The Year They Fell

by David Kreizman

  She started to carry the snacks and drinks over to the desk. I closed the files as quickly as I could. By the time she got around to my side they were hidden away. Look, I know how this is in the movies. The guy learns a terrible secret and he decides to do the noble thing. He’s going to protect the woman he loves from news that could break her heart. He’ll suffer in silence and take the secret to his grave to keep her from getting hurt. That wasn’t me. I didn’t make noble sacrifices. I’m not even sure I knew what it meant. What I did know is Josie said she was thankful to have me in her life. I knew that sneaking into an empty law office in the middle of the night was one of the best days I’d ever had. I knew that I would do anything to hold on to that feeling.

  “So far I haven’t found anything.” Lie. “Just boring depositions and case summaries.” Lie. “I’ll copy the important files and we can share some of them with Harrison.” Lie lie lie.

  Josie watched me carefully. “You sure you didn’t find anything?”

  I shook my head. “No, I mean … It’s just legal stuff. I’m sorry.”

  Josie let out a sigh. She unwrapped a Red Vine, stuck one in her mouth, and handed me the other. She deserved to know. She was the toughest person I’d ever met. After what happened with the coach, she came back stronger than ever. She could face this, too. If I let her. She came here looking for truth, and I found it. At least some of it.

  But what if I told her and she blamed me? What if she hated me for delivering the news? What if she ran out of the office and we had to go back to ignoring each other? I couldn’t handle that again. I wouldn’t. So I kept it to myself because I needed her in my life. And, as always, having Josie in my life changed everything.

  12

  DAYANA

  Christmas used to be a BFD in our house. When we arrived in the U.S., Papi was all about giving me the big Catholic Christmas we had back home. He brought in a tree that was taller than the ceiling and lined it with enough presents to fill our living room. Mami decorated the house with whatever flowers she could find in the market. We got dressed up for Misa de Gallo at St. Augustine’s, where we said prayers for our friends and family back home and those in the States. But when things went to shit for him and we downsized, Christmas took a hit, too. The tree got smaller. The presents got fewer. We even stopped going to church. Every year was a little crappier and a little crappier until the Christmas before the plane crash, when Casa de Calderón finally hit rock-fucking-bottom. My parents had transitioned from arguing all the time to avoiding each other and barely speaking at all.

  Honestly, I think we all would’ve been happier if we’d just killed a giant punch bowl of eggnog spiked with Ambien and slept from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day. But Papi accepted an invite to his cousin Miguel’s Noche Buena feast in our old Patterson neighborhood. I wasn’t usually into gatherings of any sort, but I was actually looking forward to the tamales and the music and being around people who still made an effort to have fun. I pulled out a red dress I hadn’t worn in two years and borrowed a pair of Mami’s heels. When I was dressed and ready to go, I came into to the living room just as Mami was on her way out the door.

  “I’m sorry, Daya. There’s an emergency at the office. A deal has broken down. The partners are working through the night and I must be there.” If she didn’t want to go, she should’ve let her face know. There was no hiding the relief on it. The woman didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve with her family.

  Papi and I stood in the kitchen, watching her go. “I’m not feeling so good, Daya,” he said. “Please call your primo Miguel and tell him I just can’t.”

  “Papi…”

  He shook his head and trudged off to the bedroom. I hated Mami for doing this to him again.

  The one good thing about rock-fucking-bottom is you can’t get lower. ’Course I had to admit there were about fifteen times in the last few years that I thought were low points until I realized soon they were just way stations to points even lower. But with a year’s distance, I could say without hesitation that last Christmas was the actual, honest-to-goodness, dogshit-horrible, lowest point in the life of the Calderón family.

  I’m not saying this year was going to be jingle bells and candy canes and Whos in Whoville, but the dread was slightly less dreadful. Papi had made it past a couple of rounds of interviews for a job at a big construction firm. He was trying. Mami was still too caught up in her own shit to notice, but I noticed. And so I tried, too. I started writing down which pills I took and how many. Maybe I’d been hanging around Harrison too much. Harrison and his lists. But each day I tried to take one less. I wasn’t ready to give up on altering my moods altogether, but if Papi could work on it, then so could I.

  Harrison had been acting even jumpier than usual since that epically cringey attempt at a kiss, so I finally cornered his ass in the hallway near the science labs. But as soon as I brought it up, he started breathing weird and got this scared look on his face.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I get it. I’m very kissable.”

  “You said I’m the weirdest person you know.”

  “You’re up there, pal.”

  “Well, you’re the weirdest person I know. Number one. No one else is even close.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen, I understand what happens to you. The panic attacks.”

  “I don’t have—”

  “Harrison, cut the shit. I’ve seen you.”

  He rubbed up and down his forearm. “Glitches.”

  “Huh?”

  “I call them glitches.”

  “Oh. Glitches. I get it. That’s a good word for it. My brain turns on itself sometimes, too.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I get high.”

  “Right. Have you ever tried reciting pi? It’s fairly easy to memorize if you break it up in chunks. I can help you over Christmas break.”

  “I’ll think about it. Hey, what are you and your pop doing for the holidays?”

  “I don’t know. I have a lot of research to do. Phone calls to make.”

  “About the crash.”

  “Yes. I know you think it’s just crazy talk.”

  “Are Archie and Josie helping you?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought we were all going to do this together. Now I think they’re together without me.”

  “I think it’s more complicated than that,” I said. “Just do me a favor, if you start to … you know, glitch. Text me.”

  He nodded and I watched him walk off down the hall.

  “I’m inviting everyone for Noche Buena,” I announced to Mami and Papi when I walked in the door after school.

  “Dayana, we don’t have time to prepare a feast for the family. If you want to try going to your primo Miguel’s apartment again—”

  “Not that everybody. I mean Harrison and his dad. Archie and Lucas. The Clays.”

  She looked stunned. “You want to invite the Sunnies?”

  “Don’t call them that.”

  “Jack and Josie, too? Would they come? I’m sure their abuelos are expecting them.”

  “Then they’ll say no. Just like the old days. But we can ask.”

  “Okay. We’ll give it a try.”

  “And Mami … promise this year there won’t be any emergencies at the office.” She looked away and nodded.

  I really didn’t think through my suggestion before I made it. And once Mami said yes I started to freak. This could be an absolute clusterfuck of epic proportions. I didn’t even know how to go about inviting everybody. Horse-drawn carriage and messenger? Smoke signals?

  I opted for a group text. When I say “opted,” I mean I spent two hours writing and rewriting it so it wouldn’t sound too pathetic or too forward. I wanted casual and real. Like Come if you want or don’t come if you want, but it would be really good if you came. But if you can’t, that’s cool, too. Not as cool as if you came, but not uncool either. You know, whatever. I once saw this thing about the new trend of young peop
le getting together with friends instead of spending holidays with their families. They called it Orphan Christmas. Not as cute when the guests are actual orphans.

  I settled on X-mas Eve (Noche Buena) at my house? If you can make it. Vanesa’s cooking. Bring whoever.

  I had barely hit send when my phone dinged. Archie’d already texted back. He must’ve been staring at his phone with his thumbs over the keypad.

  Lucas and I are in

  This is Archie

  You already knew that

  Just making sure

  Lucas might want to bring his bf

  Sam

  They’re very close

  He’s at my house all the time

  He’ll probably want Sam to come

  I’m sure he’ll want to be with Sam on X-mas Eve

  I’ll let you know about Sam. It’s pretty serious

  Archie plus one or probably two

  Archie’s text-arrhea might have gone on all night if Harrison hadn’t cut in with a well-constructed text of his own: Dear Dayana, thank you for the invitation. My father and I will gladly join you for Noche Buena. He says to inform you that he will bring his famous nine-layer dip appetizer. I am not certain what level of fame it’s achieved nor what makes it famous. Also, I am somewhat concerned it might be culturally insensitive.

  Those responses were not followed by one from Josie or Jack. Not that I was expecting either to write back right away. It was pretty hard to concentrate on a whole lot else while I waited. But what if Josie had changed her number and I didn’t know about it? Or what if the network was down and my message didn’t go through? Or what if she’d decided that cell phones caused brain tumors and was no longer using a cell phone at all?

  I almost sent follow-up texts, but for once I decided to let it be. Josie and Jack were not coming to my house for Christmas Eve, and I was fine with that. It was delusional to think that just because their amazing Mom and Dad were gone, they’d be looking to my screwed-up padres to fill the void.

  * * *

  I’d given up on getting an answer. And that’s when Josie came to see me at my lunch table.

  I always sat in the same seat in the heart of Lonersville. Corner table, last chair, back to the wall where I could see the whole room. The view offered me protection if anyone was going to mess with me, but it also gave me a chance to watch. Observing everyone else turned what could be a really lonely and depressing part of my day into something I actually looked forward to. Like how Tía Elena used to watch her telenovelas on TV. But a few months into senior year, I got tired of watching. It was no longer fun to witness the hookups and the breakups. The reality show I’d been watching half my life had jumped the shark. I can’t explain why it happened, but after the crash, Josie’s crew started to look silly and maybe even a little sad. How a girl would be so in love one day and then crying the next and then in love with someone else the day after that. It’s like they had no way of seeing five minutes ahead of them.

  So one day I walked into the cafetorium and I headed to my table in the corner. Only instead of sitting with my back to the wall, I sat on the other side with my back to everything else. It was just me, my earbuds, my yogurt, and the yellow wall. And it wasn’t so bad. I cranked up the music (pop, my secret shame) in my head, and I let myself get lost. There could’ve been a straight-up orgy going on behind me and I wouldn’t have even known or cared. Okay, if it were an orgy I’d hope someone would at least tap me on the shoulder with a heads-up.

  When Josie tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped so much my knees crashed into the table, knocking over everything on it. “What the shit?!” I’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. I whipped around and found myself face-to-face with her. She looked tired and maybe a little nervous. She was carrying a brown paper bag and she kept crinkling and uncrinkling the top.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to, uh…”

  “Freak me the fuck out?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, hi.”

  She came over here to say Hi? What was I supposed to say to that?

  “Hi.”

  Josie pulled a napkin from her bag and started scrubbing up the spilled yogurt on the table. She didn’t stop until the table was spotless. “Hey, I was wondering … is that Nocha Bwen—Christmas Eve offer still good?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  She nodded. “If it’s okay, Jack and I would like to come. Thanksgiving at my grandparents’ was enough.”

  I tried to sound casual, like my text. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I just need to tell Nelson and Vanesa so they have enough food in the house for Jack.”

  “Actually,” Josie said, “he hasn’t been eating much since the concussion. He’s not even in school today. Migraine. It happens a lot lately.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She seemed to drift off and didn’t say anything for a while. And then finally: “Can I sit here?”

  Was this some kind of trick? I looked around to see if anyone else was watching. Josie didn’t turn around at all. She was actually waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m going to have to put it to a vote.” I turned my head and looked around, as if consulting all my tablemates. It took a second for Josie to realize I was making a joke.

  She laughed. “If I knew there’d be a vote I would’ve launched a campaign.”

  “Oh God, more posters with your face on them?”

  “You don’t like my student council posters? Come on, you know you have one in your locker.”

  As much as I wanted to just live in this moment, Josie and I going back and forth like we did a thousand years ago, I couldn’t help myself. I had to understand. “What are you doing over here?”

  Her smile dropped. “You want me to go back over to my table?”

  “No. I just…”

  “Good,” she said. “’Cause neither do I.”

  “Welcome to Lonersville, Josie Fucking Clay.”

  * * *

  Getting ready for the First Annual Calderón Orphan Noche Buena™ was stressful. Grocery shopping at the specialty market. Cleaning the house. Mami and Papi bickering and snapping at each other and at me. During a heated battle over the dessert options, I told them both to f off. But I actually said “f” instead of the f word, which is real progress for me. I was down to just a coupla pills a day. And we kinda got shit done. We each took jobs and we put a plan together, and for a couple of days, we upped our family game from HFF (hopelessly fucked forever) to good old-fashioned dysfunctional. Not gonna lie. It felt pretty good.

  I even agreed to suspend my veganism for Mami’s baked pork legs. Weirdly, I found myself getting excited about introducing something so … tico to the others. Like I was sharing a part of myself that I had spent a lot of time trying to cover over. Papi went out and bought a real tree and dug out the box of ancient decorations from the basement. He played some Spanish Christmas tunes on his phone and we pulled out the string lights and tinsel and whatever other old crap was in the box. It had all been purchased in the first couple of years after we moved to America and untouched in at least five. When we got to the bottom of the dusty box, Papi produced an old seashell with a hole in it.

  “Do you know what this is, Daya? I found this on the first date your mami and I ever went on. We walked together on Playa Tortuguero. The parrots were singing overhead and I told her—”

  “‘Voy a casarme contigo un día,’” I said. My Spanish was far from perfect these days, but I’d heard the story a million times before, and he told it the same way each time. It was their first date, and as they strolled together, he told her he was going to marry her one day. She laughed at him, and he made her a bet. Un colón that she’d be his bride. On their wedding day as they stood at the altar she reached into her dress and pulled out a single colón that she placed in his hand.

  “Tú ganas,” she said. You win.

  We had a few minutes under the tree where it was really good. The house smelled like pine. Papi was dressed and sober and Mami wasn’t cryin
g. But once he started with the shell and the “feelsies” and the stroll down memory lane, she bolted out of the house without a word and left him holding his seashell. Papi went back to the tree. I chased Mami outside into the cold, where she was lighting up a cigarette.

  “You’re ruining everything,” I said to her. “Haven’t you done enough? Why do you have to be so selfish and bitter? Couldn’t you try to pretend we’re normal for one fucking night?”

  Historically, this was the part where Mami would rain down fire on me. She’d tell me I was throwing my life away by being like I was. Dressing like a vampira, talking like a sailor. America doesn’t just hand you things. I’d never get a job or a great guy or a fun, exciting life if I just … wallowed in oscuridad. Darkness.

  She stood in the cold and struggled to light a cigarette. “You can’t forget. How do you forget? Or pretend like the last years are gone? They still live for me.” She gave up on her smoke and walked slowly to the car. “We need more butter.”

  Papi came to the door to watch her go. He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he sat down on the steps and placed the seashell beside him.

  “We all make choices,” he said. “Don’t hate her. I don’t.”

  I started to worry I’d made a terrible mistake. Mami had gone to the store and hadn’t come home yet. Papi was still in his room with the door shut. The idea that I would have to host this gathering on my own made me want to scream, or better yet, get very, very high. Papi’s meds might not make the evening go smoother, but at least I wouldn’t notice. I rifled through the medicine cabinet and started to select a few pills to swallow when I heard the doorbell ring. I listened as Papi hurried out of his room to answer the door.

  “Archie. Feliz Navidad. Welcome.”