Chapter Seventeen
Pinky opens the door and breaks into a relieved smile. “You made it, thank God,” she says, her voice rising.
Dalisay shushes her but can’t help but laugh. “Don’t make a scene. It’s a wake.”
“The body’s not here. He’s in a funeral parlor,” Pinky says, offhandedly.
“As if that makes a difference?” Nicole whispers as she slides her shoes off at the entrance. “A funeral’s a funeral.”
The day after lunch at the Saatchis, Pinky invited Dalisay and Nicole over to her aunt’s house to help make pancit palabok for Pinky’s second cousin’s stepfather’s brother’s funeral. The family tree may have a lot of roots, but no matter how far it stretches, family is family.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here,” Pinky says, leading them into the house. “I think you’re the only people under sixty to walk through those doors.”
She isn’t kidding. Dalisay counts at least a dozen older women sitting around on couches in the living room or at the table in the dining room, laughing and chatting as they make preparations for the funeral. It’s far livelier than Dalisay expected, but it’s still a wake. Most are talking about memories of the recently deceased.
Pinky introduces them to the house, and Dalisay and Nicole wave to the groups, before Pinky guides them to the kitchen where a woman is already there peeling garlic and shrimp.
“Auntie Tala,” says Pinky. “Nicole and Dalisay are here.”
Looking up from a bowl full of garlic slivers, Tala—an older woman wearing a bulky beaded necklace and huge, coke-bottle glasses—smiles at them. “Welcome, girls! Welcome! More hands the better.”
Nicole and Dalisay get situated, setting out bowls and cutting boards, as they ready themselves to make enough pancit palabok for what they assume must be to feed the entire West Coast.
Tala leaves to attend to other things around the house while Nicole and Dalisay work quietly, sitting side by side at the table, not saying much of anything except “Pass the bowl?” And “Can you get some more garlic?”
When Nicole focuses, her whole face changes. Dalisay knows this look. She’s lasered in on dicing the garlic, concentrating with furrowed brows and firm lips, maneuvering the knife like a surgeon. Right now, she looks much like she does when she’s studying for exams.
It’s been like this between them since the baby shower—the eggshells have been well trod upon. Nicole refuses to be alone in a room with Dalisay, and even when Dalisay tries to ask her innocent enough questions, Nicole finds any excuse to leave. She’s clearly freaked out about Dalisay meeting Claire, but she won’t give Dalisay one moment for them to talk about it.
The space between them fills up with all the things she wants to say, but here, with gossiping aunties within earshot, there’s no chance of privacy. All Dalisay wants to do is grab Nicole by the shoulders, shake her, and tell her she’s loved.
Pinky must sense that something is off, because every so often Dalisay notices her gaze flick between the two of them and she clears her throat, as if the garlic is to blame.
By the time Tala comes back into the kitchen, they’ve chopped so many cloves Dalisay’s nose stings. “I need an extra pair of hands to help—”
Nicole stands up so quickly, Tala can’t finish. “I can do it.” She sounds almost relieved not to have to sit in the kitchen anymore. She exits, leaving Dalisay and Pinky at the table.
“Why is garlic so sticky?” Pinky asks, pinching her index finger and thumb like they’re glued together. Dalisay doesn’t reply, she just lets out a long sigh, and Pinky pauses in her garlic peeling to glance up. “What?”
Dalisay shakes her head. Pinky is like a German shepherd, ears perked and eyes alert with concern. She glances from the doorway to Dalisay and back. She gestures with her knife. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No,” Dalisay says.
Pinky pinches the corners of her mouth in but gets back to peeling garlic.
Dalisay wishes she could ask Pinky for advice, but it’s so hard. How is she supposed to confide in her without letting anything slip?
But things can’t stay this way, and if anyone would understand, it was Pinky. She can trust her. Dalisay is so glad to have a friend here who gets where she comes from.
“I have this friend,” Dalisay says.
Pinky’s gaze slides toward her. “A friend?”
“A coworker. A friend who is also a coworker.”
“Uh-huh,” says Pinky, slightly narrowing her eyes. “At Overnight?”
“Yes! Well, this friend-coworker, she has a girlfriend. But she grew up in … Arkansas, yeah, and her parents are super strict, uh … Baptists.”
“Right,” Pinky says.
“I had one of those once!” A little old lady with a hunched back appears from the living room, shuffling into the kitchen. “Prickly fellow. Loved the sun.”
“BAP-tist, Auntie Maria. Not cactus.” The old lady makes a noise of understanding and shuffles back out, carrying a bowl to the living room. “So this friend,” says Pinky, shaking her head, “she’s not sure her parents will approve of her relationship?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? But she definitely isn’t telling the people who are closest to her. No one knows she’s gay.”
“Is this friend, coworker, whatever, feeling unsafe?”
Dalisay’s heart sinks. “I hope not. I don’t care that she’s a lesbian. I just want her to feel confident in who she is. We used to share everything, and now it feels like …” Dalisay trails off. She may be giving away her hand.
Pinky nods thoughtfully as a threesome of aunties come shuffling in like a flock of colorful birds, clucking and hooting to themselves. “Lesbian, ruled by air, very good sign. All about balance and harmonious relationships. Plagued with digestive problems, though.”
“Lesbian? You’re thinking Libra,” one of them says.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“Lesbian is an island,” says the last.
“Oh my God,” Pinky groans, wielding the knife. “Can you eavesdrop somewhere else?”
The kitchen empties again as the ladies exit and Pinky takes a deep breath and leans back in her chair as she watches Dalisay for a long moment. Finally she says, “Is this … friend happy?”
Dalisay thinks about it for a second. “I think so.”
That’s what matters in the end, isn’t it? Happiness? Dalisay doesn’t care about anything else, so long as Nicole is well and truly satisfied with anyone she chooses. To be able to love someone, to be in love with someone, to be loved back, isn’t that the best feeling in the world? The way she feels with Evan, she wants that for Nicole. Her mom should see that, and if she doesn’t … it could tear the family apart.
After her dad died, her mom put on a brave face for the family, but Dalisay knew that it was a struggle to navigate life with the gaping hole that was her father’s absence. But would she be able to accept Nicole’s queerness?
“I think you’re a good friend-slash-coworker,” says Pinky. “You care enough to worry about her. I think it’s sweet.”
Dalisay tries to smile, but she’s not sure it’s enough. She doesn’t know what else to do.
Pinky’s aunt Tala returns, Nicole still absent. Dalisay spots her in the backyard winding up cords of lights that will be used at the funeral.
“I think this coworker friend of yours should be honest with her parents,” Aunt Tala says, grabbing two sodas from the fridge. “Better to face the music than lie and sneak around. That is much more disrespectful to one’s parents than being in love with the wrong person.”
Dalisay’s stomach twists uncomfortably. Is it?
“Staying in the closet isn’t lying,” Pinky says. “It’s different. No one owes anyone else the intimate details about their sexuality.”
Tala shrugs. “Family is the most important. It should come first. Everyone knows that.”
Tala and Pinky argue about it while Dalisay watches Nicole outside as she closes the boxes and carries them around to the driveway, loading them into a car. Dalisay would do anything for her.
Pinky is fed up with the argument with her aunt. She throws her hands in the air. “If a family’s love is conditional, what’s the point? Being gay shouldn’t matter.”
“Family is all we have left in the end,” says Tala.
Later, Dalisay drives them home. Nicole has her feet kicked up on the dashboard and Dalisay swipes at her boots.
“Sorry,” Nicole says. “Habit.”
A smile twitches Dalisay’s lips. Nicole’s always been one to do things her own way. “Hey, are you happy?” Dalisay asks.
Nicole looks at her, tilting her head. “Yeah … Why?”
“No, are you happy?” She’s trying to lean on the word, trying to emphasize the point she’s trying to make, if Claire makes her feel good.
Nicole blinks a few times, then disgust wipes across her face. “Oh! Christ, Dalisay! Is that your way of asking if I’m gay?”
Dalisay nearly jerks the wheel into oncoming traffic. “Oh no! No! I didn’t mean it—”
“Well, that’s how it sounds!”
“I swear!” Dalisay says, holding out a hand. “I didn’t! I’m only asking if you’re satisfied with how you’re feeling!”
Nicole stares at her for a long second, her lips pulled into a sneer, but she scoffs and shakes her head, looking out the window to the dark night.
The silence between them is growing larger, swelling like an ocean, and Dalisay is caught in a riptide. It’s pulling her even farther away from Nicole. She can’t give up.
“Listen,” she starts, “about the baby shower …”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dalisay presses her lips together and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “Claire seems—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Will you ever? I can’t pretend I don’t know.”
“Try,” snaps Nicole.
Dalisay takes in a sharp breath. If she pushes too hard now, Nicole will shut her down. She taps on the steering wheel again and decides it’s time to close the gap between them. Enough not talking. “I saw you two, you and Claire, at the hospital.”
Nicole goes rigid, staring out the window.
“I didn’t want to say anything, even at the baby shower, but … You looked so happy. I thought you should know. I love you.” Dalisay can’t remember the last time she’s actually said it. “I love you more than anything in this whole world. I don’t want you to forget that.”
Nicole continues to stare out the window.
“You deserve to be loved.” Dalisay clears her throat. “That’s all I care about.”
Nicole doesn’t say anything for a long time, even while Dalisay turns the car into Outer Richmond, past all the marina-style houses Nicole always says she wants to live in one day.
“I wish I could help you more than I can,” Dalisay says. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”
“I know. But it’s my choice, my decision, to tell people or not.”
That’s fair, Dalisay thinks. Pinky is right. No one is entitled to know another person’s sexuality. “I’m sorry I put you in a tough spot with Claire at the shower.”
Nicole huffs out a laugh. “I knew I could only keep it a secret for so long … I didn’t think Claire would mean as much to me as she does.”
“I get it … I really do,” Dalisay says. “How’d you two meet?”
Nicole shifts in her seat, like the subject makes her want to crawl out of her skin, but she takes a deep breath and finally says, “It’s stupid.”
“I bet it’s not.”
Nicole rolls her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifts up as she relents. “I couldn’t find the urine cups.”
“Okay, that is stupid.” Nicole slaps Dalisay on the arm and Dalisay laughs.
“I was in the storeroom and couldn’t find the urine cups, someone didn’t put them in the usual place, so I was practically tearing up the room to find them and Claire came in because she heard all the noise and helped me.” As she talks, Nicole’s face gets redder, and she trails off toward the end like she’s run out of air.
Dalisay can’t stop smiling. She’s never heard her sister sound so sweet.
Nicole takes another shuddering breath and wrings her hands in her lap. “I don’t … know what I am, okay?” she says, so quietly Dalisay almost doesn’t hear her over the rumble of the tires. “I can’t …” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “Claire is … special. We started out as friends at first, and I didn’t think … She’s … She makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. I … I don’t want to have this defining thing, this capital letter adjective that everyone uses when they talk about me.”
Dalisay doesn’t say anything. She keeps her eyes on the road.
“I’m scared that if I do come out, it’ll change … everything.” She says it like she’s gasping for breath. Dalisay’s eyes flick to her and she sees Nicole’s chin wobbling. Nicole furtively wipes her eyes on the back of her wrists and takes a shaking breath. She’s always kept everything close to her chest, like she doesn’t want the world to see her in a way she can’t control. When they were little, she used to be the one who would scrape her knee and smile and say it didn’t hurt, but Dalisay knew she would go into their room later and cry.
Dalisay has no idea what it feels like to carry that kind of burden. The world is a cruel, sometimes unforgiving place, and to be different in a world obsessed with categories and boxes … It must be terrifying.
“Maybe you should invite Claire over to the house.”
Nicole whips her head, eyes wide, terrified. “What! Are you crazy?”
“Mom needs to get used to her, just like she got used to Evan.”
“It’s not the same!”
“You don’t have to tell her anything!”
Nicole scoffs again and shakes her head. “She’s not stupid.”
“If you tell her, she’ll be shocked at first, we both know that, but she’ll see how you two are together. She has to understand.”
“Does she? Have to?” Nicole asks.
Nicole has always been the one to say yes; Dalisay has been the one to say no, finding a million reasons not to do something. For once, their roles have reversed.
Dalisay takes in a deep breath. “Evan and I have been sleeping together.”
Nicole’s eyes go wide. “Don’t tell me Mom knows.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“So then you know full-well why I can’t just tell her my secret if you won’t even tell her yours!”
“I’m saying that I’m on your side! I have your back! And now you have ammunition you can use against me, if you so choose.”
Nicole doesn’t sound convinced because she snorts and shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“You never know unless you try,” says Dalisay. “You were the one who encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone with Evan and look how that turned out.”
Nicole lets out a huge, heavy sigh and groans. “What if it all goes horribly wrong?”
“What if it goes spectacularly right?” Dalisay’s lip curls. “And I won’t even make up a song about you and Claire either, because I’m such a nice sister.”
Nicole actually laughs and it’s like opening a window after a rainstorm.
They fall into silence again, but it’s not the weighted kind that permeated the car earlier. It’s a full silence, warm and affectionate. Dalisay knows Nicole isn’t mad at her, and never really had been, but it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.
“You really like Claire, don’t you?” Dalisay can’t help the sly smile.
“Yeah,” Nicole says, then she sees the smile and slaps Dalisay in the bicep. “Shut up!”
Dalisay is so relieved to have Nicole somewhat back to her normal self.
“Did you ever find them?” she asks.
“Find what?”
“The urine cups.”
“We did. And Claire slipped her phone number in my hand when she gave them to me.” She’s blushing again, like a teenager, and it makes Dalisay even more confident that their mom will see how happy Nicole is. That has to mean something. It has to.
Nicole seems to understand that too. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll invite Claire over.”
Dalisay smiles, a little victorious.