The Holiday Switch

by Tif Marcelo

  “Thank you. I’ve got it from here,” I offer. “You’ve got stuff to do.”

  “No way. Tita would kill me if she knew I didn’t make sure you were good.” He rushes ahead to the free library area. “Do you mind if I push this table out of the way?”

  “I’m totally fine with that.” But I’m more than fine. To be honest, I’m touched that he thought to ask. “This is a perfect spot.”

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets after he sets up the chairs. “So whatcha gonna do while you wait?”

  I gesture to my backpack. “You know me, I can keep busy.”

  “You have a book in there, don’t you?”

  “But of course. And I have my phone, which is another reading device.”

  “And you can blog from it.”

  I eye him.

  He laughs. “We’re seriously alone. No one’s going to know.”

  “Fine. Yes. I am going to blog.”

  “I’m interested to see what Christmas story you read next. Who knew there were holiday cozy mysteries and thrillers? Not just the romances everyone knows about.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to choose, with so many indie and self-pubbed books in addition to books published by big publishing houses.” I peer at him. “Wait a sec. How many of my posts have you read?”

  “Um…most.”

  “Most?” My face heats.

  “Okay, all. I mean, if you’re going to start a blog, isn’t that what it’s for? For people to read it?”

  “I…” Of course, I know that. I knew that. “I don’t usually discuss my blog with anyone.”

  “I guess it would make sense, since you’re keeping it a secret.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I like your blog’s format. You ask great questions. They get to the heart of the book. Also, I love your pros and cons. I like how you categorize the sidebar, so I can go straight to genre. It’s…organized, much like you. I actually picked up a couple of books you recommended.”

  This fact makes my brain go fuzzy. “You picked up books I recommended?”

  “Yeah, I sent gift ebooks to my mom for Christmas.”

  Here’s the thing, in the twenty-three months I’ve blogged, I have never really seen the result of it. Yes, I get the comments on my posts. But I’ve never had someone, in person, tell me that I’ve helped them pick out a book.

  I’m flummoxed. I don’t know what to do with this information. “That’s…nice.” I wince at my lack of articulate words. “I’m actually really honored.”

  His phone in his hand lights up. Moment over.

  “I guess I should go?” He takes a step back. But he hesitates, like he doesn’t want to.

  The question in his tone spurs me forward. I like that he’s waiting for a sign from me.

  “Unless…” I look at my phone. “I mean, do you want to hang out? I know you have to climb in the morning.”

  “I do have practice, but I can move it.”

  “Okay.” But inside, I’m anything but okay. We’re alone, and my feelings for him are stronger than ever, and what do I do with that?

  The heater clicks on, and the icicle lights we put up sway from the blast of the warm vent air. It spurs an idea.

  “Are you still down for doing something for Mission: Holly?”

  He brightens. “Yeah, sure.”

  “By all means, have a seat.” I gesture to one of the chairs. “Close your eyes.”

  His eyebrows lift.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Slowly, he shuts his eyes. “Yes,” he says without hesitation.

  His answer awakens the butterflies in my belly. I gulp.

  In my silence he adds, “I mean, you did catch me while ice-skating.”

  I smile. “Keep them shut.” I turn the corner of the nearest bookshelf and pick out the perfect thing that will pass the time. I pluck it out of its case and slip it into the gift shop’s entertainment system. With the remote control, I press PLAY.

  The iconic intro from Holiday by the Lake fills the room.

  “Nooooo,” Teddy says, opening his eyes. He doubles over as if in pain and groans. “This isn’t on the Mission: Holly list is it?”

  “It is now!” I laugh, and physically push him until he finally sits up. “It’s not that bad.”

  “What is it with this movie? It’s so predictable. And pure emotional manipulation.” He gestures to the framed movie poster hanging across from us.

  Yet, despite his reaction, I don’t take the bait. This is a person who has been reading my holiday book recommendations. He’s way more open-minded than he lets on.

  I keep my face neutral. As an eldest sister, patience is a skill that I have mastered. I click the stop button on the remote control and the scene freezes to the aerial view of Holly. “How about we flip for it?”

  His eyes round, excitement beaming through. “All right.” He jumps up and lumbers to the cash registers, to our penny jar. Upon returning, he presents the penny in his palm. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “Sure,” I say, taking it. The penny is marred and darkened in some places, but Abraham Lincoln’s profile is shiny. C’mon, Abe. We got this. “You call it.”

  As I flip the penny in the air, Teddy says, “Tails.”

  I snatch the penny and keep it in my grasp. “Ready?”

  “You’re intense even down to this coin toss.” He smirks. “But I love it. Let’s see it.”

  I slap the coin into my palm and slowly withdraw my hand.

  It’s heads.

  * * *

  “No no no, don’t leave!” Teddy slaps his palm against his forehead. He gestures toward the screen, at the young Leo Marks, who’s walking away from a sobbing Estelle Mendoza.

  It’s the lowest, saddest point in the movie, and a part of me wants to spoil the ending for Teddy, to end his torture. What he doesn’t know is that a happily-ever-after awaits. But I bite my cheek to keep myself from spilling. I want to witness his reaction.

  While the writing has room for improvement, the acting is spot on. There’s a reason why new, skeptical viewers like Teddy are hooked despite their initial resistance, and why it has been such a special part of our town for so many years—Jonah Johanson and Remy Castillo brought it. Readers of the book and viewers of the film want the happily-ever-after for these characters. And with the triumphant ending, it makes people feel that they can get their own happily-ever-after.

  For all of his talk about not wanting to watch this movie, Teddy now has a pillow clutched to his chest. And somehow, our chairs are pushed together and our shoulders and thighs are touching.

  “I can’t. I can’t.” He presses PAUSE so the screen freezes on the shot of the heartbroken Estelle walking down Main Street, which is lit up by festive blinking colorful lights. Teddy’s expression is incredulous. “How could he walk away, after…after she said that she loved him?”

  “I guess you’re going to have to watch the rest of it,” I cajole. “Have faith.”

  He heaves a breath. When he does, his hair flops forward. “I’m going to raid the break room for snacks. I need sustenance. Is that okay?”

  I nod. But more than that, I love that he’s so invested. It’s like finding out someone likes the same book you do—it creates an instant bond. In this case, it strengthens it. “It’s so good, right?”

  “If you mean stress-inducing, then yes.” He stands. “I’ll be back with food.”

  As soon as Teddy disappears around the corner, I check in with Carm via text. I’d updated her on my status after I called my parents, and I’m bursting with both news and curiosity. She and Aiden ended up hanging out after ice-skating.

  Carm: You kept me on read for forever! What are you guys doing?

  Lila: Watching Holiday by the Lake

 
Carm: And what else?

  Lila: Aaaaaand that’s it.

  What are you doing?

  Carm: None of your beeswax.

  Lila: CARM

  Carm: LILA

  Okay, so Aiden came over to watch a movie here too

  Lila: With Frank and Trish?

  Carm: Yes it was fully embarrassing

  Lila: So does that mean…

  Carm: I have no idea

  “Yes,” Teddy cheers from the break room. He must have found the secret stash of popcorn. First comes the crinkling of the wrapper and then the beep of the microwave. It makes me smile, his sudden bursts of enthusiasm.

  Carm: So…I think it’s time for you to finally admit it.

  Lila: Admit what.

  Carm: That, sweet Lila, you like him.

  I shake my head at the phone, but I know my best friend is right.

  Lila: I think I do

  But I’m not sure he feels the same

  Carm: If he doesn’t like you back, why did he stay with you?

  Lila: Because he’s bored.

  And he lives in the cabin out back

  Carm: Get real!

  The smell of popcorn filters into the room, and my stomach growls. It’s followed by Teddy, holding the steaming bag. He tosses a kernel into his mouth. “I think I’m ready to tackle the end of this movie.” He sits down next to me. “It ends well, right? No one dies?”

  “No,” I laugh. “No one dies.”

  “Just making sure. Sometimes you just need a happy ending.” He echoes my words from my last blog post and offers the bag. “Want some?”

  “Sure,” I say, keeping a smile from leaving my lips. I’d like a happily-ever-after too.

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 28

  As we watch the credits roll, blinking lights shine into the window.

  “Clyde’s here!” I stand and watch the snowplow crest the hill into the parking lot. When I turn around, Teddy is still sitting there with the empty bag of popcorn on his lap. He looks bereft, and once more my heart squeezes at his reaction. “What did you think?”

  “Okay, so you were right,” he says. “It’s a good movie.”

  “Told you so.”

  “I can see why this whole place is revered.” He sighs, and his face falls into a frown.

  “You okay?” I sit back down.

  “Yeah. I…Never mind.”

  “No, what is it?”

  “I was just thinking how I haven’t taken this place seriously. My parents always say that Tita Lou bites off more than she can chew, especially after inheriting this place from Lola. Did you know that there was an offer for the business when Lola died?”

  I shake my head.

  “Someone wanted to buy the entire property, the concept, everything, but Tita Lou refused. My mom, on the other hand, was ready to let it go. But this place was left to the both of them. They fought about it, and in the end, Tita Lou bought my mom out.”

  “Wow. That’s why—” I start, then back off.

  He half laughs. “Why I was pretty negative? Yeah. But you made sure that I checked my preconceived notions. And now I’m looking at this whole place, at Tita Lou even, with new eyes. And maybe my mom’s issue with her shouldn’t be mine.”

  My mother’s words from our Leftover Christmas dinner return to me: I want the both of you to be close, through the ups and downs. Family is all we have.

  “You have to understand,” he continues, “my parents are serious people. Not only are they serious, but they’re also risk averse. Going into business like this—it doesn’t guarantee success.”

  “This place is a success.”

  “I know…just not in their eyes.”

  “Is that why you don’t want to tell them about your climbing?”

  “No.” He sighs. “I hate to talk about this, because it makes everyone worry.”

  From the look on his face, I can tell this is no laughing matter. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, I want to. You know everything else. I’ve…I’ve had a couple of concussions.”

  “A couple?” Alarm rings through me. I think about the news segments I’ve seen on TBI. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, and they’re both from climbing.”

  The memory of him climbing that sky-high wall returns, but this time, I picture the frightening image of him falling…

  I clutch my stomach. “God, that must have been horrible.”

  “I was on a boulder. The funny thing about it is that I was only five feet off the ground.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s funny at all.”

  “No, you’re right. It wasn’t. It was a novice competition, when I was younger, in middle school. Not too hard for what I could have accomplished at that time. But I was arrogant. That day, I lost focus. I was coming from underneath”—he looks up and pretend-clutches the air, and for a moment, I see exactly what he was doing—“and it was a simple push off with my left foot to get my hand to the next handhold and…”

  His hands drop to his lap.

  I wince at the image.

  “I should have landed on my feet, but I was expecting to make it. My back and head took the brunt. I recovered from it after about a month. Then I fell again—we all realize now that it was too early for me to go back—and my parents pulled the plug. I don’t know about you, but when someone takes the thing you love away, it’s a rough go. As soon as I left for college, the first thing I did was look for the nearest climbing gym.” His eyebrows knit together. “And now I…”

  “What is it?”

  “My parents think I’m at school for winter classes. But I used that as an excuse so that I could keep climbing and enter this competition.”

  “Wait.” The words settle in my brain. “Your parents don’t know you’re in Holly?”

  He rubs the back of his head. “No. And Tita Lou and my mom don’t talk to one another, so…”

  “That’s…”

  “It’s lying to the nth degree. And I’m not proud of it.” He leans into his elbows, then looks back up at me. “You’re judging me, aren’t you?”

  I catch his gaze. It’s not judgment I have, but empathy. To me, Teddy and climbing are synonymous. It’s his passion. “I’m not here to do that. I have my own secrets, remember?”

  “You know, Lila, you should be telling the world that you’re Tinsel and Tropes.” Then, after a beat, his shoulders drop. “Then again, who am I to say, right? I haven’t owned up to my secrets. Although…I plan to tell my parents before the competition.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “I’ve been thinking of the perfect time, but it hasn’t come up yet. Though I doubt they’ll want to support me after I tell them. I guess I didn’t plan out this far.”

  “Listen, Teddy…” I take a breath and say what I would want to be said to me. “No matter what, I’ll be there for you.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  A silence follows, and in that space, I realize that our friendship has grown leaps and bounds since our truce at the train depot. And despite our rough start, I accept him. I trust him.

  It gives me the courage to share. “I don’t know what to do.” The words plop out of my mouth. “I mean…” I try again. “I thought I knew what I wanted to do. It seemed clear—to be in a career that would make me successful and financially comfortable. I’m good at science. I’m good with people. So why not a doctor? And yet—”

  “You’re not feeling that way now?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s what I p
ut down on my college applications. It’s what I’ve told everyone. I got footed pajamas with stethoscopes on them for Christmas.”

  “Those sound fun.” He leans back in his seat.

  “They are. And it’s not as if I’m against the idea of being a doctor. I came up with it when…” I swallow the nerves creeping up my esophagus. My first instinct is to keep all of this in; after all, opportunity comes from struggle, and what’s done is done. But Teddy has been honest with me. Now it’s my turn.

  So I press on. “I blog anonymously not to keep my identity secret from the rest of the world, but to keep it from my parents.”

  “Your parents don’t know?”

  I shake my head.

  “They don’t want you to write?”

  “No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want me to write.” I shift in my chair, not from discomfort but to get my facts in order. “Four winters ago, there was an accident with my dad’s business,” I begin, and tell Teddy everything. The HelpFund, the doxing, the prank phone calls. The creepy guy. My parents’ rules. As I share, the weight on my shoulders decreases a smidge, and it allows me to dive into what it all means to me, today. “I’m sure my parents are digging their way out of it still, though they don’t complain. With so many of us kids, it has to be hard, right? I don’t want to be a burden. I want to help them in the future. Being a doctor, I thought, would get me there.”

  “But you don’t think so anymore?”

  I shrug. “Being a doctor should allow me to help them and my siblings. But can other things do that too? I’ve thought about it so much during the break that I even filled out an internship application for something that’s not remotely associated with premed.”