She switches from smiling to pointing daggers at her brother in a heartbeat. He probably deserves it, but what’s he done now?
‘I’m… going to London,’ she grits out.
‘Really? To see the fireworks?’
‘Yup.’ She pops the ‘p’, shifty as anything.
‘You know,’ Tiago has a taunting smile on his face, ‘Nyla’s going to be in London over New Year’s, right Jules? You should totally call her.’
There’s a thump under the table and Tiago winces.
Do they think I’m an idiot? I know she and Nyla fancy each other, and have done since pretty much the first time they met. Of course, Nyla’s never said anything outright. She’s not the kind of person to move boldly and loudly. She has, however, dropped little hints over the last few months. Isa has pretty hair; Isa’svery kind; I’m going to have dinner with Isa; Isa’s great at chess; Colombia sounds like a nice place to go on holiday. I know she’s going to the New Year’s Eve fireworks with some friends, but I didn’t know she meantthisfriend.
For the sake of Tiago’s shins, I’ll play along. ‘You should message her, Isa. I’m sure she’d love to see you.’
Isa’s very still, reading every ounce of what I’ve said. I meant it. Give Nyla time and she’ll come around.
I haven’t been a fan of Christmas for years – it’s hard when you’re missing the main architect in your family – but this is a million miles away from my Christmas. Bitterly cold, quiet, daytime TV, Dad going for a nap. I didn’t know people celebrated like this. I didn’t know there were families like this. I don’t feel like I have to perform or explain or squeeze myself to fit in. I can just be.
I watch Tiago’s mum hold court amongst the aunts and abuelas. She’s so different from my mum – loud, enigmatic, and flashy – but watching her makes me miss mine more. She was our breadwinner, organiser, therapist, travel agent, cook, teacher, hairdresser, career advisor. My dad was away so much it often felt like I was raised by a single parent. And when she got sick, everything sort of stopped. My dad couldn’t or wouldn’t fill the void. I don’t think he knew how.
I feel her absence all the time, and celebrations like this especially so. But being here makes it a little easier to swallow. New people, new places, new traditions.
Tiago’s hand covers mine, his thumb running gently over the back. ‘You miss your mom, huh?’ His ability to read my mind’s scary, and he’s getting better at it almost every day.
I nod, not taking my eyes off Mrs Cabrera telling a story I patchily understand, all jangling jewellery and exaggerated expressions. ‘She would’ve loved you.’
‘You think?’
My gaze drops. ‘She would’ve hated to see what I became. Boxed in and uptight and scared. You cracked me open.’
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I would’ve loved to meet her.’
‘We know you’re a long way from home,’ Marcela cuts in as the plates are being swept away, ‘so we got you some British traditions to help make it feel more like Christmas.’
I’m close to crying when she drags a box from under the table and holds up a pack of six crackers, tied with little red bows. Thisfamily. Tiago’s hand doesn’t move from mine and it keeps me anchored.
I blink away tears and focus on the matter at hand like it carries national importance: teaching them what to do. You pull the cracker, wear the hat, tell the joke, and play the tiny game.
Isa cackles from under her too-big hat as she scoops out her game. ‘I have mini cards!’
‘Keep those away,’ Tiago chuckles, ‘it’s too early in the relationship to test our competitiveness.’
‘Why?’ I arch an eyebrow. ‘You scared I’ll win?’
‘Oh I’m not scared.’
‘I mean, it kind of looks like you are.’
He sits up straighter. ‘You wanna do this? Here?’
‘Settle down you two, you’ll scare theniños,’ Marcela chastises through a giggle.
Tiago pecks my cheek with a smirk and drinks his water.
‘I thought you had a present for me,’ I whisper. Better to get it over with.
His smirk deepens into his glass. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.’
