The Holiday Switch

by Tif Marcelo

  “Worse than that last night we worked together. So busy that no one can see the arrows on the ground. At one point, the line wrapped around the back of the store. And someone started humming the theme song and everyone joined in. It’s a whole other level of fandom.”

  I laugh. “Well, I know something that might make you feel better.”

  “Yes. Anything, please.”

  I get on my tiptoes and kiss him. I mean for it to be chaste and silly. But he tastes like chocolate, and I go in for another kiss, and another one. His hands grip my waist, and I pull him down to me, because I can’t get enough of his lips on mine.

  I hear the sound of jingle bells but I push it away. Then a second set of jingle bells chime, and Teddy looks up and turns his head toward the door. As we break contact, I slacken.

  “It’s almost time for the panel. I’m assigned to help manage the crowd. You shouldn’t be late.” He grins, then kisses me on the nose. “Meet me at the pier afterward?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll walk out first. Give it a couple of seconds before you do.” He opens the door; then with a wink, he shoots down the hallway.

  I’m not sure that even the panel can top that.

  * * *

  I have stars in my eyes throughout the panel event. Despite sitting too far away, I’m swept up watching these two beloved actors recount their experience working on the film. Mom and I hold hands the whole time when she’s not taking pictures—we’re both that amped and excited.

  Jonah Johanson is not such a heartthrob in real life—Teddy’s right, he’s more like a dad—but he’s still charming and can elicit a giggle from the crowd. He knows how to work it.

  But Remy Castillo is a star. Her presence is commanding, and in a weird way, she reminds me of Mom—no-nonsense but quick to laughter.

  After the panel, Mom hangs by the exit, showing me the fangirl, or perhaps the stalker, she really is. A few minutes later, Ms. Velasco exits with Kira. And…

  Holy Heat Miser. It’s them.

  “That was absolutely fantastic,” says Jonah Johanson. The timbre of his voice sends fangirl shivers up my spine. I take it back—up close, I can see Leo. He exudes confidence. With his salt-and-pepper hair and both hands hiked up on his hips, he brings me right back to the film, to the moment where his younger self stands up to a bully who happened to be picking on the younger Estelle.

  And next to him is Remy herself.

  Standing an inch or two taller than me, the connection is instant—er, at least on my end. And while wrinkles crinkle the sides of her eyes and mouth, she’s just as pretty. Jonah pales next to Remy. It’s already a once-in-a-lifetime moment, meeting a film star, and the fact that she’s one of only a handful of Filipino American actors on the big screen is overwhelming.

  It’s like you don’t know what you’re missing until you get it.

  “Oh, this is perfect,” Ms. Velasco says. “Remy and Jonah, this is my best friend Cat and her daughter Lila. Ladies, unfortunately we can’t hang out for too long. It’s time for a quick break for them before the countdown and fireworks.”

  My super fangirl status emerges in what surely looks like a manic grin. And yet, the only thing that leaves my mouth is, “Hi.”

  Apparently I’ve lost the ability to form words, because when Remy says something indiscernible—I only know that her lips are moving and what is that shade of red because it’s perfect for her skin, never mind I don’t wear red lipstick—I answer with, “Uh-huh.”

  There’s a little more small talk between Mom, Ms. Velasco, Kira, and the actors, but my brain descends into a fog.

  “This was so much fun,” Mom says to me after Ms. Velasco leads the stars to their break room. “I’m going to be on cloud nine for days. To have them here makes the movie come alive.”

  Teddy comes to mind. He’s going to freak when I tell him what just happened. “Mom, I have some friends I want to say hi to. Can I—”

  “Oh, no worries, Iha. Go see them while I grab a drink and catch up with Lou. I’ll look for you closer to midnight.”

  It takes what feels like a herculean effort to weave through the crowd, and the chilly air outside is sweet relief. I shoot a quick text to Carm: I met them!

  Carm isn’t a fan of Holiday by the Lake, but she sends me three rows of random emojis and exclamation points.

  Then I take the short, de-iced path to the pier. Teddy is already there.

  And he’s laughing at me.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got this wild look on your face. You must have met them.”

  “I did!” I do a little dance, right into his arms, and breathe him in. Somehow, I’m not a bit cold. “It was amazing.” I squeal one more time, and he laughs.

  “Hey, so…I got you a present.” The rumble of his voice against my skin makes me tremble.

  A present?

  “But I don’t have a present for you,” I manage to say.

  “I didn’t do it so we’d have a gift exchange,” he whispers. “After you climbed the other day, I just thought…It’s something small.” He straightens and pulls a wrapped rectangular box from his back pocket.

  “Thank you.” I accept the gift, then peel the wrapping paper off, revealing a craft box. I open it to find a thin, light brown leather bookmark with a tassel. On one side, embossed, is my name. “Oh, Teddy.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I do. It’s so pretty.” I run a finger over the embossed area, the letters distinct. “Is this from—”

  “Holly Paperie. But the embossing was done by Blizzard Bags. They were nice enough to do it for me last minute. It’s to say thank you, for listening. It means a lot to me.”

  The thought and care—it’s overwhelming. So I just squeeze him tight against me. “You got me that one time, so it only makes sense that I’ve got you too.”

  “Belay,” he whispers, understanding my reference. He lifts my chin with a finger, and with a heartfelt expression, kisses me. “Happy New Year. And guess what?”

  I’m basking in this moment, in what will become one of the most memorable nights of my life. “What?”

  “We’re currently doing the number one thing on the Mission: Holly list.”

  Kiss on the Bookworm Inn Pier. “Oh my God. You’re right!”

  He peers at me. “Think Carm will be pissed?”

  “Nope. I bet she wants to experience this one with someone else.”

  We fall into silence, and it’s as if he’s run out of steam. I study his face and realize he looks exhausted. “You okay?”

  “Not really…I just got off the phone with my parents. It was supposed to be a simple New Year’s Eve phone call that turned into them harping on me about school. They gave me a guilt trip for not spending the holiday with them. And I guess they checked my registration at Syracuse, and they know…”

  “Oh, shoot.”

  “Yeah…I’m deep in it.”

  “Did you tell them about your competition in a few days?”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t. I wanted to tell Tita Lou first, which I was going to do today. But I didn’t gauge how busy it was going to be around here.”

  “You can tell her after the fireworks. It’s a good way to start the new year.”

  He nods solemnly. “How about you? Have you decided what to do about the internship?”

  I shake my head.

  “Did you respond back to schedule the interview?”

  “No.” I look away. “I know, I know. What’s an interview? But it feels so big. What’s the point of going through with the interview if I’m not going to do it at all?”

  He catches my gaze. His hands rest gently on my shoulders. “It’s okay to be scared.”

  “It’s not fear. It’s uncertainty.”

  But as I say the w
ords, I wonder. Am I scared? And why? This isn’t like climbing up a wall. There’s no risk of falling or getting a concussion. But somehow the potential for getting hurt still feels real.

  “I’ll figure things out. Soon. But tonight,” I remind him, resting my hands on his chest. He pulls me closer to him. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

  “All right.” He presses a kiss on my nose, then inhales deeply. “Lila, I also have to tell you something.”

  There’s a crack in his voice, and I look up to his troubled expression. “Hmm?”

  “Teddy? Lila?” A woman’s voice interrupts us, and we look up to Ms. Velasco approaching us, with Mom at her side. “I wanted us to be together for the fireworks. But I guess the two of you got the memo already.”

  And while Ms. Velasco is grinning, Mom is not. Her expression is stone-cold.

  Teddy steps back, but we keep our hands clasped.

  “Lila. What are you doing?” Mom’s interrogative gaze slides from me to Ms. Velasco. “Did you know about this?”

  “I had no idea.” At Mom’s silence, Ms. Velasco frowns. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not serious.”

  Whoa. Teddy and I aren’t serious, but hearing it like that takes me aback.

  “I hope not,” Mom replies. “Teddy’s…well…and Lila…”

  Ms. Velasco half laughs. “What about Teddy?”

  “First of all, he’s in college. And second, he’s everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?” Teddy asks, eyebrows plunging in concern.

  “Now, Cat, you’re out of line,” Ms. Velasco warns.

  “You said so yourself, Lou. You can’t keep him in check. You don’t know where he is half the time, and Lila…she’s in high school.”

  “Hello?” I lift a hand. “We’re right here.”

  “I’ll have you know that Teddy’s the one who’s been encouraging her to apply for that internship.”

  “What internship?” Mom frowns.

  “Mom.” I raise my voice, though I’m looking at Teddy with one question running through my head: How does Ms. Velasco know about the internship?

  “For that book review site,” Ms. Velasco continues. “I had no idea she had this amazing blog. I took a read myself, and I’m so impressed. Tinsel and Tropes. How clever.”

  “Tita Lou,” Teddy jumps in, at the same time my mother turns to me incredulously. Teddy continues. “Lila, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m Santa with a View.”

  I reel back. “Santa with a View? You sent me the link?”

  “I did.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” This is all too much at once.

  “It was before we were…and I thought you wouldn’t have applied if you knew that I was the one who sent it.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t even care about that. What I can’t believe is that you told her,” I whisper.

  “I…It just came out,” he says.

  “Lila?” Mom asks.

  I glance up at Ms. Velasco, then at Teddy, and then at my mother, whose confusion is evident on her face. Anger and disappointment swirl inside me. It rises up like the drift during a snowstorm, just as someone announces the five-minute countdown to midnight.

  My mother excuses herself from our circle. At her departure, anger wins out. I kept my side of the bargain. Teddy didn’t.

  “If you’re spilling my secrets, then maybe you should spill yours too, Teddy,” I say. “You should ask him about where else he’s been spending his time, Ms. Velasco.”

  I pull my hand from Teddy’s grasp and take off after my mom.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 1

  I spend the first minute of the new year in our minivan with my mother, with fireworks lighting up the sky behind us, the popping noises resonating in the space even though the windows are rolled up tight. But it doesn’t drown out the somber mood. My teeth are still chattering, more from nervousness rather than the chill.

  After the fireworks, Mom finally speaks. “What’s that about, Lila? What does she mean, blog?”

  “It’s a book blog.”

  “Okay?” She crosses her arms.

  So I explain. I go back to the beginning, when I started it, how it’s almost two years old, that it’s something I truly enjoy. I explain Teddy’s role in the internship, and how I both do and don’t want a chance at it.

  I know I’m in trouble because of the silence. My mother is usually anything but speechless.

  She stares out the front windshield. “Why did you keep it a secret from us?”

  “Because I knew you would react this way. You don’t like social media at all, and I knew you and Dad wouldn’t understand.”

  “And yet you did it anyway.”

  “I did. I love my blog, Mom.”

  Mom sighs. “Do you know what’s sad about all of this? I didn’t get to share this love with you. You made so many assumptions, Lila. You thought that Dad and I wouldn’t change our minds. You thought that we couldn’t be bothered with what you love. You thought that we wouldn’t be sensitive to what you needed. All this time, I thought bio was what you loved. Are you changing your mind there too? Is writing what you want to do?”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “That’s not it. But I don’t know what’s going on here, Lila. I feel like I’m suddenly looking at a different person.”

  I cringe. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do—because of everything you’ve said thus far. What am I supposed to do with that? And this thing with Teddy. What is that?”

  “That thing with Teddy is—was—new. And sweet. And I like him.”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  I feel my temper rising, and suddenly I can’t shove it down any longer. “You assume things about me too. You assume that I know exactly what I want. You assume that I will always rise to whatever expectations you’ve set for me. You assume that things are going fine, when maybe I want different. When I have been confused about choosing between something I really love and something I know will be practical. When I’ve been worried about doing enough so I don’t burden you and Dad. Why do you think I’m trying to pick up so many hours? I want to do the right thing, but sometimes I don’t know what that is. So it’s not just me who assumes. It’s you too.”

  My mother’s eyes glass over, but she blinks away her tears in the next second. She opens her mouth to say one more thing, then stops herself. Instead she starts the car, and we head home.

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 2

  For the second night in a row, I toss and turn. And when I finally decide to get up, I check my phone, Teddy’s texts fill my screen, with various versions of I’m sorry. I’m sorry, too, but I’m still filled with anger and regret. And I don’t know what to do about it.

  What a mess. My heart hurts from my conversation with Mom, and the conversation that Teddy and I aren’t having.

  If the first day of the new year was an indication of how the rest of the year is going to go, then I might as well phone it in now.

  I groan, covering my face with a pillow.

  The sound of a creaking door takes me out of my head. I peek to the side of my pillow and see Irene’s face, contorted in worry. She has my old laptop open. “Ate Lila?”

  “Yes.” My voice croaks.

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes round into saucers. “This is a first.”

  I groan again. It’s bad enough to have disappointed my mom, but now I’m failing my sister too. I have a reputation to protect. Ates are supposed to be indestructible, and here I am, falling apart. “Let me give you some advice, Irene. There’s no such thing as secrets. Because they always reveal themselves.”

  “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip, and she goes silent.

  It’s curious.

  “What. What ‘o
h’?” I finally ask.

  “Oh, then I might as well tell you that I looked through your emails. The notifications kept popping up, you know?”

  I slide the pillow off my face and push away the strands of hair that imprinted themselves on my cheeks. “You read my emails.”

  “And everything. Tinsel and Tropes. It’s so good.”

  I should be horrified, but I can’t muster the energy. Instead, I smile. “Yeah?”

  “And I think you should get dressed. From the top up, anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Well…I kinda made an appointment for your interview.”

  I sit up. “You what?”

  “You wouldn’t email them back, and the lady sounded so convincing. Today was the last day. Anyway, it was really easy. I just clicked on the link that took me to their calendar and I put your name in. So”—she glances at the laptop clock—“you have, like, seventeen minutes.”

  “Irene.” I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose. “Are you telling me—”

  “That I’m way more observant than you think? I’m an ate too, you know.” She pulls me out of bed. “Now you have sixteen minutes. And I have the most perfect outfit for you.”

  * * *

  Sometimes it takes a snowstorm to bring two people together, but sometimes it takes one person—and someone you least expect—to help save the day.

  The face looking back at me from my dresser mirror is a little more put together than how I actually feel inside. Mirror Lila has her hair combed and braided down one shoulder. Her cheeks are pink from blush, eyes lined with liner. Her lips shimmer with a red gloss that’s supposed to show up well on video chat.

  Or, Irene says so anyway.

  From behind me, and looking straight at my reflection, she says, “Whatcha think?”

  And honestly if I didn’t have makeup on, I would have cried. Because I needed this. “Thank you.”

  “Eh.” She shrugs, like it’s nothing. “So, you’ve literally got three minutes.” She’s scrambling around me. She fluffs my blankets straight, lines up the pillows, then brings my laptop to my desk. Then, changing her mind, she stacks four of my books and then props the laptop on top of it. “Is that high enough? You need good angles and light.”