Selene tilted her head to the side to watch Sari carefully, as if Sari’s face held all the answers she needed. Sari didn’t know how her sister did that, but she could see right through her. Like Sari was the most obvious open book. Between their absent father and less-than-interested mother, there were few people in the world she trusted and listened to more than her older sister.
“Okay,” she finally said, nodding. “I’ll hold the lease.”
Selene reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. Sari nearly jumped back at the gesture.
“You’re not alone in this, Sari. You know I just want what’s best for the company.”
Sari opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Of all the things she thought she would hear her older sister say today, it definitely wasn’t this.
Selene released Sari’s hand and took a sip of her coffee.
“This long black isn’t half bad.” She shrugged.
Okay, that was the other thing Sari didn’t think she would ever hear her sister say.
“So,” Selene finally said, smiling. “Baby Jesus. What did you guys end up going with, because the cotton ball baby last year was just sad.”
“Sam claims to have found a crochet Baby Jesus that will work, and she wants to keep it there for next year.” Sari shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t she know how important tradition is?”
“It is, but you know you have to be open to new things too.” Selene’s voice was a little gentle. “Sometimes even traditions have to be made new. Like winning a karaoke contest at the Christmas party with a new partner.”
There was a beat of silence while Sari narrowed her eyes at her older sister, who innocently kept sipping her coffee.
“Who told you about that?”
“Sam babbles when she gets nervous.” Selene finished her coffee and reached for her wallet, leaving too much money on the counter. “And the moment I set foot in Lipa, Ate Nessie told me my old karaoke partner abandoned me for a boy.”
“She didn’t.”
“It was the perfect blend of chastising for not being here and of spreading gossip, which is her specialty.” Sari knew that look on her sister’s face. She found all of this hilarious, but was never the type to throw her head back and laugh. “I’ll see you girls at home. I’m making dinner.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Hush, baby sister, go back to coffee making,” Selene said, and lightly patted the top of Sari’s head before she stood up with not a single strand of hair out of place. “Sari?”
“Hmm?”
“I know things are changing, with Sam, and this. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sari assured her sister with a nod. “I’m always fine.”
Selene wrinkled her nose, but didn’t call her out on the lie, choosing instead to nod and leave the café, nothing left behind but a now empty coffee cup.
Chapter Eighteen
December 20
When the Capras family did Christmas, they did Christmas. Their house would always be decked end to end with Christmas decorations, and their Christmas tree ornaments had origins older than most of the kids in the house. They had set rules for their Secret Santa exchange, with budgets and wish list spreadsheets. But aside from that, there were the traditional events they had to participate in for December. Their parents’ friends, the Dabarkads, always met on December 20, hell or high water. Noche Buena was always with their mother’s side of the family, Christmas Dinner with their father’s side, and Christmas presents were only allowed to be opened at nine a.m. on Christmas morning.
Gabriel knew all of those traditions, had grown up with them. But among traditional Filipino Christmas traditions his family practiced, the early dawn masses nine days before Christmas just wasn’t one of them. Four a.m. was way too early, and while the food for sale was excellent, coordinating an eleven-person family’s attendance for nine days straight was too much drama.
But when Sari asked Gab to go with her, he realized that the timing wasn’t as bad as he thought. Mostly because he was already supposed to be at the bakery anyway. What surprised him, however, was a sudden voice call over Messenger from an unexpected sibling.
“Are you even listening to me, Kuya?” an exasperated voice asked from the other end of the line.
“I hang on to your every word, as always, Roselia,” he said, using his nickname for her just so she knew he was still paying attention before he yawned.
“Kuya, I wish you would stop calling me by a Pokémon’s name.”
“Technically,” he yawned again. “Roselia is a kind of Pokémon. You are totally within your rights to call your Roselia whatever you want, but it’s like calling a dog, ‘dog,’ or Bubbles ‘spawn of Satan.’”
“Why are you sleepy? Aren’t you always up by six a.m.?”
Six a.m.? Oh. Right. Two-hour time difference.
“It’s Friday, Rose. My day off.”
She huffed, which made him laugh. Among all his siblings, Rose was the one who called him up most, checked on him, made him feel a little less lonely in his self-exile. Lily didn’t count so much, because when she called, it was always just to ask how things were, if he was coming home. Lily was a no-nonsense kind of sister, and sometimes Gab liked that about her. God knows what kind of family they would have been if he had been left as the only responsible one. Daisy called when there were major family developments Gab needed to know about, like when Angelo got first honors or Ivy burned her hand trying to make iced coffee.
Rose called because she enjoyed talking to him, which he appreciated. Gab had considered more than once now telling Rose where he actually was, what he’d accomplished. But not yet. He wasn’t quite there yet.
“Kuya, are you really not coming home for Christmas?”
The question made him bite his lip, following a sharp inhale. The pain that he’d been carrying around with him for the last two years lingered. At first it was the pain of missing home. Now, it was the pain of feeling too guilty to go home. It never went away and he missed his family so much that some days he just wanted to get into his car and drive the three hours home and see the chaos of the Capras household.
But then going back to Manila would mean seeing his father, and he was just so tired of having to explain himself to him. The man who’d raised him to be respectful to his sisters, kind to his brothers, who had insisted that as a man, he always had to be more. Smarter, richer, more professional and always with the biggest ego in the room. Gab was just never going to be what his father wanted. Until he accepted that, there would be no Secret Santa where everyone knew what everyone was getting before Christmas, no huge present exchange on Christmas morning, no client goodie baskets that they would cook and eat on the same day.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. I can’t.”
“If this is about Dad, I promise he won’t say anything,” Rose insisted, pushy as ever, which was one of the reasons why Gab loved her.
“Dad won’t be able to help himself,” he said, and because he didn’t know what else to add, he continued, “I’ve known him for longer than you have.”
“But who’s going to make the Christmas cake?”
“Who made it last year?”
“You’re going to miss Secret Santa.”
“I always send a gift, you know that.”
“We miss you. Mom misses you.”
“I know,” he sighed. Rose made excellent points, but at the end of the day, his mother sided with their father, which meant she didn’t support him. “I miss you guys too.”
“So come home!”
“Point m’am, I can’t afford it yet, and if it means a fight with Dad, I’d rather stay here than ruin everyone’s Christmas.”
There. Done. Rose knew that when push came to shove, logical arguments were best. She was on the debate team, just like he’d
been in another life. This House believes that Gabriel Capras should come home. Rose Capras on the Parliament side, Gabriel on the Opposition. Opening arguments, rebuttals and points made, but conclusion was, there was no way Gabriel was coming home this year. And they both knew it.
“So...are you dating anyone?”
“Wow,” he laughed. “And the Whip throws the entire debate around.”
“I’m trying to be more sociable!” she exclaimed in the voice that was half exasperation, half desperation, which was Rose’s default mode most of the time. “Are you?”
“No,” he said finally. “But not for lack of trying.”
“Hm. I would think Australia would be your market.”
He could tell her now, Gab supposed. He could downplay it, act like it wasn’t a big deal. I’m not in Australia, Rose. I’m in Lipa. Come see me? I miss you guys. Easy, right?
“I know,” he snorted instead. “It’s almost like nobody wants to spend Christmas with me.”
“Yeah, when everyone’s hot and sweaty and just in the mood for love,” Rose laughed, and they kept talking for a little while longer, about his work, her studies, the continuing saga of Mindy and her boyfriend Javier being icky and adorable, and Lily moving to a new place in Ortigas. He told Rose about the things he baked, how he named a cupcake after her and she asked, “Am I really as exciting as a birthday cake?”
He pulled into a parking spot, somehow managing to find one in the constant chaos of the San Sebastian Cathedral’s plaza.
“Okay. I’m at work. Talk to you later, Roselia,” he said, peering up at the soft yellow walls of the Cathedral, the number of people sleepily heading inside. “And go to sleep, it’s like four in the morning there.”
“I’m going to Simbang Gabi, so it’s fine, Kuya. Have a good breakfast for me!”
He said one last goodbye and waited for his little sister to hang up. He should feel guilty, deceiving his family like this, but some things they weren’t ready for yet.
A blast of cool air hit him, and his eyes adjusted to the bad lighting of the plaza as he locked his car and walked in the direction of the Cathedral. It was cold, thank God he brought a cardigan with him.
San Sebastian Cathedral was the crown jewel of all the churches in Lipa City. It was big, it was appropriately scary, and there were always people there—street vendors selling goods outside, tricycle drivers waiting for their next passengers, a group practicing a dance number or two in the plaza out front, while faithful parishioners said their prayers inside.
Tonight, on the fifth night of Simbang Gabi, the Cathedral was full of people. Some were here to make their prayers, some were dragged here by older relatives, following tradition, and some, adhering to the old tale that finishing all nine dawn masses entitled you to a big wish, were here looking for a little bit of hope in dark times.
He wondered who he was among those people, wondered what he wanted.
As far as Cathedrals and churches went, Lipa Cathedral was one of the biggest Gabriel had seen. The floors of the church were done in gray patterned tiles, which sleepy children were currently using as an elaborate hopscotch board to distract themselves. Rows of archways made up the main mass area, all painted with frescoes to make them look like they were flanked by Roman arches. Even the ceiling was painted with exacting detail, images of saints interspersed with faux molding giving the church a grand feel. Even from where they were standing at the very back, Gabriel could clearly see the silver glinting off an organ at the front, a pulpit made of the same dark wood and silver as the organ. He could only just get a glimpse of the famous dome from here, although he imagined it was made of the same finely painted molding on the inside.
A marker at the Cathedral entrance explained that it had been around since 1894, and before that, used to be located closer to Taal Lake.
“Gabriel!” Sari’s voice rose through the crowd, and bright and beaming, as she made her way to him from one of the side entrances. He tried to kiss her on the lips, but she went for the cheek, and it ended with the both of them blushing at each other like this was the first time they’d met.
He should have just kissed her. He’d certainly been much smoother yesterday.
“Good morning,” she told him while the homily went on. They were late. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. Do you always attend Simbang Gabi?”
She nodded.
“My grandmother used to insist we go,” she whispered. “My parents dumped the three of us kids here in Lipa for the holidays, and Lola didn’t know what else to do with us, so we did every Christmas tradition available. Including Simbang Gabi.”
“Is she here?”
“Lola? Yes and no. She died about five years ago now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Sari shrugged, even if he still saw that twinge of sadness in her face, showing a bit of the hole losing her grandmother had left in her heart. “Sam and I inherited her house two blocks away. I always feel like she’s around, when I’m here. I was named after her too.”
“Sari?”
“Rosario,” she clarified. “Pretty much guaranteeing an identity crisis. My name doesn’t even start with an S like my sisters! So identity crisis and major middle child syndrome.”
“As the oldest, I can’t relate,” he chuckled. “You and Sam live alone?”
“Yup. Me and Sam in Lola’s house. Well,” she said, and suddenly he remembered that she was stressing about Sam moving out soon. Damn it. “Soon it’ll be just me. Me and my terrifyingly small life, standing still while everyone else is moving on.”
“I wouldn’t call running a coffee empire small,” Gab pointed out to her. “You’re not small at all. Not to me.”
She opened her mouth, and he wondered if she was going to argue, but then shook her head and decided against it. He couldn’t help but feel that this was the first time someone had ever told her that, and he hated the world she lived in that she didn’t know that about herself.
“Why do I think I need to tell you these things?” She shook her head. “We’ve only just met.”
“We’re neighbors, that gives us a special bond.”
Sari snorted, and they both knew it wasn’t quite accurate. What was the word for more than neighbors, not enemies, not quite friends but definitely flirting with each other, and more?
“Sam wants to move to the farm.” Sari sighed deeply. The church did inspire that kind of honesty, what with all the saints and statues looking at you. “I thought my Simbang Gabi wish would be for her not to move, but it seems like the most un-Ate-like thing to do.”
“It does,” he agreed, and shrugged when Sari gasped at him. “What? Us older kids are selfish and a little bit entitled. We think we know better, even if we don’t. But what our younger siblings never know is that we’re mostly acting out of love.”
She gave him a sardonic look, and Gabriel liked her best when she was like this. When she knew she had the edge over him, or when she was ready to come back with a quick quip. In moments like that, she was brassy and confident, and he liked pulling that reaction from her.
“I thought you said you couldn’t commiserate.”
“I’m a man of many facets.”
“Sure,” she laughed, loud enough for people in front of them to look at them sharply. “It’s hard. I’m not Sam’s mom, but I so feel like it. I just want her to do what I want.”
“If your sister is anything like you, she’s not going to let anything stop her, certainly not her well-meaning ate.”
“And you know this because...?”
“I have eight siblings. None of them ever listened to me, and thank God, because I’m an idiot, most of the time.”
It came to the point where the congregation had to hold hands for the Our Father, and Gabriel’s and Sari’s hands couldn’t seem to separate from each o
ther from that time on. Just like the song, he thought, hearing the music in his head even as everyone sang something else.
The next thing Gab knew, the mass was over, and everyone streamed out of the church, ready to go back to their beds—but not before having a pre-dawn snack, which was as much of an essential as the actual attendance of Simbang Gabi.
Sari looked like she was as excited about all of this as he was. She crossed her arms over her chest, and he saw her shiver. Without hesitation, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She inhaled sharply and looked up at him with wide, wondering eyes.
“Hi.” He grinned.
“Hey,” she said back.
“So what did you wish for?” she asked him as they headed to the direction of the food stalls, just as bright and awake as Gab was. They walked past the stalls selling shiny turon and hotdogs, past barbecue and smoke, and other vendors trying to capture the crowd’s attention before they went back to their warm beds.
“Secret,” he scoffed. “You know perfectly well that if I tell you what my wish is, it won’t come true.”
“That only works for birthdays.” Sari rolled her eyes, tugging at his hand as they walked toward the puto bumbong.
“I don’t want to risk it,” he reasoned, which made her roll her eyes again. It reminded him of the very, very early days of their meeting, when she seemed particularly annoyed by every word that came out of his mouth. It was hard to imagine getting upset with her now.
“You know when I was a kid, I wished it would snow?” Sari looked up at the dark sky, pulling her cardigan closer to her skin.
“In the Philippines?”
“Yeah. I had zero concept of how cold it had to be for it to snow. I remember looking up at a sky just like this, fully believing it would snow on Christmas.” She was smiling as she looked up at the starry sky, and Gabriel could almost see her, the little Sari, hoping for one teeny tiny snowflake. “It felt cold enough, and I thought that if I wished for it hard enough, snowflakes would start falling from the sky.”
Her smile faded then, as if she felt bad for the child that was let down one more time. Gabriel wished he could take that sadness away from her. That for once, someone would come through for her.
Sweet on You Page 17