Chapter 19
My mom always says that I’m great at compartmentalization.
I still don’t know if this is a compliment or an insult, but tonight, it feels like the only option for communicating with my mother.
I can’t get too deep down the rabbit hole of whether I’ll go with her on “Friday,” because then we might not make it through tonight.
I need my head in the game, to focus and prioritize, and I don’t multitask well (as evidenced yesterday).
Which is why I pull out my phone just before we start walking away from the bakery and fire off a message to Naomi without overthinking. I need to get the message to her ASAP. I can’t risk that she’ll get off early and write back right away—or worse, call me.
Hey sorry but my phone is about to die. (I know, I’m the worst!) Staying at Diya’s tonight. See you at the Bazaar!
And… if she does, I’m going to do my best to put it in one of those compartments and not open it. It won’t do any good now, anyway. I still haven’t made a decision. I’m not sure if today’s events will make a difference, but I haven’t had a chance to process them either way.
I hit send and fall in line. We follow Audra away from the bakery, trundling along in the accumulating powder like the puppies in 101 Dalmatians fleeing Cruella’s estate as hipsters in fingerless gloves play games of snowball catch.
Young dads wearing cooler versions of the caps we have at Cooper are dragging sleds behind them, giving their miniature Brooklynites a ride.
Restaurants are brimming with people taking advantage of blizzard dinner specials advertised on sandwich boards with quippy lines.
It’s the kind of thing I should be filming, the holiday spirit cutting through even the most chaotic storm.
But whether it’s having to think about Naomi and Michelle or that I just used up the last burst of optimism by trying to rally everyone—or maybe I’m just straight-up hangry—I’m getting kind of irritable.
Earlier today, it seemed like everywhere I looked with a wide lens I saw magic, but found misery when I zoomed in.
Now, with the rest of the world oblivious to our catastrophe and awash in holiday cheer, it’s easier to see how people become annoyed during the season, when they can’t share in the lightness of others, because their own world feels heavy and dark.
But even though I’m feeling like the burnt-out bulb in a string of twinkle lights, my subconscious won’t stop soundtracking my thoughts with holiday classics.
At the moment, “Joy to the World” starts playing on a loop in my head—which feels ironic.
Then a minute later I realize that Diya is humming it too.
“Whooooa,” I say, brightening at the mind meld. “That song just started on my mental playlist!! How are you in my head?”
“No, B.” She glares at me like I’ve finally gone nutty. She points a finger to the sky, and I realize the song is actually playing somewhere close by. And just as I’m making the connection, we approach the now familiar turn onto Court Street and Cash sticks his nose in the air, sniffing deeply.
“What is it, boy?” Izaac probes, and scratches behind Cash’s ear.
“Something… grilling?” he answers.
“No,” Diya says, turning her own nose up into the air. “It’s tree sap! Don’t you smell the pine?”
“Maybe it’s both,” I say, pointing to a man walking past us, carrying a netted tree over his shoulder, and a bag in the other hand, steam coming from foil packages inside.
We all pick up the pace, and as we turn the corner, the aromas of roasting and sharp smoke intensify.
It smells like a summer barbecue skating on crisp winter air.
And the music, now loud and unmuffled, echoes off the buildings from portable speakers at the lot entrance that has just come into view.
There are strings of twinkling lights and familiar rows of picture-perfect Christmas trees everywhere, but it feels more like a block party than a place for transactions. Joy to the world indeed.
In the lot, there are so many people: families, couples, and singles, all scouring for their own Marleys. And on the street in front is a food truck that reads Tía Antonia’s Tacos , with a long table set up in front. Above the windshield is a sign posted that says:
Annual Trees & Tamales Bash! Get 10% off your food order with a tree purchase—’til we run out!
I watch people walk away with their food and am mesmerized by how cool this all is. I’ve never seen anything like it. It doesn’t erase the very major problem we have to face, but it’s enough to make me reach for my camera again.
How rad would it be for Cooper to do something like this?
I could totally pitch the idea to old man Cooper for next year—even with the bittersweet thought that I won’t be an employee of the farm to be a part of it.
But then it hits me.
Tamales and trees .
Carlos and Tía .
Brooklyn .
All the crumbs of my heart are vibrating in my chest now, as if it’s trying to mend itself, like it knows something big is coming and it had better get it together. It’s blind hope, not scripted. I have no lines to run, no formula to follow. But somehow, I just know.
And sure enough, the line moves until I can see that there, taking payments with her phone behind the table and wearing a red puffer jacket and hoop earrings, is the girl of my literal dreams.
Eve.
I lower my camera. For the first beat I lose my breath entirely.
There’s no mistaking those eyes, or the way they glitter when she thanks customers.
In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve already wondered if her eyelashes could be as long as I remember.
If her hair could be as wild and sexy. If her smile could be as mysterious and captivating.
But seeing Eve now, at home and in her element, it’s official: My memory has not even remotely done her justice.
The sparkles are all there just the same, lighting up the core of me. And there must be cartoon hearts in my eyes and floating around my head, because Diya comes up beside me and follows my gaze. “Um, I may be crazy, but isn’t that…,” she begins.
“Holy snowpeople. Is that—is that her?” Cash asks when he catches on too, then he answers himself. “It is ! It’s definitely her!”
He’s shaking my shoulder now and performing some unhinged little hop that gets Izaac’s attention.
“Wait a second,” Izaac says, tuning in. “ Her? You mean… Holy shit, Bosley, did we just stumble upon your girlfriend in a random parking lot?”
Audra punches Izaac in the arm.
“Um, ow! What the…?”
“I’m sorry—I’m excited too! Is it true?” she asks no one in particular.
“That’s definitely her,” Diya confirms.
“Oh, she is a snack.” Izaac waggles his eyebrows at me and throws an arm around his sister.
As all this chatter is going on among my friends, the voices inside my head are waging an internal battle: Is this actually possible? But of course it is! This is what I’ve always believed. That Christmas makes the impossible possible, even if like Johnna said, it’s not exactly how you planned it.
I finally exhale so I don’t pass out. But my friends are staring at me now and I am seven kinds of self-conscious.
All the adrenaline-fueled confidence I had after our journey with Johnna evaporated when I thought this was all over.
I could still hide, or straight-up bolt.
I can still get out of this crazy day with a shred of dignity.
But no. I came here to do more than have my first kiss. I came to collect evidence—for my friends, and for Eve, but for my own purpose too—and here it is, presenting itself to us loud and clear.
The looks on my friends’ faces right now suggest that my mission is nearly accomplished. I just have to see it through.
“You got this, B.” Izaac nudges me. “We’ll be right here.”
“For your HEA!” Cash says.
“For your research,” Diya adds.
“And for love, actually.” Audra winks at me.
I use their words to steady myself, inhale the cold Brooklyn air, and take a step forward.