“Hey.” I stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle. “Off with the shoes. This is a Filipino house. Brian, here’s the broom.”
“Ah, Choke, we’re dog tired. Why’re you so strict?”
“Because I’m your legal guardian, buddy. And if you want to try my dishes, you have to do all the housework around here.”
“Humph.” He complains but dutifully gets a broom.
Poor guy. He really was taken with my Livy and took the news hard that she’s his niece. I should cut him some slack. I wish he’d bring home a girl, preferably someone his age or older, but so far, he’s been moping around depressed. I can’t blame him. I miss Livy too and Carlos more.
“Help me set the table when you’re done there,” I yell and return to the kitchen.
Tonight they’re having roasted butternut squash soup with pine nuts, cedar plank grilled salmon with basil oil, pickled bok choy, tomato confit, and buko pandan for dessert.
Boys don’t like salad, but I’m fixing myself one consisting of heirloom beets, carrots, goat cheese, and roasted garlic asparagus sprinkled with calamansi juice.
The salad recipe calls for coffee crumbs; however I’m avoiding caffeine for health reasons.
After dinner, I pass out surveys.
“Ah, seriously, do we have to?” My brother complains. “I have homework.”
His teammates thank me, one by one, while asking for second and third helpings.
The survey is a must if I wish to refine my recipes. I’m submitting my dream menu to a contest sponsored by Chef Enrique Mendoza. The winner gets to have his or her menu prepared for a Christmas Eve dinner at a spinoff restaurant of his. Past winners have been offered jobs at five star hotels and restaurants, and come springtime, I’ll definitely need a means of supporting myself.
# # #
Carlos may be gone, but his mother’s back and taking Julia to church. I sit through Mass, keeping my eye on their heads, bobbing together in prayer. Yes, I’m stalking them, and I hate confrontations, but Julia urged me to let her know.
They speak to the priest after services and make their way through the congregation, greeting their friends. I lie in wait, next to Julia’s car, my hand cradling my expanding belly. Carlos may have left me, but I still have a part of him.
Gloria’s the first to spot me. Her eyes narrow, and her nostrils expand.
“Tita,” I greet her. “I came to church to pray and repent.”
Julia’s face lights with a smile, and she hugs me, acting surprised. “You came to church. I can’t believe it.”
“Yes, thanks to my godmother,” I reply. “Good to see you again, Tita Gloria. Mano po.” I ask her blessing.
She huffs and pulls my knuckle to her forehead. Even though my mother is no longer her friend, and she’s not really my godmother anymore, she’s still Carlos’s mother and the grandmother of my child.
“Wow, you look great.” Julia squeals. “Come to lunch with us.”
Gloria looks like she’d rather eat a knuckle sandwich, but she greases a smile on her face. After all, she can afford to be magnanimous, now that I’m no longer friends with her precious Carlos.
“Actually, I’m not hungry,” I reply and rub my belly. “I came to get your blessing.”
Gloria’s eyes widen and panic etches her face. Oh, yeah. She’s a Filipino mother, and she totally knows where to look for signs of pregnancy. I take a deep breath. It’s time for my speech. Behind her, Julia gives me a thumbs up and a reassuring smile.
“Tita.” I take her hand. “I pray you can forgive me for my mistakes. I’ve asked God to forgive me and He has. I’m sorry I’ve been a disappointing goddaughter.”
Gloria swallows hard and her jaw trembles, but she doesn’t withdraw her hand.
I continue. “I wish you and my mother were friends again, and I know it’s my fault you’re not. I’ve made many mistakes in my life, but loving Carlos is not one of them. I know you don’t approve of my choices, but I love him and will never hurt him again.”
“You’ve hurt him, deeply.” Her voice creaks. “He’ll never get over this. You’ve broken him. Ruined his life.”
Her confirmation of my worst fears brings a huge lump to my throat and a weight over my heart.
“I know I did, and I’m sorry. I’ll never get over him, and I’ll always pray for him and hope the best for him.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you? By my son.”
“Yes, and I won’t keep you from this child, even if Carlos and I never see each other again. Because I love Carlos, I love you too, and I love my child. I want him or her to have everyone’s love and as happy a childhood as I can provide.”
Tears stream down Tita’s wrinkled face. “I wasn’t the one who told Carlos about Livy. I didn’t post on his page.”
“I know you didn’t.” I hug her and she leans in with a sigh. “You love your son and you’d never want to hurt him.”
“It has to be Steve!” Julia cuts in. “I figured it out. Either him or it’s still Brian, or maybe it’s Thomas. Didn’t he sabotage your restaurant? The police caught him stringing firecrackers to the dumpster. Oh, I bet it’s Johnny! Didn’t his mother visit you, Tita? The night Carlos went missing?”
Neither Tita or I respond. We’re in each other’s arms, weeping with both joy and disappointment. I yearn to hear a word from her on how Carlos is doing—hoping she’ll tell him about his baby, that maybe he’ll forgive me.
Gloria kisses me on both cheeks, pinches my arm, and says, “Forgive me for being so hard on you. It’s because I love you and want you to get right with God. Instead, I’ve lost my son. He refuses to speak to me. I’ve also lost your mother’s friendship. I’m grateful your heart is big enough to include me and let me be a grandmother to your child.”
Well, there’s my answer. She won’t be telling Carlos, and I won’t have him in my life, but I’ll have his mother, and I have peace with God, finally.
# # #
Christmas closes in on us. I can’t believe how fast the time is passing. My joints are looser, and my clothes are getting tight. Blogging is really fun, and I’ve made a bunch of online friends. I’m also taking a Japanese flower arrangement class to develop my artistic eye, and I’m training to be a food stylist.
Julia comes over to help me decorate for the holidays. She went back to work as a nurse and has been seeing a therapist, a man she thinks is hot despite his owlish glasses.
“When are your parents arriving?” She hangs a wreath on the front door.
“They’re coming back from the Philippines next week.”
“You think they saw Carlos there?”
I angle my eyes at her, puzzled. “It’s a big country. I doubt they ran into each other.
Julia covers her mouth. “Oh, uh, my parents saw them in Quezon City near Carlos’s parents’ place. What if they told him about the baby?”
“If they had, he hasn’t contacted me. Besides, I swore them to secrecy.”
“Secrets are never safe in a Filipino family.” Julia laughs. “Why won’t you tell him?”
The baby tumbles, and I press my hand where he’s kicking. “You know I can’t. He’s done with marriage, and he’ll only think I’m trying to trap him.”
“That’s how Steve was.” Julia helps me drag the Christmas tree box out of the under the stairs closet. “Did you know he tried to break you and Carlos up so Carlos can marry me so he’ll be off the hook?”
“Huh? How’d he plan on doing that?”
“Easy. He’s Johnny’s brother by a different father.” Julia rubs her nose and sneezes.
“Johnny’s brother? What the heck?”
“Yep.” She aims her index finger like Sherlock about to make a point. “I bet he posted on Carlos’s page. He has the means, motive, and opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
Julia gleams like she’s a star detective. “That night you took off with Carlos to Vegas? He and his mother, you know that cr
azy lady who shot up Barrio XO? They visited Tita Gloria at Carlos’s apartment.”
I’m not following her warped train of thought. I roll my hand in small circles. “So Miranda and Steve visit Tita Gloria and show her that Johnny is Livy’s father. I don’t get how it means he posted the Facebook message.”
“Oh, maybe it wasn’t Steve.” Julia tilts her head as if I’m a slow student. “It could be Miranda, the crazy lady. You know she tried to talk to Livy outside of the junior high school and Kevin threw a restraining order against her?”
“Ha, at least I’m not the only one. That crazy bitch better stay far away from Livy.”
“They deported her ass. Since she pled guilty to firing the gun, she’s not allowed within so many yards of any school.” Julia opens the box and removes the branches. “Oh, these are squished, we need to fluff them. Why don’t we put the trunk together first?”
“Wait, how do you know it was Miranda who hacked Carlos’s Facebook account?”
“What I can’t figure out is how they found out about Livy.” Julia frowns. “Oh wait, maybe when Steve was my fiancé, someone told him, and he told Johnny and Miranda?”
“How did they get Livy’s DNA?” It dawns on me. Johnny bought Livy an expensive necklace. Could he have gathered her hairs while hooking the clasp around her neck?
Julia waves her hands and bounces up and down. “I remember now. Oh shit, you’re right. Steve’s in military intelligence. He can hack into people’s accounts.”
So, now we’re back to Steve being the culprit again.
I try not to shrug my shoulder in exasperation. “He doesn’t need to hack in if Carlos leaves his cell phone unlocked to let his mama use it.”
Julia’s eyebrows bend in concentration while fluffing the tree branches. “How are we going to get Livy back? Do you think Kevin will let her visit your parents? How about if I tell him it was Steve and Miranda’s fault?”
“Maybe, but I’m not putting much hope out.” I push the tree’s trunk into the stand. “Do you think Kevin will listen if Steve talks to him?”
“He might. Kevin always admired Steve for knowing how to shoot, jump out of helicopters, and fight hand-to-hand.”
“Good, tell Steve he owes me one. That was low of him. Didn’t he stop to think how it would affect Livy?”
Julia purses her lips and shrugs. “He always says the ends justify the means. Maybe I was lucky he jilted me.”
“Finally, you see the light.” I shake her arm. “You narrowly escaped having Miranda for a mother-in-law.”
She giggles and throws a wreath over my head. “Oh, gosh, you’re so right. No wonder he never mentioned his mother the entire time we were dating.”
The doorbell chimes Big Ben tones. I’m not expecting anyone, but with the holidays approaching, it could be a delivery. Of course I won’t admit it, even to myself, but there’s always the impossible glimmer of hope that it might be Carlos.
In my fantasies, he returns with a big bouquet of flowers and tickets to the Padres game, or he invites me to a tailgate party and has seats reserved at Qualcomm Stadium. Even a walk in the nature preserve or a stroll on the beach with a stop for crab cakes and fish tacos would do. Or he shows up with a gigantic gift basket of baby clothes, balloons, and toys.
I open the door, but it’s only the postman. He hands me an overnight delivery envelope. “Please sign here.”
I scribble my name and thank him.
“Who’s that from?” Julia looks over my shoulder.
“I don’t know. Must be important.” My heart beats faster. “Maybe it’s from my lawyer. I want Livy to know I’m ready to fight for her.”
“You should get her back,” Julia says. “Livy misses you.”
“Please, stop telling me this. It breaks my heart.” I open the envelope. It’s a letter from Chef Mendoza congratulating me. “I won. I won the dream menu contest.”
“Squeee! Does it come with a prize?” Julia takes the letter and looks it over.
“Yes, ten thousand dollars and an invitation to a Christmas Eve dinner using my recipes.” I hug Julia, and we dance around. “Will you go with me?”
“Of course I will. Your luck’s changing. Maybe you’ll get a job offer out of this. It’s going to be a Merry Christmas.”
Chapter 42
Mama and Papa arrive a day before Christmas Eve, without Tita Gloria, even though Julia invited her.
“She’s not welcome here,” Mama says when I ask where Gloria is. “She can stay with Julia for all I care.”
“Has she talked to you?” I rest my hand over my belly. I’m about twenty weeks pregnant, halfway to my due date in May. “Maybe you two would be friends again.”
“Whatever for? I don’t need her around.” Mama glances at my belly. “How are you doing?”
“Feeling great about winning the prize.” I hug my father.
“Have you gone by the restaurant?” Mama asks. “I haven’t heard any news.”
“Nope. I don’t care what Johnny’s doing,” I reply. “As long as he stays away from me and Livy.”
My father pats my back. “I hear there’s a grand opening coming up, but I’d rather stay home and sample what our Choco has cooked up.”
“Yes,” Mama says. “We kept up with your blog whenever we could. Is the special dinner tomorrow? Are we all invited?”
“Of course.” I lead them to the kitchen where I have my menus printed up. “They’re picking us up by limo and after dinner, I get a tour of the kitchen.”
Papa opens the menu and nods. “Very good. You’re learning well.”
“Is there Filipino food in there?” Mama slides on her reading glasses. “I see some, but what’s the quinoa and goat cheese for? And all these foreign ingredients.”
“It’s fusion, combining the best and most healthy ingredients from around the world, and making the food taste Filipino. For example, with the stuffed chicken, instead of using bacon, eggs, pickles, and breadcrumbs, I use puffed quinoa, shiitake mushrooms, baby asparagus tips and sweet potato puree.”
Mama wrinkles her nose. “At least you have beefsteak with the onion rings, calamansi marinade, and cream sauce.”
“Yes, but I use yogurt instead of cream, and low sodium soy sauce.” I show her the recipe printouts. “You’ll get to sample all these dishes tomorrow for Noche Buena.”
“If only that boy Carlos could see her now,” Mama says, kissing Papa. “He’d be so proud.”
“Proud? I’ll put a shotgun to his nose if he dares show his face here.” Papa grunts before kissing her back.
I step aside and leave the kitchen, tears swimming in my eyes. They’re so much in love, and even though they had that problem with Miranda blackmailing Papa because of me, they got past it.
Tonight, before going to bed, I break my vow not to contact Carlos. I try texting, but the person texting back says it’s not his number anymore. His last known email bounces, and he’s disappeared from social media.
There’s nothing I can do but take out paper and pen and write to him at his family home in the Philippines.
Dear Carlos, I know we promised not to contact each other, and if you chose not to answer me, I’ll understand. I miss you. Every day I’m away from you, I think about you. You’ll be happy to hear I’ve taught myself how to cook. My parents left me in charge of Brian, and by necessity, I had to cook for him and his friends. I also won Chef Mendoza’s menu contest. I know you disagree with his philosophy, but I hope you’re happy I won.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m hoping to get a job designing menus for restaurants and hotels.
I also made up with your mom. I know you’re not speaking to her and have cut her off, but she’s truly sorry and grieves for you. I told her she’ll always have a place in my life, and she can stay with me whenever she visits. I’m not doing this to try to get you back because I know I hurt you too much, but she’s my godmother, and I want to stay in touch with her.
Wishing you all
the best, a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I’ll never forget how you used to dress as Santa and pass out gifts at Barrio XO or the times we went Christmas caroling.
I’ll always love you, and I wish you wouldn’t stay away. If you come back, I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you again, but I will promise to always make up to you the best way I can.
If you’re with someone else, kindly let me know so I can live the rest of my life without expectation and hope.
Yours always, Choco
# # #
“How do I look?” I twirl around in an aubergine-colored tiered chiffon dress. Its gentle layers float over my growing belly. The tulip-hem breaks the contours, distracting the eye from my waist.
“No one can tell you’re pregnant,” Julia says. “The layers cover it well.”
“That’s good.” I pat foundation on my face. “There might be cameras, so I better smooth on some concealer.”
She elbows me. “You’ve always had a crush on Chef Mendoza. Now’s your chance.”
“Ha, not in my condition.” I brush on mascara and blot my eyelashes with a tissue to prevent clumping.
“Why not? Just because you’re in the family way doesn’t mean you’re not available.”
My heart twists thinking of my letter to Carlos. I rushed to the post office this morning, but he won’t receive it until after Christmas. If he’s spending it with someone else, shouldn’t I at least try to move on?
“Maybe he’s not available.” I touch up my lipstick. “Besides, he’s quite a bit older, in his forties.”
“Early forties and single. I checked on the internet.”
A black stretch limousine takes me, Mama, Papa, Brian, and Julia to the restaurant. My heartbeat quickens when it takes the downtown exit, the same one on the way to Barrio XO. I wonder where Chef Mendoza’s place is located and dread going past our old location in case Johnny has torn it down.
Mama clutches Papa and points out the window. “I haven’t heard Chef Mendoza talk about a restaurant downtown. I thought it’d be in Mission Hills.”
We pass Horton Plaza and the Gas Lamp district. My pulse hammers faster and faster. I don’t want to drive by what used to be our restaurant.
Claiming Carlos Page 30