The Holiday Switch(46)

Guilt slashes through me about my sent application.

I focus on the topic at hand. “It’s fine, Mom. He and I are…good.” Though, as I say it, I consider what our status is. Are we friends? Just coworkers who exchange dozens of messages per day? Conspirators from our shared secrets?

She hangs her apron on the hook next to the pantry door. “I met him once before, you know.”

“You have?” I turn and grab for anything to use as a tool for…something. Snapping a paper towel from the roll, I pretend-wipe up the imaginary spills on the stove.

“When he was a little boy. You were probably twelve? He just turned thirteen. His parents were visiting New York City, and they passed through town to visit Lou. Though that was the last time they visited.”

“What’s up with them anyway?” I ask casually.

“The relationship is quite contentious. It’s sad, really. And it always makes me think of you and Irene. I want the two of you to be close, through the ups and downs. Family is all we have.”

    “I know, Mom.”

“Anyway, he was such a sweet kid back then. Very curious, but shy. But now he has earrings.”

Oh dear, here we go. My parents, in addition to their privacy standards, have somewhat superficial standards when it comes to “proper” grooming and attire. It’s old-fashioned and tiring. I snort. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, of course not. And I’m not bothered.” She sighs. “What can I say, I’m always keeping an eye out. You’re my precious girl. And he’s a college kid. A cute one at that.”

“Okay, you can stop there. I mean, yes, he’s cute but…that’s not everything to me.”

She half laughs. “Well, good. Anyway”—she hikes her hands on her hips—“shower time. We’ll get to know Teddy soon enough on the mic.”

I still. The mic, as in, karaoke. “We’re not doing karaoke tonight…are we?”

Her eyebrows plunge. “It’s part of our tradition. Why is this an issue? You love karaoke.”

“Because there are strangers coming.” What I don’t say is that I’m almost always somehow placed on the spot to sing. Karaoke peer pressure is real. My dad will insist on a duet, like “Islands in the Stream” or “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.” He’ll look at me and offer his hand, and next thing I know I’m doing the snake and thinking I’m Paula Abdul.

“Strangers? Everyone has come to a family party except…” She pauses. “Oh…Oh.”

    “No…no, it’s not an oh. I just don’t feel like singing in front of anyone tonight.”

“But, honey,” she protests.

Redirection is the key. “Shower, Mom. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

It works. She startles. “Ay nako. All right. I’ll be out in about ten. Can you…”

“Run around and pick up? Got it.”

Mom heads down the hallway and climbs the stairs, joining Dad, who’s in charge of making sure the twins are dressed and all the bedrooms are clean, as if people will be partying on the second floor.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Teddy: We’re leaving now. Are you excited?





Lila: Why would I be excited?





Teddy: Because you get to spend more time with me.





Lila: And that is a plus?





Teddy: For someone who likes Christmas books, you sure are a Scrooge.





Lila: For someone who likes nonfiction you sure like to make things up





Teddy: Burn!





I laugh. And despite my denial, the hum zipping through my body is proving that, yes, I am excited.



* * *





It’s not even a half hour into dinner, and Graham and Grant excuse themselves from the table. It’s my cue to stand, because sitting next to Teddy properly extinguished my appetite. The usual ease—and even the casual annoyance—I have with him is nowhere to be found. It’s been replaced by my nerves, which are frayed at the edges. Our texts, the banter, our moment in the climbing gym has created an indescribable energy between us where we can’t seem to look at each other.

What I can’t stop ogling are his arms when he reaches for anything across the table. He’s wearing a preppy long-sleeve button-down over jeans, with the sleeves rolled up. And the cologne he’s wearing? Hello.

“Honey, is everything okay? You’ve barely eaten,” Dad says.

“I, um…” Everyone’s eyes are on me. “I grazed the whole time Mom cooked. I’m going to head to the living room and keep an eye on the twins.”

“Good idea.” Carm stands with her plate. “I’ll join you.”

Frank, Carm’s dad, rolls his eyes. “The kids don’t want to be around us. We’re just not cool anymore.”

“Wait till they’re in college,” Ms. Velasco adds. “They are literally always gone.” She gives Teddy the side-eye.

I hustle away. I can’t be here for this conversation. I know exactly where Teddy has been.