Any Day with You

by Mae Respicio

  “Oh, anak, I thought that’s what happened. Harold confirmed it when we talked.” I can tell by his sad smile that he’s disappointed. “Truly, it’s okay,” he says, “but why would you not be honest with me right away? That’s not how I taught you.”

  “I wanted you to have something to feel excited about with me like you do with Lainey.”

  “Is that what’s worrying you?” Tatang pulls me into a hug. “You and your friends created something meaningful for people to enjoy no matter the outcome. That’s what I call winning.”

  “You don’t need to try to make me feel better.”

  “My dear, there are many things in my own life I wish had turned out differently, but I’m grateful for those too. They all taught me something about myself.”

  “I guess.”

  “Tell you what, let’s still go for that walk. You’ll feel much better.”

  “Can we please head home now?”

  He nods. He puts a warm hand into mine and we go.

  * * *

  I lost, and now Tatang will leave with this as one of his last LA memories.

  Mom walks into the house with Toby, fresh from daycare with finger paint smeared all over his clothes. “Kai-Kai!” He runs to me. His sweetness makes me forget everything until I notice Mom carrying two large, flat boxes. We always order pizza for celebrations.

  “I got your favorite, sweetie—barbecue chicken pizza, no onions,” she sings out. “Well? Did you hear yet?”

  I don’t want to make the same mistake like with Tatang. “Do you mind if I save the bad news for when we eat?” I don’t want to have to repeat my story to Dad and Uncle Roy, too. I’d rather get it over with all at once.

  Instead of giving Mom a chance to react, I run upstairs to hide out until dinner. She doesn’t force me to come down to set the table.

  A little later I hear voices from below. Everyone’s home.

  There’s a knock on my door. “Kaia, time to eat. Come and join us, honey,” Dad says through the door.

  Everyone’s seated, pizza boxes open and my celebration bouquet as the centerpiece. We pass around the salad bowl. No one’s asking me any questions or mentioning Beach Season.

  “We didn’t get chosen for the festival,” I force myself to say. “Sorry.” I bite into my slice and stare at my plate, trying not to cry again.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Mom says. “Whether you made it in doesn’t matter. You still did a terrific job.”

  “Exactly. And you learned so much,” Dad says.

  Uncle Roy waves his hands around with a huff. “Those judges don’t know a single thing about movies!”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, if that’s okay,” I say, and Tatang squeezes my shoulder.

  Mom’s phone rings from the other room. She gets up for it and jets back in. “It’s Lainey!”

  “Elena!” Tatang beams at Lainey’s face on the screen.

  At least now they’ll talk about her instead of me.

  “We’re having dinner right now and celebrating Kaia,” Mom says.

  “Yeah, she made the best film for camp,” Uncle Roy says.

  “Kaia wrote it and did all the makeup and costumes,” Dad says. “She’s got some good pictures to show you.”

  “Wow, that’s so exciting Kai-Kai!” Lainey says. Lainey asks me about my movie—not once does my family ask her about her trip.

  “Can I please talk to her?” I ask Mom. She rubs my arm and hands me the phone.

  I have so much to tell my sister.

  “Is it…is it okay if I go to my room?”

  My parents nod. I run all the way upstairs.

  For who knows how long, Lainey and I catch up, filling each other in on all the time we’ve spent apart, starting with the contest.

  “I loved seeing all the pictures from your movie,” she says. I’ve missed her voice. It perks me up. “Guess what?” Lainey says. “I got you some cool souvenirs.”

  “Is one of them a state-of-the-art digital clock?” I ask, and she busts up.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see when you get home,” I say.

  “How about I send you a care package? Would that make you feel better?”

  “Yes, please! I’d love that.” I feel like I can smile a little. “How is it over there?”

  “It’s different…in a good way. And it’s made me see how we can be from two places at once. Kind of weird, huh?”

  Lainey tells me she’s met some of our extended family and saw one of the lolos we knew growing up, an old family friend here who moved back.

  “Solar eclipse in a couple weeks! Are you and Tatang ready for the sun to go down?”

  I’d completely forgotten. He’ll be leaving us not long after that.

  “Lainey, do you think Tatang will miss…” I want to say the word us, but that’s dumb—I know he’ll miss us. “Do you think he’ll miss California?”

  “Of course he will.” She shrugs. “But now that I’ve seen where he’s from, I get it. We’ve had him to ourselves for a long time, Kaia. This country is a part of him, and there’s a world of family and other people waiting for him here.”

  Even though we’re separated by screens, we can still look each other in the eyes—and I know she’s telling me the truth.

  We talk more about his move, though mainly it’s me talking as she listens and nods and asks questions. It’s almost like we’re in the same room together instead of across oceans. My heart swells, and for a little while I forget about losing.

  It’s Saturday morning and probably everyone in the world is sleeping in but me. How can I when Tatang’s all packed? Goodbye parties and goodbyes are the final things on the chalkboard list.

  I creep downstairs, where Tatang’s at his normal kitchen spot, wearing his pj’s, reading the paper, and eating his daily warm pandesal with black coffee.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  He holds the newspaper up and points to a section. “Look…the Beach Season film festival is open to the public. They’re screening the winning youth movies this morning at the pier.”

  “Nice. For them,” I say.

  Tatang wags his finger at me. “I hear that sarcasm, young lady. Anak, those kids worked hard like you and your classmates did. Let’s go to the premiere to support them. I’ll get us tickets. It says the attire is ‘dress in your summer best’ and I’ve got just the outfit.”

  I’d rather do anything else, but I smile. We don’t talk as I eat breakfast, then help Tatang tidy up the kitchen.

  The doorbell rings and I excuse myself to answer. I open the door to Trey wearing shorts and a T-shirt printed to look like a tuxedo, and Abby in a pretty flowery sundress.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Tatang!” I shout. “Your guests are here!”

  “Just in time,” Tatang says, and when I look he’s already changed into his shirt with the red-and-white popcorn buckets all over.

  “I can’t believe we’re going to do this,” Trey whispers. “You’re lucky Big T is so persuasive.”

  Abby says, “If you ask me, Tatang’s right. I think we should see what the committee thinks a winning film is so we can get some inspo for next time.”

  “Next time?” I say. Tatang will be on the other side of the globe by then.

  “That’s the right attitude, Abigail. Success means learning how to improve.”

  “Go get ready,” Abby says.

  I look from her face to Tatang’s and groan. “All right. Fine.”

  “Make sure to tell your parents where we’re going,” Tatang adds.

  I come back downstairs wearing my favorite Eat, Sleep, Art, Repeat T-shirt with a comfy skirt and Lainey’s old sandals. This is as frilly as I get for something we didn’t win.

  Tatang pops on his fedora, exten
ds his arms to Abby and Trey, and off we go.

  * * *

  Our first official movie premiere has a real red carpet with a hint of shimmer and everyone dressed in their summer best—except it’s not for us. Still, we’re here. We showed up.

  The event takes place at an old warehouse on the pier. A big banner reads Welcome to the Beach Season Youth Category Premiere!

  They stamp our hands with a palm tree at the door. As soon as we step inside I see how fancy this thing is. Waiters in tuxedos walk around with trays of tiny food on toothpicks, and a photographer wearing a badge snaps one of us. There’s a projection screen that takes up a whole wall, and rows and rows of chairs.

  “What do their movies have that ours doesn’t?” Trey nods his head toward a bunch of dressed-up kids near the stage who can’t stop grinning.

  “That girl in the orange skirt lives in my building. She’s in ninth grade,” Abby says.

  I watch those kids get all the attention and it makes me a little jealous. It’s how I pictured what winning would look like, only with us up there.

  Someone announces that people should take their seats. We choose a back row.

  The program starts with intros and how the arts are so important to youth and blah blah blah. The winning teams line the stage and the audience cheers wildly as their individual names get announced.

  Tatang takes my hand.

  He would have loved seeing me up there. He would have raised his phone to take pictures and would have started a standing ovation for us. Now the only thing he’ll remember is how he had to drag me here to teach me one of his lessons about good sportsmanship.

  “I’m going to the restroom,” I whisper, and I get up to leave.

  * * *

  I lean against the pier’s railing and stare down at the ocean and beach below. The waves crash in and out, strong and bold. Today they look tall and unstable, the kind that Dad would probably want to surf but Mom would get scared of.

  I wish we hadn’t come here this morning—it’s only reminding me that Tatang’s leaving soon. Somehow I messed up…big time. I text a few sad faces to Lainey, even though she probably won’t see them.

  Lainey and Tatang are super close, although I can remember once when Lainey felt embarrassed that he lived with us. I was six or seven and she was in middle school. On her birthday she wanted to invite her friends for a sleepover and asked my parents if Tatang could spend the night at Uncle Roy’s during the party.

  “He’s so embarrassing. He’s always trying to tell us stories like we’re little babies,” she said to Mom. “Why does he have to live with us? Why can’t we be a normal family like all the other kids?”

  I don’t know if Tatang ever heard their argument, but I remember Mom got so angry. Lainey told me that no one she knew had old people living with them and she didn’t want to be the weird one. My sister feels awful about that memory now.

  But I remember thinking the opposite. I was the only kid at school with someone at home who knew every good monster story, which I’d repeat to everyone at recess. They’d say they wish they had a tatang, too. Trey and Abby always wanted to come over because of him and he loved that—so did I.

  An arm drapes over my shoulder. “Hello, anak. Beautiful out, huh? Days like this are my favorite.” Tatang looks all around at the sky, the sun…at me. He inhales deeply the way he does whenever we’re outside. “Shall we go back now so we don’t miss the rest of the movies?”

  I look him directly in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Tatang.”

  “For what?”

  “That we didn’t get into the festival.”

  “You’re still thinking about that?”

  How can I not?

  “Winning was supposed to make you so proud of me.”

  “Oh, my dear Kaia, I don’t care about that. I care that you put your whole heart into this. That’s what I love the most.”

  “I guess I also thought…I thought somehow if we won you’d change your mind about leaving. You helped me so much on the movie that I hoped you’d see that I need you here.” These thoughts seem silly now.

  “What did I tell you before? This isn’t goodbye.”

  “No, but you’re still leaving.”

  “Shall I tell you a story?” he asks.

  “I don’t feel like one right now.”

  “Can we play the noticing game?”

  I shake my head—I’m not in the mood. But he closes his eyes.

  For a long moment I stare at him, the smile around his eyes still coming through even though they’re shut. I close mine too.

  The things I notice: muted carnival music coming from the rides, my hair blowing across my forehead, the crash of waves. Everything like normal. No matter what I’m doing or feeling, life keeps going.

  “I’m picturing my happiest memory,” Tatang says. “Can you picture yours?”

  Hearing the ocean reminds me of a road trip we took to Big Sur when Tatang helped Lainey and me collect armfuls of shells. I was about seven or eight. We walked the water’s edge and stopped where the elephant seals gather, piled high, napping in the sunshine. The three of us tried to get near but they started honking at us. We dropped our treasures and took off running and scream-laughing down the shore.

  Each perfect day of my life has had the same things: sunshine, waves, and my family near. How will I ever have that again without Lainey and Tatang? Everything’s changing.

  “Open your eyes,” Tatang says. When I do, he’s looking at me. “You were able to see something in your past but standing right here, someplace else. We can be aware of the past, the future, and the present, all at once. Do you know what that means?”

  I want to know this feeling. I want to hold on to it. If Tatang can go for the more challenging choice after all he’s been through, then I need to try.

  “What?” I say.

  “It means that I am always with you.”

  Trey and Abby stand by my sides. I’m not sure how much of that they saw, but they saw some of it, because they look at me like I’m a stray puppy they want to take care of.

  “Did we miss all the movies?” Tatang asks.

  Trey rolls his eyes. “You didn’t miss a thing.”

  “Yeah. This festival proved that we all have different tastes in art,” Abby says. “Anyway, we’ll get in next year.”

  We walk down the boardwalk in a chain, arms linked, and along the way stop at a soft serve stand. We find an empty space on the sand. I draw a heart and we root ourselves, licking our ice cream and watching Pier Pressure looping around the same way summer comes and goes.

  I focus on the horizon.

  “Tatang, tell me a story,” I used to say. I would wait for his laugh to start, then to spread.

  I’d ask so. Many. Questions.

  “Can a person swallow sunshine?”

  If they open their mouth wide enough.

  “Why is water wet?”

  It just is.

  “Why don’t frogs eat onions?”

  Because cake tastes better.

  What was your happiest day ever ever ever?

  Any day like this. Any day with you.

  * * *

  When we get home I feel drained. As I go up the front walk behind Tatang, a package sits at our doorstep. Tatang picks it up and hands it to me—it’s got my name on it. Must be Lainey’s care package. That was fast.

  I grab and hug the box. Even from far away my sister’s cheering me up.

  Tomorrow we throw Tatang his big farewell. Then, his birthplace calls him home.

  I lost. He leaves. Summer ends.

  Tatang’s going-away only turns official once we’ve thrown a big Filipino party. Mom runs between the kitchen and dining room, setting out large trays of appetizers. The party makes me forget about how sad I a
m, with all the decorations, delicious food smells, and Tatang’s favorite tunes playing. I give the house its finishing touch—a banner on the fireplace mantle:

  See You Soon!

  The doorbell rings. It’s our neighbors. Right behind them are our pals from Ocean Gardens—Harold, Cynthia, and several others. “Joy! Kaia!” says Harold, hugging me and Mom. A steady stream, everyone bringing something—a dish, a pink dessert box, flowers—shouting as soon as they spot him, “Don’t leave, Celestino!” Trey, Abby, and their families come too, and so do my guests—Mom’s students. I suggested we invite them and she said, “What a wonderful idea, Kaia!”

  Some of the lolas flutter about, asking who wants what to eat and bringing people to the dining table. Guests load their plates with Filipino and American dishes and settle into the backyard. Mom rented tables with umbrellas and they fill up fast. Tatang travels to each one, making everybody feel welcome and soaking up the attention.

  Avery comes over.

  “You ready, Kaia?”

  My hands shake a little. “Not really. I’m bad at making speeches.”

  “Speak from your heart.”

  Outside, people finish their plates and Uncle Roy sets up a microphone with a stereo and little television on the patio.

  I go up to him. “Are you starting karaoke now?”

  “You joining me in a duet?”

  “No, but I…I have something…an announcement I put together for Tatang.”

  He beams. “Well, look at you. Go ahead, it’s all set up now. You need an assist?”

  Uncle helps me place a chair in the middle of the patio and I pluck Tatang from the crowd and ask him to sit.

  “What’s all this?” Tatang asks.

  “You’ll see.”

  It’s now or never.

  I take the microphone and stare out at a yard full of people I love. Nobody notices me, so I tap the microphone. It screeches with feedback.

  “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” I say, but the yard’s full of talking. “Excuse me,” I say louder. Faces peer my way.