The Tori Trilogy

by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

  As for their sons, my cousins Michael and Jeff are seventeen-year-old identical twins, medium-height with brown hair and an olive complexion similar to that of my brothers’ and mine. Michael is the jock, his hair kept short, his arms taught with muscles. He plays at least three high-school sports and hopes to get to college on a football scholarship. Jeff is the musician, the serious one. He wears his hair in a longish, angular cut that sweeps below his eyes, and plays piano and guitar in some weird indie band started by one of his friends.

  In greeting, Michael picks me up with a loud war whoop and thumps me on the back. “Merry Christmas, Cuz!” he hollers. Very typical.

  Jeff shakes the hair out of his eyes and gives me a loose one-sided hug. Also very typical. Then they both head off with Nate, Ben, and Joey to talk about whatever it is that guys talk about when they’re together.

  Abuelita slips an arm across my back. “Feliz Noche Buena, nieta preciosa (Merry Christmas Eve, precious granddaughter),” she says. “Come to the kitchen and see what I have prepared.” She leads me down the short hall to the kitchen, where she sets a covered casserole dish on the counter and removes the lid.

  I peek inside, delighted to find papas a la huancaina, a traditional Peruvian side dish consisting of boiled, sliced potatoes covered in a thick, spicy cheese sauce and garnished by fat purple olives and slivers of hardboiled egg. Except for the olives and eggs, I’m a big fan, and my grandmother knows it.

  “Oh, gracias, Abuelita!” I cry, throwing my arms around her. “I was hoping you’d bring it!”

  She smiles. “I have brought tamales, empanadas, and beet salad, as well.”

  My mouth falls open. “That’s a lot of food!”

  From behind us, Abuelito laughs. “There is more,” he announces, settling Abuelita’s stainless steel chocolate pot on the kitchen table next to a bulging paper grocery bag. “Chocolate caliente, panettone, y bomboncitos del Perú (Hot chocolate, panettone, and candies from Peru).”

  “Oh!” I exclaim, pushing past him to view the contents of the bag. “Did our relatives in Lima send us candy again?”

  “Sí (Yes), Victoria.” My grandfather’s face creases with a smile.

  I happily discover a long tin of gourmet Peruvian truffles, a box of Peruvian candy bars known as Princesa, and a package of my all-time favorite Peruvian cookies, Doña Pepa, which taste like chocolate-covered graham crackers rolled in sprinkles. “Can I put these with the Christmas cookies?” I ask excitedly.

  My grandparents laugh. “Of course, my Tori,” says Abuelita.

  I hug myself. “Oh, Abuelita, Abuelito!” I cry. “Don’t you just love Christmas Eve?”

  A faraway look fills my grandmother’s eyes. “It is the best night of the year,” she says.

  I know Abuelita is remembering celebrations of Noche Buena back in Lima. The South American Christmas Eve is a much bigger deal than Christmas Day. Families gather late at night to enjoy elaborate turkey dinners, much like Thanksgiving feasts in the States, with panettone and hot chocolate for dessert. At midnight there are champagne toasts, and the color and glitter and crackle of fireworks light the night sky.

  Because December in the Southern Hemisphere is the beginning of summer, patio doors are thrown wide, and families rush into courtyards to watch the displays. Afterwards, children open their Christmas presents and go off to bed, leaving the adults to enjoy an all-night party full of dancing and fun. By the time everybody settles down, it is around six o’clock in the morning, so they sleep in late the next day.

  I’ve never spent a Christmas in Lima, but Dad and his siblings did a few times when they were growing up. Although the celebration sounds exciting, I think it would be anticlimactic to wake up on Christmas morning with no stockings to unstuff, no presents to open, and no family to visit. Here in Forest Grove, we have the best of both worlds: a big celebration on Christmas Eve, presents on Christmas morning, and another family gathering at Auntie Luz and Uncle Gabe’s on Christmas afternoon.

  The only thing that would make this holiday more perfect would be the arrival of Andrew and Stephanie’s baby. I tell Abuelita so.

  She smoothes my hair, her comforting, grandmotherly way. “Have patience, Victoria,” she tells me. “If the baby were here now, Andrew and Stephanie might not be able to spend Christmas Eve with us, and then the whole family would not be together.”

  I bite my lip. I hadn’t thought of that.

  A few minutes later, when my brother and sister-in-law arrive, I feel grateful for once that they aren’t at the hospital. I would miss them too much. But still, if the baby had been born Monday, as it was supposed to be, Andrew and Stephanie might have been able to come...and bring my new niece with them!

  “Why the long face?” Stephanie asks, giving me a hug.

  “Long face?” I echo. “Oh, I guess I was just thinking.” I smile at her. “Are you glad you’re spending Christmas Eve with us?”

  “Of course I’m glad!” She laughs. “As ready as I am for this baby to be born, I’ll have to admit, it would be a little gloomy spending Christmas Eve in a sterile hospital room.”

  “What are you guys doing tomorrow?” I ask, turning to hug Andrew.

  “Spending the day with Steph’s family,” he answers. I notice that he and Stephanie exchange a look.

  But I don’t have time to wonder about it.

  Mom calls everyone into the candlelit dining room, where Abuelito says a beautiful blessing, thanking God that the entire Salinas family is able to spend Christmas together. Then we move through a buffet line, filling Mom’s best china plates with delicious food. At the end of the line, I ladle punch into a crystal glass, pick up a Christmas-tree-shaped napkin (everyone liked them so much the other night that Mom asked me to origami-fold them again, this time on high-quality, cranberry-red dinner napkins), and find a seat at the table between Gina and Joy.

  “How do you like my makeup?” Gina asks, tilting her face to the light. She, too, is wearing Bella’s pale-gold eye shadow, sparkly body shimmer, bronze blusher, and frosted-pink lip gloss.

  “You look beautiful!” Joy says.

  “We all look beautiful,” I add. “Bella’s a pro.”

  Gina smiles meaningfully at me over the top of Joy’s head. The gleam in her eyes seems to say, “I told you you’d like having houseguests!”

  I wink back, letting her know she was right.

  After dinner, we relax fireside in the living room. Abuelita serves her hot chocolate with generous, fluffy wedges of panettone, and Mom announces that she and Dad and Aunt Leilani have spread the dining-room table with Christmas cookies, brownies, chocolate-dipped pretzels, candied pecans, and Peruvian chocolates. There is a coffee bar set up on the sideboard for the adults, complete with sugar, half-and-half, and two flavors of Christmas creamer.

  The atmosphere in our house is the coziest and happiest that I can remember. At one point, Jeff sits at the piano and starts to play Christmas carols from memory. Before long, we’ve all joined in, singing from the bottom of our hearts. Auntie Crista’s strong voice soars above the rest.

  We sing “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bells” and “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” and “Joy to the World” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Then Abuelito shouts out, “’Feliz Navidad!’” and breaks into that old Christmas song by José Feliciano. Auntie Crista joins him, harmonizing perfectly.

  Jeff plays with energy, his fingers flying over the piano keys, and I wonder if there is a single piece of music he doesn’t know.

  “Go, Abuelito!” hollers Joey. “Go, Auntie Crista!”

  One by one, the rest of us join in, until the house is filled to the brim with the joyful noise of our voices: “Feliz Navidad, prospero año, y felicidad (Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and happiness)!”

  From there, we go on to sing at least a dozen more carols, both in English and Spanish. Andrew cuddles with Stephanie on the couch. Dad laces one arm around Mom and the other around me. Uncle Javi moves his fingers gent
ly through Aunt Leilani’s long hair, turning every now and then to kiss her lips. Joy and Ethan snuggle against their parents. Uncle Gabe and Auntie Luz hold hands. Abuelito hugs Gina. Abuelita bounces Sofie on her lap. Uncle Kevin massages Auntie Crista’s shoulders, and Auntie Crista gives Bella’s arm a loving squeeze. Nate, Ben, Joey, and Michael sprawl across the carpet, man-slugging each other and laughing as we sing.

  By the time we’ve finished, our voices are scratchy and hoarse, and the very youngest members of the family, Ethan and Sofie, are visibly tired. We decide it’s time to open presents. Although the majority of our gifts are opened on Christmas Day, Abuelita and Abuelito insist on giving to us on Christmas Eve instead. The tradition is an exciting taste of presents-yet-to-come!

  Ethan opens first. “A dinosaur play set!” he screams. “I wanted this! Abuelita, Abuelito, I wanted this! Thank you!” He jumps up and runs to hug our grandparents.

  Uncle Javi winks at him. “Pretty cool, sport,” he says.

  Then it’s Sofie’s turn, although she’s half-asleep in Abuelita’s lap by now. Auntie Luz helps her unwrap an adorable baby doll in a soft pink onesie.

  That makes me think of my angel ornament from Jaine. I glance at it, swaying ever so slightly on the glittering Christmas tree. Then I look at Andrew and Stephanie and smile. As if guessing my thoughts, they smile back.

  Joy opens an elaborate jewelry-making set.

  Gina opens the lava lamps she’s been wanting for her bedroom since last summer.

  Then it’s my turn. I open the professional stage make-up kit I’ve been wanting forever! Despite my hoarse throat, I scream louder than Ethan. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, muchas gracias!” I explode, flinging myself at my grandparents. “Now I’ll be a totally legit acting student when I start those classes next month!”

  Abuelito and Abuelita laugh affectionately, and Mom says, “Tori, calm down!”

  Nate guffaws. “What ten-year-old wears stage makeup to park-district acting classes?”

  I ignore him. I also ignore all the rest of the gifts that everybody else opens, because I am so ecstatically happy with my own.

  And, then, finally, Christmas Eve has wound to an end. It’s after ten o’clock, and Ethan and Sofie especially are in desperate need of bedtime. Stephanie looks exhausted, shifting her weight to Andrew as he helps her off the couch. She leans her head on his shoulder and yawns.

  Dad brings her coat over and helps her put it on. “Get some rest tonight, mommy-to-be,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

  “I hope to!” Stephanie replies. Again, she glances quickly at Andrew.

  As we crowd outside, spilling over the porch and seeing our family off, Joy suddenly jumps and jerks her finger toward the deep night sky. “Look!” she exclaims. “It’s snowing!”

  Unused to an outburst from Joy, everyone stops talking at once. We tilt back our heads and look up in wonderment. Soft, white feather-flakes float down from the heavens, collecting on the bare trees and the dead grass and even the railings of the porch.

  Happiness and hope and a rush of wonderful, mysterious emotions that only comes this time of year flood through me. “It’s snowing!” I repeat. I grab Gina and Joy, and we dance around the porch. “It’s snowing! It’s really, really snowing!”

  Bella snags us and joins in. “Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas, after all,” she says.

  Chapter Nine

  As soon as our guests have gone, we Salinas kids hang stockings by the fireplace. Nate, Ben, Joey, and I have had matching ones as long as I can remember, snowmen against a dark, starry background, with our names embroidered on the crisp white cuffs. Aunt Leilani packed Bella, Joy, and Ethan’s stockings, which they dangle next to ours.

  Stepping back to admire the mantelpiece, Ethan asks, “How will Santa know we’re here? What if he thinks we’re on Kauai this year, with Gramma and Granpa and Tutu Malia?”

  “No worries, sport,” says Uncle Javi. “Santa Claus is one pretty smart dude.”

  “Besides,” adds Mom, “once he gets down the chimney, he’ll see your name on your stocking.”

  “That’s right, sweet love,” Aunt Leilani assures her son. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think Santa would really enjoy a couple of those chocolate-covered pretzels you helped make.”

  “Yeah!” shrieks Ethan. He makes a mad dash for the kitchen, where leftover Christmas treats overflow the countertops.

  After saying goodnight to our parents, Joy and I change into our p.j.’s and snuggle beneath our covers. I am happy to find Ebony curled between my pillow and the headboard of my bed, another favorite hiding place of hers. I pull her out and cradle her against me, letting her warmth seep through my pajama top. It sure is cold out, and Ebony is like a little radiator.

  But she won’t have any of that. She squirms and wriggles away, shoots me a “Hello, I’m nocturnal! How dare you try to take me to bed with you?” look, and struts beneath my desk.

  “Ebony-zer Scrooge!” I call after her.

  Joy, who by now is used to my sarcastic, one-sided cat conversations, giggles. “You know she loves you, Tori.”

  “I’m starting to forget,” I snort, clicking off the lamp.

  My cousin shifts on the roll-away bed. “I miss my dogs,” she remarks.

  “Are they at a kennel?” I ask.

  “No,” Joy replies. “Actually, they’re staying at my best friend Tiffany’s house. They’ve got a dog, too, and Mrs. Ericson never minds pet-sitting.”

  “That’s convenient,” I say.

  “Yeah....” Joy’s voice trails. “She reminds me of you, Tori,” she says at length.

  “Who? Mrs. Ericson?”

  “No!” Joy giggles again. “Tiffany. She’s so confident and spunky and outgoing, like you are. I think you’d really like each other.”

  “Probably,” I agree. “Have you known her a long time?”

  “Since we were three. We went to preschool together.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.” Joy rustles her sheets. “I admire outgoing people,” she announces suddenly. “That must be why I admire you so much, Tori. I’m--I’m glad we became friends.”

  “Me, too!” I exclaim, my heart warmed by her words. “I think you’re awesome! There’s no one I’d rather have as a houseguest.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I draw a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure,” Joy answers calmly.

  “We-e-ell,” I stretch the word, “when I first heard your family would be staying here this Christmas, I wasn’t too excited about it. I mean,” I rush on, “I thought it would be weird. I thought it would be kind of like having, um, having strangers in the house, if you get what I mean? Not that I didn’t know you guys, but--I was worrying about Christmas morning, for instance, and that it might be awkward doing the whole stocking-unstuffing, present-unwrapping thing in our p.j.’s with another family around, and--”

  “I get it,” Joy says. She sounds more amused than offended.

  “You do?”

  “I can see how someone might feel that way.”

  Relief washes through me. “But I don’t anymore!” I assure her. “Because what I forgot to consider is that you guys are my family. My uncle, my aunt, my cousins. And, Joy, you’re even more than that now. You’re almost like--almost like...a sister to me.”

  “Oh, Tori,” says Joy in a quivery voice. “I feel the same way about you.”

  I drift off to sleep on a cloud of happiness.

  “Tori. Tori.” A soft voice whispers insistently at my ear. “Victoria, wake up, sweetheart.”

  I rub my hands across my eyes and sit up slowly, surprised to find that the room is still dark.

  A shadowy figure settles onto the edge of my bed.

  “Mom?” I whisper, blinking. “What are you--What time is it?”

  “It’s four in the morning,” she says softly, “which means it’s Christmas. Merry Christmas, honey.”

  “M
erry Christmas,” I manage. “But-but, Mom--”

  “Shhh,” she interrupts me. “Don’t wake Joy. I came in here to tell you that about fifteen minutes ago, I got a call on my cell phone from Andrew. He’s taking Stephanie to the hospital now.”

  My heart jumps into my throat, and I come suddenly wide-awake. “Really?” I cry.

  “Quiet,” Mom reminds me. Then she wraps me in a hug. “Isn’t this exciting? I thought you’d want to know first thing.”

  She was right about that. A sudden realization strikes me. “Mom,” I say, “this means the baby will be born in time for Christmas, after all!”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Happiness engulfs me momentarily, before a wave of worry slams me against a hard stone wall. What if the baby is a boy? What if I get a nephew instead of a niece? This is it, I realize. This is the moment of truth!

  As soon as Mom has left my room, I ignore her admonition and bound across the carpeted floor to wake up Joy. I shake her till she sits up straight, clutching Bubbles and Marcia to her chest, her long hair spilling in a tangle of waves across her shoulders.

  “Tori?” she asks. “What time is it? What’s going on?”

  “It’s just after four,” I say. “It’s Christmas morning now. But that’s not why I woke you up. My mom just came in to tell me that Stephanie’s on her way to the hospital. The baby will be born today!”

  The news wakes up Joy like a splash of cold water. “That’s wonderful!” she gasps. “Oh, I hope you get a niece, Tori. You really do deserve it!”

  I squeeze her hand. “Thanks! I hope so, too! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep the rest of the night.”

  “Me, neither,” Joy admits. “This is so exciting.”

  I bite my lip. “Sorry I woke you up,” I say.

  “Oh, no!” she breathes. “I’m glad you woke me up.”

  “Good,” I reply, relieved. “Do you want to get in my bed and talk?”