“I think you should go with other people who could…” Tita Gloria pauses. She perks up, looking at me with a gleam in her eye.
“What?”
“Hear me out first, Dom…”
“What?”
“So Sunday?—”
“That’s tomorrow?—”
“Ben’s sister and their family are in Europe, so Ben and I and Ollie and Georgia are heading up to her place on the beach on Sunday.”
“That’s tomorrow, Tita?—”
“In Westerly. In Rhode Island. And I think you should come with us. We’re going for the entire week.”
“I have work?—”
“You work remotely.”
“Frankie has camp?—”
“So she won’t go this week.”
“No one will watch her while I’m working?—”
“We will.”
“That’s a lot. I can’t ask you to do that?—”
“You’re not asking us, we’re telling you. That we are watching her.”
“That sounds far?—”
“Three hour drive, max. You have a car.”
“We just bought a ton of groceries?—”
“Bring them up.”
“Where would we even sleep?”
“There are a million bedrooms. It’s like a beach mansion. You would each get your own.”
I stare at the socks Frankie threw on the ground as Tita Gloria the Tiger Mom somehow wins the Gentlest Parent of the Year award.
“Five years is a long time to go without a break,” she continues. “This is free childcare, free lodging. I’m doing all the cooking. Frankie can go swimming and roast marshmallows in a bonfire. You can finish work and step right out onto the beach.”
I scrub my face, my nose itching and eyes inexplicably stinging.
She notices, then quickly stands and pats my cheek. Like many Filipino mothers of her generation, she is highly uncomfortable with any public display of emotion. I huff a laugh in spite of my mood. “Think about it,” she says, walking to the front door. She pauses. “I’ve known you your entire life, Dom. I helped raise you. I know how much your parents worked you. I think they inadvertently instilled this anxiety to do everything, all of it, perfectly, ever since you were a child, and I see it coming to a head. Your parents are old school Filipinos. All that fear ofhiya? That isn’t right. You shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. That sort of trauma is something that will rub off onto Frankie if you aren’t careful.” She leaves.
Christ. Of all the things she could have mentioned, this is the thing that gives me pause. I know I’m being neurotic. And I don’t like this change to our routine. I’m fine. I’m exhausted, but I’m fine. I shouldn’t drag Frankie on this vacation and inconvenience my aunt and uncle just because I need a break. Right?
But here’s the thing. After my parents went back home to the Philippines, I celebrated. I was free. And then after Frankie, I swore I’d never be like them.
A strategy I often employ is ‘what would your parents do?’ and then I do the opposite.Would your parents go on vacation?Absolutely the fuck not. I sigh. I have my answer, then.
