I can join before I move too. It’s a good start.
Making those decisions freed me up to think about other things, finally.
For the last week, I have worked on this film nonstop, aside from the moments I spent on FaceTime with Eve.
She’s been back in Brooklyn, working her bakery shifts, sending me encouragement—and photos of cookies—plus spending time with Hugo, who is now sitting beside her.
We want to keep him close and familiar with all of us.
Plus, we would have missed him if he weren’t here.
“Now, will the director say a few words before showtime?” Naomi asks.
“I’d be honored,” I say, taking a small bow.
“So, as you all know, it is customary in our modern academic society to request that students hoping to enter the halls of higher education submit an application for entry, along with what is commonly known as a “Statement of Purpose.” And recently, I was among that vast group of hopefuls facing this very challenge.
“Now, normally, I love a challenge. And there was a time I’d have had no problem stating my purpose, either.
I’d have said, ‘I’m going to make Christmas rom-coms that center queer characters.
’ The end! Because Christmas magic, and joy and optimism and all the other principles therein—those are the things I hoped to promote most in this world.
“But I realized something this season. That the people around me, some who I knew and loved, and some I’d just met, were having a hard time holding on to their faith in that magic.
Maybe they were stressed, or busy, or life had tested their belief.
So instead of sitting down to complete my applications based on my existing experience, I made it my purpose to go out into the world and have new ones—to find and document magic in the real world, in an effort to prove it exists.
“Which, I admit—probably not what these schools had in mind for this assignment?
“But I couldn’t shake the impulse to pursue that purpose. It felt bigger and more important than just getting an acceptance letter, you know?
“And yet, well… my ideas don’t always go exactly according to plan.”
This gets a few chuckles and knowing looks.
“And I didn’t find magic as easily as I thought I would.
Sometimes I even found pain or heartache…
even vermin! And I ran into another problem too, which is that my own faith was wavering.
I was becoming so afraid of losing my loved ones, my sense of home, my traditions.
I was afraid of the future, and the unexpected.
And so instead of expanding my definition of magic, I tried to keep my little world intact, and hold everyone I care about in a little bubble with me for as long as possible—so the magic couldn’t escape.
“But then I realized that if I stayed in that bubble, I was going to end up alone in there. The only solution was to face my fears, stop avoiding reality, give up on always writing the script, and try some new things—which I really did not want to do.
“But a funny thing happened. I took some baby steps outside the bubble, and it was actually easier to find magic, because I was discovering new forms of it too—first in little things like miso hot cocoa, and tamales, and bar trivia—and then in much bigger, more substantial ways.
I had experiences I never knew to hope for that filled me with all those Christmas feelings I love so much.
I also realized I had to allow the people I love to do the same, and give them my support.
“I found out that real magic isn’t something you can define or capture or prove.
It’s something we all have the power to create, as long as we’re open to possibility.
That’s why we associate magic so specifically with Christmas—not because the Hallmarks and the Coca-Colas tell us to, or because we believe a guy in a red suit can bring us gifts that will make our lives perfect.
But because it’s the time of year when we take a step back, take a closer look at the world, and share more quality time with the people we love.
It’s when we’re the most open, and openness is the opposite of fear.
Without it, you can’t hope to see all the ways that magic manifests.
“Once I learned that lesson, I knew my purpose wasn’t to prove that magic is real. It’s to point out that you don’t have to choose between reality and magic, and that people have the power to make reality magical.
“Not just at the holidays, either, if—to quote a wise miser—you honor Christmas in your heart, and try to keep it all the year.”
I pause to wink at Hugo, who beams back at me.
“The spoiler on my Statement of Purpose? Well, plot twist! I decided not to apply to school after all. But the irony is that going through the exercise didn’t just help me articulate my purpose, it gave me one.
“And this new year, I plan to pursue that purpose. To carry the spirit of openness with me. To go out into the world without a script. To stay grounded but not forget to look for possibility. And to always listen to, support, and be grateful for the people in my life who helped me find my way, all while I thought I was guiding them back to the magic.”
I fold up the paper I’d scribbled my notes on, and when I look up, both my mom and Reena have tears in their eyes.
Cash has his head on Izaac’s shoulder, and Diya is smiling at me, holding Seichi’s hand in her lap.
And as I gaze around the room at the people I love most in this world, all gathered around me on the cusp of a new year, it reminds me that no matter the outcome, I’m not alone.
This film may never earn me any accolades or grants, but right now, it’s exactly what I need it to be.
A way to stay connected with the people around me.
I thank the audience, and they applaud and yelp and whoop and someone throws popcorn in the air, and when I feel tears, they’re uncomplicated, joyful ones.
I take a seat on the floor next to Eve.
“Perfect, Strudel,” she whispers as I reach into her bowl of popcorn. “So perfectly you.”
Her words still send sparkles through me. We have no idea where this thing between us is going, but we’ve decided to trust and believe—not just in magic, but in each other.
I look at the clock. There’s plenty of time before midnight. Where any of us will be next New Year’s Eve remains to be seen. Time will tell that story, not me, but I will be listening closely. For now, Eve takes one of my hands, and with my other, I press play on my new favorite love story.
Pretty sure this one is going to be a classic.