Page 73 of Pining for You

“Oh, man,” I say, remembering how hard the city was hit by the pandemic. I consider adding, I can’t imagine. But that isn’t entirely true. Because I can imagine it, if I really try. I just don’t want to. It’s too awful. Too big. Too unfair to lose one parent, let alone two. And then to lose her brother in a way, on top of it all. No wonder her belief in Christmas magic has been tested. So much has been taken from her without her having a say.

“Yeah. And Hugo’s been, like, frozen in time ever since. He got obsessed with that Muppet version of A Christmas Carol when he was really little, and when he was old enough to understand it was a real book, he begged for a copy. Made us all take turns reading it to him every night. And not just Christmas—like alllll year. It was so annoying.” She laughs at the memory. “Then he started putting on his own little performances of it every year too—always as Gonzo playing Dickens. He would steal my dad’s sport coats out of his closet, which basically swallowed him, and make us sit on the couch as his audience.”

“That’s incredible!” I say, imagining the scene—Eve and her family all together.

“My mom and Tía were dope seamstresses. They did alterations and stuff together as a side hustle in the neighborhood. They surprised him with the outfit as a joint gift from both of them, and that special red copy of the book that Christmas—my parents’ last Christmas.” She pauses.

Eve stops in front of a window display. It’s a little gift shop with a still-lit tree in the window—the only light inside the space—surrounded by novelty coffee mugs and key chains and Santa hats. The lights glint off her deep brown eyes.

“He grew out of the original suit years ago, but Tía keeps going, mending some of the old stuff until he’s too big, then making him new pieces from scratch. But one of these days she’s not going to be able to do it anymore…”

Cash comes to mind immediately. Maybe that’s something he could do if they need backup someday. But for now, I search my heart for a more appropriate response.

“Wow,” I say after a beat. “That’s a labor of love.”

Eve nods, and there’s a glassiness in her eyes. I glance at her now, while she’s looking into that store window, or maybe studying her own reflection in it, or just trying not to meet my eyes so she can hide her emotion. And I know that even though I still want to kiss her—so badly—and help her experience Christmas magic again, I want so much more than that. I want to give her the moon—our moon—and all the stars in the cerulean sky, to help her to have faith in all the good things, all year long, and to experience the comfort and joy that comes with really, truly believing in something. Something like love.

But I can’t say any of that. Not right now. So I just wait in silence beside her, until she speaks again.

“Anyway,” Eve says after a beat. “We moved in with Tía and Carlos after that, and we’ve been there ever since. They’re the best and we’re super lucky. It could have been way worse.”

“Well, they do seem amazing, and if you get to eat those tamales on the regular, it’s basically the jackpot,” I say, but I know how un-fun it is, always trying to make other people feel less uncomfortable around your pain, so I add, “But I’m sure that doesn’t mean it’s any easier without your parents, and that it’s probably been extra hard with your brother.”

“Yeah, it is,” Eve says. She looks at me and there’s a softening, an opening, like a window cracked just enough to let in some fresh air. “It’s, um… not something a lot of people get, ya know? They’re just kinda like, Cute kid, and, Too bad about the talking—I’m sure he’ll come around eventually! So… I appreciate you seeing that.” She tucks a soft curl behind her ear and takes a deep breath, then continues, “It seems like maybe you get it. You said you have a sister, right? Complicated communication?”

I’m kind of flattered that she remembered—that she was paying such close attention—even though I wish she hadn’t.

“I do indeed,” I say. “Very complicated, in all the ways.”

“So… you guys aren’t close, then?” Eve asks.

I open my mouth to answer with a quick no, but then stop. I’m grateful to Audra for the second time today. The first time for seeing me, and again now, because I’ve had a chance to sort of practice this.

Part of why I don’t talk about this stuff is that I don’t want to be the one to bring down a mood, but Eve has been so real with me about her family and her loss, showing me all her pain out in the open, it only feels right that I be honest and real with her in return. So I inhale the cold air through my nose and use the breath to help me through what I’m about to say.

“We used to be,” I finally answer. “We used to do everything together, especially at Christmas… the tree trimming, the movie marathons, the cocoa and Christmas morning of it all. But not anymore. Not since she…”

I pause. I never know how to describe this. Does Michelle have an illness or an addiction? Is she “mentally unwell” or destructive and selfish? Troubled or just in need of care? Is it all these things? These are the details maybe I’ll have a chance to learn with a support group, like Audra said. But for now I have to decide how I want to say it. And suddenly the language seems really important.

Eve isn’t rushing me though. She’s quiet as she waits. Totally patient.

“Well, she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but she’s also had trouble with drugs. She’s been in rehab, and on meds and stuff. But honestly, I’m still kind of trying to understand it all…”

She slows her pace a little, and I match her.

“That must be really hard on you,” she says. “Even though she’s alive… that’s a big loss. Especially if you used to be close.”

“It was,” I say, realizing she’s right—it has been a loss. I’ve never framed it that way… like there’s grief involved. “It’s hard to describe sometimes. Knowing she’s still out there, living her life every day, but that the person I used to know might be gone forever…”

Does Eve ever worry about Hugo this way? Does she question whether she’ll ever talk to him like she once did?

“And so it’s just you two and your mom?” she asks.

“Yeah. But now my mom works constantly because there are a ton of bills. I got a job so I could chip in because I really want her to work less,” I say.

“Damn. That’s a lot for you to take on,” she says after a moment.

“Yeah,” I say. It’s really validating to have someone recognize that for me, especially Eve, because she is someone who would know. Still, I have to share something else if I want to be really truthful with her. It’s a part that feels hard to say out loud, but with another breath, I try. “But… honestly? It’s kind of selfish. I want her not to have to work so much so she can spend time with me, too. Maybe that’s kind of pathetic, ya know… wanting my mom’s attention…”