“Father Melvin isn’t Pa’s ghost!”
Achi drops her voice, explaining things to me like I’m a kid. “Dr. Broso is the absolute best at grief counseling,” she explains. “When I was in college, she taught me all about helping kids and teenagers adjust while navigating through loss.”
I drop the clipboard and face Achi. “Did you ever talk to her?”
“In college? All the time. I did my thesis with her.”
“No, like, didyougo to her for grief counseling?”
She frowns. “Why would I need counseling?”
“Because you need adjusting.”
“I’m very well adjusted.” Her voice is soaked with denial.
“You still have your shades on because you don’t want people to know you’ve been crying.”
She pushes the glasses up her nose. “It’s not my fault I get bad allergies, Nika.”
“Allergies to what?Light?” I throw up my hands. “Do they even allow people scared of therapy to get PhDs?”
Achi and I keep bickering until the door of Dr. Broso’s office clicks open. The clipboard on my lap clangs to the floor when I look up and see Ma walk out the door. “What are you doing here?” all three of us say at the same time.
Ma’s eyes bounce between the two of us. “Oh… you know…,” she stammers, and clutches her bag. “Just making some deliveries. Buns by Beth is really popular in this building.”
Dr. Broso’s clinic shares the building with only one other office—the diabetes care center.
“You’re serving pastries to diabetics?”
My leg buckles when Achi kicks the back of my knee. I shoot her a side-eye.It was a valid question!
“Nika and I were just dropping by Dr. Broso’s clinic.”
I’m about to add that I’m here against my will when Achi says, “The faculty head at Saint Agnes wanted me to provide a letter of rec before they consider me for a promotion.”
Promotion? But what happened to Florida?
Ma shakes her head at this. “You’d think that we’re not a family of Saint Agnes alumni. They’re lucky they have a summa cum laude graduate for their counselor. Your qualifications are enough of a recommendation!”
While Ma gets distracted probing more about Achi’s “promotion,” I soon get what she’s trying to do. I can also tell that my sister is still wondering why in the world Ma is here too—but then again, aren’t these the rules of our family? Downplay things, keep conversations positive, hide what you feel. Do everything that we can to minimize Ma’s worries.
Just like Achi said, if Ma sees we’re okay, then she’ll be okay.
I leave the clipboard with the receptionist when we head out of the clinic, my sister forgetting all about my supposed appointment. Ma says that Dr. Derrick dropped her off, so Achi offers to drive and the three of us slide into my sister’s car. From the back, I see Ma’s leg jiggling and get a closer look at her face in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes are swollen too.
The next question I have for my sister: What happens when I can already tell that Ma’snotokay?
28
Some people look forward to midnight on Christmas Eve to open gifts, but for the Ilagan family? It has always been about the food.
The moment school let out, Achi had me working nonstop. I spent the first day of Christmas break going around the Buns by Beth store and checking which pastries we can take home. The next day, she dragged me on a grocery run. And the next day, she assigned me to be her “sous chef” in the kitchen—or more accurately, her kitchen minion.
While all this is happening, Ma and Achi are acting like we didn’t just run into each other at a therapist’s office. In fact, it’s like my sister has forgotten that whole day existed. Every time I try to bring up Dr. Broso, Florida, or even fish about her hearing Pa’s voice, she barks at me with some new Christmas errand.
I’m actually relieved by the time we head off for Christmas Eve Mass. At least my sister stops ordering me around when she’s listening to a priest.
