Chapter 10
chapter ten
gabe
Yasmin
Merry Christmas, Gabe
Gabe
Merry Christmas, Ma.
Waving my hand away, Luna scooped another serving of spaghetti onto my plate. “I know, women don’t need to serve men, and we shouldn’t be expected to do that and everything else. But I love feeding people. I did this back home too.”
“Thanks.” The word came out brusquely, and I winced because I hadn’t intended it to. It just felt so strange eating alone with Luna. Before this, the only times we spent alone were when I gave her a ride somewhere, and they never ended well.
She put down her fork. “You know what? Go home, Gabe. You clearly don’t want to be here, and that’s fair. You signed up to drop off the gifts, and that’s already a big deal. I shouldn’t have forced you to stay. I’ll pack your food if you want. No pressure.” Pushing her chair back, she started to stand.
I spoke up quickly. “It’s not that.”
“Really?” She sat back down but remained stiff, her head cocked to the side. “What is it then? Because this wasn’t the vibe I had in mind for Christmas Eve.”
“Don’t you find this weird?”
She gave a short chuckle. “That I have to force someone to eat my cooking? Kind of. It’s definitely a first.”
“I mean that we’re eating here without your sister.”
Her shoulders dropped with the sigh she released. “I just figured it would be nice to have company for a change. I swear I’m not coming on to you or, I don’t know, trying to replace Ate. I could never.”
“I didn’t think that.” However, I couldn’t help but relate to the rest of her words. If I felt Tala’s absence this strongly, how much more did Luna feel it when they had lived together?
“Is it the student thing again? Because unless I’m delusional, I’m not in any of your classes.”
I hid a wince.
“And it’s not like I’m going to go around campus announcing I had dinner with you.”
“I would hope not.”
Luna’s smile pinched at the corners, stopping short of her eyes. “Whatever. Thanks for indulging me. I’ll grab some containers?—”
“Luna.” I spoke quietly. “I’m sorry I acted like an ass.”
“Acted like?” One brow winged up.
I nodded. “Was.”
“Better.” She grabbed her glass and took a sip. Waving the glass in the air, she said, “Go on.”
Despite the bizarre situation, I couldn’t help but chuckle at her response. “Enjoying this, are you?”
“Hell, yeah. It’s not every day I hear you apologizing to me.”
Fair. If I were in her place, I probably wouldn’t have let myself inside her apartment to begin with. “I’m sorry I was an ass. Would you do me the honor of letting me finish having dinner with you?”
“Okay, now I’m not sure whether you actually mean that or you’re just making fun of me.”
“I do. I like your spaghetti.” Because she deserved full honesty, I added, “Even though it doesn’t taste like traditional bolognese.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Of course not. We like to put our own twist on things.”
“It’s definitely unique.”
“I learned it from Lola. She had, like, a mental file of all these amazing recipes she learned from her mom.” Luna’s gaze grew distant, her lips pressing together. “I wrote down the ones she taught me, but they never turn out exactly the same way she did them.”
“Good idea, you writing them down.”
Her eyes met mine, and they held a slight sheen. “We weren’t sure she’d make it the second time around.”
Tala had told me about their grandmother’s battle with breast cancer and how it had recurred two years after she was declared in remission. She’d decided not to restart chemotherapy, and she passed away four months after the cancer was detected.
I knew how much Tala regretted not going home to see their lola one last time. She’d missed out on years with her grandmother, and she carried that loss to this day. Luna, on the other hand, had been there through it all. I could only imagine how difficult it must have been to see her grandmother’s relapse firsthand.
I cleared my throat and wished I knew the right words to say. In the end, I settled on what I hoped was a safe response. “Tala said you were the only one who inherited your lola’s cooking skills.”
She smiled. “That’s probably the only thing I got that my siblings didn’t.”
I’d heard her say something similar before—how Tala had the talent and Alonzo had the brains. Back then, I thought Luna was angling for praise. Now I wondered if she truly believed she was somehow less than her siblings.
Whether it was a case of self-deprecation or middle child syndrome, I had no right to ask.
“I’m glad I got it, though,” she murmured before I could muck things up with the wrong words. “I only wish my spaghetti came close to her original version.”
“Did it also contain sugar and processed food?”
Her laughter made me smile. “Oh, yeah. That’s Pinoy spaghetti for you,” she said. Then she nodded at the baking sheet she’d left covered with foil. “You should try the bibingka.”
“Does that mean I can stay?”
“I guess so. It is Christmas.” She tilted her head. “That reminds me—do you have noche buena in Brazil? The Christmas Eve celebration?”
I picked up my fork and twirled noodles around it. “Yes, but we call it Ceia de Natal. Some families have it after Missa do Gallo?—”
She jerked. “We have that, too! Ours is Misa de Gallo , so only slightly different.”
I nodded, already knowing that from Tala. “We have this stuffed chicken dish that we call a chester, some potato salad, and salpic?o.” Noticing how her eyes widened, I added, “That’s a chicken salad, not the beef dish you might be thinking of.”
Her excitement dimmed. “I guess you’ve already gone over this with Ate.”
“We did celebrate two Christmases together.”
“Then I came along and ruined your tradition.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad she had you here. Nothing beats Christmas with family.” Even as I said it, resentment crept in. It had been over a decade since I’d last celebrated with my family, and I’d long ago convinced myself I didn’t miss that.
Luna chewed on her bottom lip. “Can I ask why you don’t celebrate with yours?”
I lifted my glass and wished it held something stronger than soda. “My mother has her own family in Texas. My father lives with our relatives in Rio.” And I didn’t belong in those places.
Taking a long drink, I braced myself for her reply. Would she say sorry again? Or maybe she’d ask why I didn’t choose to visit either of my parents.
“Well,” she said carefully. “You can crash my party whenever you want.”
My brows rose. “You’re giving me an open invitation?” I asked, relieved she didn’t press the topic of my dysfunctional family.
“As long as you don’t get on my bad side.” Laughing, she stood and walked to the fridge. “You want Moscato?”
“You’re underage.”
Luna paused with one hand on the fridge door. “You’ve seen me drink with Ate. Also, eighteen is the legal drinking age in the Philippines. I’m nineteen, in case you didn’t know.”
“We’re in America,” I said, earning an eye roll from her.
“Ugh. Fine.” She grabbed a pitcher of water instead and closed the fridge. “That doesn’t mean I’m not drinking that wine later,” she told me as she sat in her chair.
So long as it wasn’t under my watch.
Suddenly, she jolted back up. “Be right back,” she called out as she hurried inside her room.
I caught a glimpse of the same lights she’d strewn all over the living area, but this time, they were hanging from her ceiling. For a brief moment, I wondered what her bedroom looked like, and as soon as the thought formed in my mind, I squashed it.
Talk about inappropriate.
This was why I couldn’t drink alcohol with Luna. We were alone in her apartment, and she was nine years younger than me, creating a power dynamic that my job only added to. To some extent, she trusted me because of my friendship with Tala. Even though I didn’t have the slightest inclination to attempt anything with her, I couldn’t risk destroying that trust—both hers and Tala’s.
Was I likely to get drunk and lose control from one bottle of sweet wine? No. But I would rather avoid any possibility of it happening.
Luna returned to the kitchen carrying a square white box. “Sorry this isn’t wrapped. I was supposed to give it to you after my trip, but since you annoyed me . . .” Her sentence ended with a shrug. “Anyway, I just remembered it and thought I should give it to you while you’re here.”
Sitting down, she passed the box to me across the table, and I stared at it for a second before taking it.
“I remembered you telling Ate what you were drinking last Christmas. Cachaca, right?” she said, pronouncing it as kuh-sha-kah instead of kuh-sha-sah .
I’d mentioned it in passing to Tala when we exchanged gifts. I didn’t even realize Luna had been paying attention.
“Cachaca,” I corrected her automatically.
She tried again and got it right. “I looked it up and saw you can drink it as a cocktail or neat. I guessed you don’t really do mixed drinks.”
“You’re right.”
“Called it! I tried to find one that I thought you would like. I mean, we don’t really know each other, so I based it off your vibe. I asked Ate, too, and she agreed with my pick.”
I turned the box over in my hands.
“This is the part where you open it.”
Looking up at her, I noted the nervous twist of her mouth. It mattered to her that I liked her gift.
There was a strange thickness in my voice as I spoke. “Thank you.”
She tsked. “That’s not how it works. First, you open the gift. Then you say thank you.”
“I’m grateful no matter what it is.” It was the thought that counted. The rest were simply details.
I peeled off the sticker sealing the box and lifted the flap. The item inside was wrapped in packing paper, but I could already tell what it was.
Feeling her eyes on me, I carefully removed the wrapping and found what I expected.
A rocks glass.
Unlike the set I owned, it didn’t have fancy edges. Instead, it was etched with a series of numbers. “A pi theorem rocks glass?”
Her grin came fast and bright. “Yes! I know it’s not directly related to finance, but it was the closest I could find.”
“I like it,” I murmured as I ran my fingers through the brief indentations.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She exhaled. “Good. I wasn’t sure you would. I spent my own money, too—part of my first paycheck. So you don’t have to worry that I mooched from Ate.”
I wanted to protest that I’d never said that, but I’d implied it multiple times, and we both knew it. Guilt curdled in my stomach.
“It’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for booking my flights.” She ducked her head so her hair hid the left side of her face. “I know you didn’t do it for me, but I had the best time with Ate in Santa Mila, and it wouldn’t have happened without you.”
“You don’t need to give me anything.”
“We don’t really need to give gifts. That’s what makes them special.”
When I got home, I took out the glass and placed it on the shelf above my desk so I wouldn’t risk damaging it. As I stared at the glass with its endless sequence of numbers, I realized that, for someone who shouldn’t know me that well, Luna had gotten me a gift that was perfectly tailored to me. And somehow, she’d also given me one of the best Christmases I’d had in a while.
Who would have thought?