Lovestruck in Los Angeles

by Schurig, Rachel

  “Do you like it?” he asked. “It’s from that stand in Olvera Street, remember? I thought you should have something to remind you of Tucola as well.”

  It hit me, finally, what the gift was. What at first glance had appeared to be a pile of wooden beads was, in fact, one of the same carved rosaries we had seen the day we shopped for my parents. “It’s beautiful,” I said. My fingers were still shaking, but I reached for it and examined the beads. Each was intricately carved into the shape of various flowers. The cross at the end, too, was intricately carved into filigrees and spindly swirls. I was scared, for a minute, that I might break it just by touching it.

  “How did you buy it without me seeing?” I asked.

  “I went back the next day.” He grinned. “I knew you liked it. And I thought it could kind of be like the statue, you know? Something that represents both your parents.”

  I looked at him, confused. “The artist from Tuloca, for your father,” he said softly. “And flower beads for your mom. You know, Flores. Her maiden name.”

  Something that represents both your parents.

  I looked up and saw that most of the others had stopped what they were doing to watch us. Bryony looked flat-out disappointed, Mr. and Mrs. Harper both curious. And then there were Thomas’s eyes, so steady on mine, waiting for me to tell him that I liked it.

  “Excuse me,” I whispered, sure that I was going to cry.

  “Lizzie—” he started, but I was already up and off the couch, walking as fast as I could to the kitchen without actually running.

  I collapsed at the table, letting the tears flow. I didn’t know why, exactly, I was so emotional. Some combination, probably, of thinking just for a minute that he might propose and then being hit with such a strong and meaningful reminder of home. Of my parents. One of whom wouldn’t even talk to me.

  “Hey,” Thomas said, his hand on my back. Of course he followed me. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” I said quickly, looking up at him. His face fell at my tears, and he reached out to wipe them from below my eyes.

  “I didn’t want to make you cry. What’s wrong?”

  “It was a beautiful gift. Really. I love it, Thomas.”

  “Is this about your parents?”

  I nodded. “It just hit me, when I saw it. But it’s okay, I promise. I shouldn’t have run off.”

  “You should have done whatever you wanted, Lizzie. This should be like home to you, you know?”

  “It is.” I realized how true the words were as I spoke them. I loved it there. Loved his family. Felt like they were practically my own. “I just didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.”

  He pulled me onto his lap, and I snuggled in. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded. “It was a beautiful gift.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I, um, had a different one for you. I mean, I was going to give you that gift last night. And today…” He sounded awkward, nervous. I thought of Bryony’s face, so clearly disappointed, and my heart started beating really hard.

  Thomas sighed. “It’s just…Paul. I don’t want to…The other gift was really, uh, meaningful, and I didn’t think it was right, with Paul.”

  Oh my God. Was he saying that he was going to propose? Was that what he didn’t feel right doing in front of Paul?

  “I think,” I said, my voice coming out kind of high-pitched and squeaky, “that maybe there are too many things going on in both of our families for something so meaningful.” I let the words hang in the air, wondering if I was completely on the wrong track. What if he wasn’t talking about a proposal? There were any number of things that he might not want to give me in front of Paul. What if he meant he was going to take us on a vacation or something. He might consider something like that to be flaunting our happy relationship before his newly single brother.

  “I think maybe we should keep things the way they are until things calm down a little,” I said softly, my cheeks aflame. “Before we, uh, add anything else meaningful.”

  He looked down at my face, and I couldn’t read what he was thinking. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay.”

  “We should go back out.” I climbed down from his lap. “Your family probably thinks I’m rude.”

  He shook his head and cupped my face in his hands. “Right before I followed you, I heard my mum say, ‘Poor dear, she’s probably homesick.’ They understand, Lizzie.”

  I nodded, feeling better. And when we reached the living room, everyone smiled at me encouragingly, even Paul, and I found that I didn’t feel awkward at all.

  ***

  The rest of the day passed in a cozy blur of visitors and delicious food. Thomas’s grandparents showed up at noon, along with his aunt and uncle, cousins, and the terrible children (Thomas was right, they were pretty awful). We ate an afternoon meal of roast and potatoes, finished by a desert of treacle tart. I had never had the pudding before and found it a bit sweet, but I enjoyed everything else immensely.

  We opened more gifts with the rest of the family after our meal. Though she’d given me a lovely sweater in the morning, Anne pressed another wrapped package into my hands. “You already gave me a gift,” I said, confused.

  She winked at me. “That one’s from my own personal book shelf.”

  I ripped off the wrapping and found a dog-eared copy of Venetia by Georgette Heyer. “Sorry it’s not new,” she said. “I meant to pop out right after our chat yesterday, but then the boys came home and—”

  I cut her off with a hug. “I love used books,” I said, squeezing her tight. “They mean so much more when you know someone you loved has read the same pages and loved them as much as you do.”

  She patted my cheek affectionately. “You understand things, Lizzie. About books. I like that.”

  Bryony assured me that she did, in fact, like my present better than all the rest, even the new riding boots from her parents and the hundred quid from each of her brothers. “Money is great and all,” she said, examining the poster. “But you can’t put a price on the gorgeousness of that man.”

  For his main gift, I gave Thomas a telescope, a purchase I had planned for and saved up for for months. When he opened it, he was actually speechless for several minutes before he pulled me into a bone-crunching hug. “I can set this up on the deck at the beach house.” He grinned from ear to ear and hugged me again. “I have another gift for you, too. But you have to wait until later.”

  I laughed and slapped his arm, assuming he was being dirty.

  Over the course of the day several neighbors stopped in to say Merry Christmas and enjoy some of the cookies we had made. The entire house felt warm and cozy, filled with friends and family. Again, I had the same sense that I’d gotten the night before. This might be different from the way my family did things—not quite as loud, not quite as chaotic—but the important things were all there. The love and the laughter and the family.

  But the biggest surprise came later in the night when I called my mother to wish her and the family a Merry Christmas and to thank her for the box of cookies and new laptop case she had sent to Thomas and asked him to give to me.

  “You’re very welcome, Lizzie,” my mother said. “And thank you for the statue. It’s beautiful. We love it very much.”

  “I’m glad, Mom.” I didn’t know quite what to think about her use of the word we. Was that rhetorical, or was my dad actually pleased with the gift?

  “Here,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “Someone else wants to thank you, too.”

  I held my breath as she passed the phone to someone. And then—

  “Feliz Navidad, Elizabeth.”

  It was my dad, his familiar, gruff voice sounding so close right in my ear. I clutched the phone tighter. “Feliz Navidad, Daddy.”

  “Thank you for this statue. It is beautiful. And very thoughtful of you.” He cleared his throat. “Your mother and I love it.”

  “You’re welcome, Daddy. Thank you for the gifts as well. T
he laptop case is exactly what I needed.”

  “Yes, well, I’m glad.” He cleared his throat again. I wanted to cry, to say how sorry I was, how much I missed him. More than that, I wanted him to apologize, him to tell me that he wasn’t happy with how things were, that he would forgive me and we could talk again.

  Instead, he cleared his throat one last time. “Here’s your mother. Have a good holiday.”

  “You too, Daddy,” I whispered. My mother came back on the phone, sounding noticeably happier now that my dad and I had finally talked. She started to tell me all about the grandkids and how much they had enjoyed the Los Angeles t-shirts that I sent them.

  I tried to follow her gushing, but it was hard. Just like with Thomas’s gift that morning, I was feeling the strangest mix of disappointment and joy. Disappointment that Dad and I hadn’t said any of the things that we needed to say. Joy that we had talked at all. After she passed the phone around to my other siblings—save Maria, of course—Mom finally came back on to say goodbye. And then I hung up the phone in a daze.

  When I looked up, I saw that Thomas was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Had he been watching me the whole time? I realized that he must have been when, without saying a word, he crossed the space to me and wrapped his arms around me.

  I didn’t have to explain anything to him, didn’t have to try to parse out how I felt or why. Thomas understood anyway.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time New Year’s rolled around, I was starting to feel slightly depressed. Christmas in Edinburgh had been beautiful, and I had loved spending the time with Thomas’s family. But I couldn’t deny the ferocity with which I missed my own. Christmas was a huge deal for our family and had always been one of my favorite days of the year. It was really starting to hit me that it would be an entire year before I had the chance to celebrate Christmas with my family again, and it was certainly not guaranteed at that.

  We went down to London the day before New Year’s. Meghan always planned something big for the holiday. She spent every Christmas at her parents’ farm in the Cotswolds. By New Years she was ready to “rejoin civilization” as she put it and liked to splash out with a big fancy party. Last year we had attended a really swanky party at a hotel in the West End. It had been nice, but most of the guest list were total strangers to us. This year Meghan had booked an entire restaurant for all of her friends. I was looking forward to it, hoping it would snap me out of my funk. I didn’t want to spend the few remaining days I had in the UK feeling sad.

  I fell asleep in the car on the way back to London, waking up only when Thomas parked. I blinked several times, looking around me sleepily. I had no idea where we were.

  “What’s going on?” I mumbled, looking over at Thomas. He was grinning at me.

  “Remember that Christmas present I said you would get later?”

  I scrunched up nose, remembering that he had, indeed, mentioned something like that. “Is my Christmas present in this parking lot?”

  He shook his head, laughing, and opened his door. “Get out of the car, lazy,” he called over his shoulder. “Maybe once you wake up you’ll realize where we are.”

  I shook my head and climbed out of the car. He was right; I could now clearly see that we were in short-term parking for Heathrow airport.

  I felt a momentary rush of nerves, thinking he had maybe purchased tickets to Detroit the way he had last year. I really didn’t think I could deal with showing up in person at my parents’ house, not when I’d only had one two-lined conversation with my dad since the previous August. But this was short term parking, which must mean…

  “We’re picking up,” he assured me, catching sight of my face. “Don’t worry.”

  “Who are we picking up?”

  He glanced down at his phone, grinning. “You’ll see in about five minutes.”

  He took my hand in his mittened one and pulled me toward the entrance. “Who’s coming to London?” I asked, my nerves turning to excitement. “Is it Callie? ‘Cause I already know that they’re coming into town for the party.”

  He shook his head. “Be patient. You’re worse than a little kid.”

  I scowled but allowed him to lead me to the arrivals gate. Once inside he glanced at his phone again. “Right. This way.”

  The airport was as crowded as ever, and we darted around the returning passengers until we reached a bench outside the carousals of luggage returns. Standing there, a rolling suitcase handle in hand, was my cousin Sofia.

  “Lizzie!” she yelled, spotting us. “Hi!”

  I stood in shock, completely unable to react. Sofie was here? In London? Then she was running toward us, her bag rattling behind her, and my shock gave way to a rush of joy. She was here.

  I grabbed her in a fierce hug, tears streaming down my face as I took in the familiar smell of her perfume. “Sof!”

  “I missed you.” She sniffled, and pulled back to examine at me. “Look at you! You’re all tan, you bitch.”

  “Shut up,” I said, staring at her. “I just want to look at you. I missed you.”

  She grinned broadly, and I could see that she had tears in her eyes too. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  “How are you here? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  She looked over my shoulder, smiling. “Ask your man over there.”

  I spun around to face him and found him smiling at me. “Surprise.”

  “You arranged this?”

  He nodded. “I thought you girls would want to spend the holiday together.”

  “Thomas.”

  He waved his hands at me, as if encouraging me to go back to my cousin. “I just want you to have a happy New Year’s. Both of you.”

  Sofie threw an arm around my shoulder. “I think I can deal with that. What do you say, cuz?”

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. “That sounds freaking fantastic to me.”

  ***

  Sofie talked a mile a minute the entire way back to Thomas’s flat. I demanded that she tell me everything about home, and she took the request to heart, pausing only to marvel at the landmarks that we passed.

  “There’s time to talk about London later,” I said. “Tell me about your parents. And my mom. How is everyone?”

  I wanted to drink in every word she said. Seeing her was amazing, of course, but it also filled me with a strange kind of pain. Sofie meant home to me, and she had just come from sharing the holiday with my loved ones. I yearned for her to connect me with everyone back in Detroit.

  We curled up in front of the fire at Thomas’s flat while he volunteered to go stock the place with groceries. Meghan and Sarra had been taking turns coming over to air the place out and dust while we were in L.A. so it was clean on our arrival, but it still felt strange to be back there. After the Malibu house, Thomas’s small and cozy flat felt downright tiny. But it still felt more like home than the beach house had yet managed to.

  Once Thomas was gone, I leaned in close to my cousin. “Okay, were you at the house when I talked to my mom? Did she physically force my dad to get on the phone or what?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. “No, she didn’t. She didn’t say a word, actually. Which is really weird, since I’ve heard her demand that he call you at least a dozen times and I don’t even live there.”

  “So what happened then?”

  “When she was on the phone with you, once she thanked you for the gift, he walked straight up to her and held out his hand. Just like that. Like he’d been meaning to do it the whole time.”

  “Wow. I was sure it was her doing.”

  “I would have thought so too. I was standing in the kitchen helping with dishes when it happened, and I almost broke my mom’s blue flowered serving dish, I was so shocked.”

  “Crazy.”

  “I wish you could have seen his face when they opened your gift. Your mom took one look at it and burst into tears, but your dad read the card first. Then he just stared at it for a full minute, like he though
t it was going to start talking or something.”

  I smiled. “Well, I was going for meaningful.”

  “I think you succeeded, chica.”

  “So what else is going on at home? You’ve barely told me anything.”

  Her face lit up. “Ooh. We think Laura might be pregnant!”

  “What?”

  My sister Laura, third oldest in the family, had been trying to have a baby for years. She refused to talk about it though, not even to my mother, as far as I knew, so we had no idea if it was an infertility issue or what.

  “Yeah. Get this, she and Frank have totally stopped arguing about their kitchen renovation.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That’s your big proof?”

  “Come on, you know they always fight when they’re stressed about the baby stuff.”

  “We don’t know that, actually. We assume that based on family gossip.”

  “Yeah, well, she also didn’t have a single glass of wine the entire time I was with her.”

  “Wow. That’s definitely not like Laura.”

  “Right? Anyhow, Maria is convinced that’s what it is and you know I don’t like to agree with Maria, but in this case I think she’s onto something.”

  My face tightened at the sound of my oldest sister’s name, and Sofie shot me a sympathetic look. “Let me guess, her highness didn’t call to wish you a Feliz Navidad, did she?”

  “No, she definitely did not. And when I asked my mom to pass the phone around so I could say hi to all my siblings, guess which one just happened to be out the room?”

  “She’s a brat,” Sofie said flatly. “A bossy, controlling, judgmental brat.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. But she’s also my sister.” I ran a hand through my hair, silently begging God to let Laura call me and tell me herself if she really was pregnant. I couldn’t imagine not being one of the first to hear news like that. The very thought depressed me.

  “Hey,” Sofie said, apparently catching onto my mood. “Don’t let it get you down, girl. They’ll come around. I plan to go home and tell every single person in the family how great you’re doing, how happy you are, and how polite and amazing your boyfriend is.”