Chapter Twenty-Three
Evan marches up to the Ramos house before the morning sun rises. He had to get up an hour early to catch the bus to Dalisay’s neighborhood before work because Bettie refused to move this morning, the one time he needed things to work out for him. It’s almost as if the universe is actively working against him, telling him that all his efforts are for nothing, but Evan is not one to let the universe or anyone else tell him what to do.
The morning promises that the day will be warm, but a haze of fog lingers over the street and the house is dark. Evan supposes most of the family will be asleep, but he doesn’t need to disturb them.
The “Presentation of Gifts” went horribly the last time Evan went through this. This time around, he needs to make the gifts personal.
On the porch, he sets down a folded packet of paper adorned with a simple paper bow. It’s a map of Kyoto, one of the places Dalisay says is the most romantic. He remembers. He was listening. Maybe they can still go together someday, just like they’d planned.
He adjusts the bow on the paper and leaves it on the doorstep as he heads to work. Someone will find it in a few hours, including the note he left, quoting Lao Tzu:
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
The second day, he leaves a Vietnamese-style lantern, like the ones seen in Hoi An. It’s made of red paper, hand-painted with delicate jasmine flowers, like the flowers Dalisay wore in her hair during the first day of Simbang Gabi. He still thinks about how beautiful she looked.
The third day, he leaves a framed sketch he drew himself depicting the Parthenon in Rome. When he was there, he thought only of Dalisay. As he leaves her house, he spots Mrs. Ramos watching him from the window. Evan simply waves and continues his trek to work, feeling Mrs. Ramos’s eyes following him all the way down the block.
The fourth day, he leaves a framed photo from their day with Lola at the ice-skating rink on Christmas Eve, the one the photographer had taken in front of the tree. The built-in lights on Dalisay’s sweater threw off the exposure of the photo, pitching the rest of the background into darkness but making their smiles brighter. It was one of the best days of his life.
Before he can set it down, the door flies open and Mrs. Ramos stands there, staring at him. Her eyes go to the gift in his hands, and he holds it out to her. When she takes it from him, he just smiles and leaves for work.
The fifth and final day, Evan makes leche flan. He found a recipe, bought all the ingredients, and—the whole week leading up to the day—he tested it himself so he could get it just right. It was a lot more technical than he’d expected. He’s no baker, but he’s proud of his work, despite it looking like it’s melting. He nearly dropped it getting off the bus.
On the note, he wrote:
I know this won’t be as good as your mother’s, but I have to start somewhere.
He leaves the Tupperware on the doorstep and by the time he turns to look back, it’s gone.
Dalisay watches Evan go, holding herself tightly in the living room window, but she leaves before he can look back. She hears the door close, and her mom comes up the stairs, holding the Tupperware. Another gift from Evan. She can’t help the thrill that swoops inside of her at the sight of it. All of his gifts have made her swoon.
The map, the lantern, the sketch, the photo … It’s all perfect. He’s actually doing it, the Five Stages. She’s not reading into things at all. A ridiculous smile spreads across her face and she doesn’t even try to hide it. Pinky and Nicole have to be in on it. If she didn’t love them so much, she would pinch them for it, both by way of appreciation and for playing with her emotions.
Her mom hands her the note Evan left, and the family gathers around the kitchen island to look at his attempt at a leche flan.
“It looks like it’s melting,” says Daniel.
Mom takes a spoonful and tastes it. She nods. “It’s not terrible.”
That, coming from her mom, is practically singing praises.
Lola barges her way through, peering into the Tupperware. “Hmm. This from the boy?” she asks.
“It is,” says Dalisay.
Lola gives her a knowing wink and takes a spoonful. She doesn’t say anything, but she hums a love song as she heads back to her room.
“Who made the fucked-up leche flan?” Nicole asks, appearing from the bathroom. Her hair is wet, having just gotten out of the shower.
Their mom doesn’t reply. She cuts an untouched slice and puts it into another, smaller Tupperware. “Take this to work tomorrow,” she says, handing it to Nicole. “For Claire. Tell her next time she comes over for lunch, I’ll make her a real one.”
Nicole’s eyes are round as she wordlessly takes the Tupperware. It’s like she can hardly believe her ears. She and Dalisay lock eyes and Dalisay’s heart swells at the hope in her sister’s eyes.
Dalisay takes her portion of Evan’s leche flan to her room. Working from home has been a blessing, but she does miss working in an office. Sure, being remote means she gets to see her family more, the thing that’s always been most important to her, but she misses the buzz of being downtown, of seeing familiar faces … One in particular. Heavily, she drops in her chair at her desk and sighs as she looks at the book-scented candle on the corner of her desk. Evan’s old note leans against it.
Here’s to stories worth telling. —Evan
She’s smiling so much, it makes her cheeks hurt, but she takes a bite of the flan. Her mom was wrong—it’s perfect. Creamy, sweet, delicious. Maybe it tastes even better because of who made it.
The sun breaks through the window, basking her in morning light. Despite the brightness of the day ahead, she lights the candle and gets to work.
“You really think Mom’s coming around?” Nicole asks. She’s out of her scrubs and in her bathrobe, having just gotten home from the hospital earlier that night. She sits on Dalisay’s bed, her knees tucked up to her chest while Dalisay finishes editing an article.
It’s late, and her eyes hurt from looking at a screen all day, but Dalisay finishes typing with a flourish and spins in her chair. “It’s a start, right?”
“It has to mean something,” Nicole says. Her cheeks are pink, and she presses her face between her knees.
“Have you talked to Claire about it?”
Nicole nods. “She understood what it’s like for family to freak out. She told me her parents reacted the same way too …” Her gaze goes distant, then she blinks a few times, as if clearing her thoughts. “And Claire loved the flan, obviously, but the fact that Mom wants her to come over for lunch again? Maybe you’re right, maybe she’s mellowing out.”
“Mom loves you,” Dalisay says. “I think maybe she was in shock at first. You know how obsessed she is about tradition and grandkids.”
Nicole nods slightly. She squeezes her knees tighter to her chest and furrows her brow. “You really think she likes Claire?”
Dalisay nods. “Because you do.”
Nicole buries her face in her knees again, but Dalisay can tell she’s smiling. Dalisay goes to her side, bouncing on the mattress, and leans into her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “Thank you,” Nicole whispers.
“For what?” Dalisay asks.
“For talking to Mom for me,” Nicole says, peeking over her knees.
“You knew?”
Nicole nods. “Daniel blabbed.”
Dalisay smiles. No one can keep any secrets in this family. Nicole wraps her arms around Dalisay too and Dalisay realizes they haven’t hugged like this since their dad died. It’s like nothing has ever changed. And yet everything has changed. But now it’s not so scary anymore.
Dalisay breaks the hug, only because she hears something. “What is that?” she asks. It almost sounds like singing, but Dalisay turned off her headphones, so it’s not coming from her laptop.
“Is that music?” Nicole asks.
“It’s coming from outside,” Dalisay says. She leaves her room, Nicole following behind, and the music is getting louder. When Dalisay goes to the living room window overlooking the driveway, she sees four people dancing in the dark, lit only by the light of the garage.
“The Serenade,” Dalisay says, grinning.
Evan, JM, Yoon-gi, and … Daniel! What? Even he’s in on this?
They dance in a line like backup singers as Evan takes center stage. In the lights from the garage, he belts out to “I’ve Fallen for You,” a song by the Filipina singer Toni Gonzaga. Growing up, it was Dalisay’s favorite song in the world, slow and soulful. Daniel must have told Evan about it; he had to suffer through her playing it on repeat for weeks straight when he was studying for exams. She can’t stop smiling.
They sound pretty good actually.
“They must have practiced a lot,” Nicole says. “At least he doesn’t have to sing in Tagalog.” That makes Dalisay laugh. Nicole had heard about the time when Evan serenaded her at the museum. This time there’s no need for boy band dance moves. Evan’s voice carries through the window, and he locks eyes with her, making her heart pulse through her whole body.
She can’t take it anymore.
At the final chorus, she throws open the window and sings along, throwing her head back and belting to the night sky. He stops dancing to watch her, and she can’t believe how handsome he looks. She’s missed him so much.
The song ends and Dalisay stands at the window breathless.
“Hey,” he says, panting, as the song fades. He beams at her, blushing hard, and Dalisay can’t help but laugh. It’s just like last time, only so much better.
Nicole appears at Dalisay’s side and yells down to them. “What are you doing? It’s late! Don’t you know people are trying to sleep?” She slams the window shut and Dalisay hides her grin behind her hand. She’s overjoyed.
“Should I go down and say hi?” Dalisay asks, breathless.
“No way,” says Nicole, guiding her by the wrist back to her room. “Stay right where you are. Keep those doors locked. This is only the third stage, remember?”
Right, Dalisay thinks, get it together. It’s so hard to stay put; all she wants to do is run down the stairs and throw herself into Evan’s arms. At least now she finally knows how it feels to have fallen really, unbelievably in love.