Page 69 of Something in Between

“I’m going to see some of my cousins tonight,” she tells me. “That’s very sweet of you to bring Royce a gift.”

“Thanks,” I say. “He’s sweet to me too.”

Just then the front door opens. I jump a little, especially when I realize it’s Royce’s mother. She doesn’t see me right away.

“Maria, is that one of your relatives outside?” she says as a driver follows her inside and places two suitcases against the wall. “I thought you were staying until five this afternoon?”

Why does Maria have to work on Christmas? And why is Mrs. Blakely home? It’s Christmas Day. Why isn’t she in Aspen with Royce and Mr. Blakely? What about Mason and Olivia?

“I am staying until then, Mrs. Blakely,” Maria says. “Shall I bring up your bags?”

When Mrs. Blakely looks up, she sees me and raises an eyebrow. “Jasmine? Dear, I wasn’t expecting you. Merry Christmas. You and Maria must have a lot to talk about.”

I’m not sure what she means, other than maybe she thinks, because we’re both Filipino, we’d have a lot to talk about no matter what. It makes me squirm, but I ignore her raised eyebrow and smile. “Thank you. Merry Christmas. I was just dropping off a gift for Royce,” I say, pointing to the package on the table. “I hope you had a nice time in Aspen.”

“IdreadAspen every year. Thank God it’s over for now,” she says. “I can’t stand all the cold and being cooped up inside, and I’m not much of a skier. I’m guessing you’ve never been to the snow though. Is that your father outside?”

“It is,” I say, slightly hurt by her comment. Sure, I’ve never seen snow fall, but I went tobogganing with friends at Big Bear in eighth grade. It was one of the greatest times of my life, but I decide it’s better to play the innocent young (and poor) girlfriend of her son. “Yes. I shouldn’t keep Dad waiting,” I say, thinking how funny it would be if I said we still had to go catch and pluck chickens for our Christmas dinner (which we don’t; it’s a joke but I’m sure she’d believe me). “I hope you have a good rest of your holiday.”

“Please,” she says, “don’t be a stranger.” She turns to Maria. “Be a darling and help me with my bags, then you can have the rest of the day off. I need to deal with this mess Mason has made of his finals. We just got notice that USC has put him on academic probation again. Apparently he hasn’t been going to his classes for weeks.”

Mrs. Blakely heads up the grand stairway that curves gracefully up from the foyer. Maria picks up both bags. “Just give me a minute, Jasmine, then I’ll take you up to Royce’s room. You can put the gift there yourself,” Maria says. “That way Mason won’t open it.”

Why would his older brother open a present that’s clearly not meant for him?

“I can help you with the bags,” I offer.

“No. That’s all right. I’ll be right back.”

Maria drags the suitcases up the stairs and disappears for a few minutes.

I stay where I am, feeling a bit awkward to be alone in Royce’s house without him. The house is lavishly and perfectly decorated for the holidays—I count no less than three Christmas trees, one in the living room, one in the other living room, one by the dining area. It looks as perfect as a magazine spread...and just as impersonal.

“The house looks so pretty,” I tell Maria when she returns. “All white and gold.”

“Mrs. Blakely has it decorated every year, although they’re almost never here for the holiday,” Maria explains.

“Meanwhile my house looks like aparolexploded,” I tell her, meaning the typical Filipino Christmas star lantern that we usually hang in the window. My parents tend to decorate in the typical red and green. Our house is so full of tinsel, you can’t leave without being covered in it.

We laugh. “Do you like working here?” I can’t help but ask. I’m most likely overstepping, but I’m curious.

“Oh yes, they’re very good to me. But Mr. Blakely is gone a lot. Mrs. Blakely has her work. Mason is...” Maria pauses, thinking of what to say. “Mason is Mason. I worry about Royce and Olivia. They seem to be the ones keeping this family together.”

“Why would Mrs. Blakely leave her children on Christmas Day? Are Mason’s gradesthatimportant? What’s she going to be able to do about it on Christmas?”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason she came home,” Maria says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Mrs. and Mr. Blakely haven’t had the easiest time since he became house majority leader. They almost never see each other. They probably had a fight,” she whispers.

Right. Royce mentioned his parents were fighting about Mason, but I hadn’t thought to ask him more. I wish I had now.

Maria looks like she’s regretting saying anything. She gestures to me to follow her. “Come on. Bring your present.” She leads me down a great hall on the second landing to Royce’s room. I’ve only been inside once before. Royce likes to come over to my house. It’s easier, since he can drive and I don’t have a license.

I walk in and look around. His room is fairly clean for a boy. Well, compared to Danny and Isko’s room. There’s a wrinkled suit hanging over his desk chair and lots of pairs of dress and athletic shoes that have been kicked onto the ground. On his bedside tables are stacks of books about the military and the history of wars and spy novels, all in various states of being read. I riffle through the pages of a book, stroking its pages, thinking of him absorbed in them.

I walk over to his desk to leave the gift while Maria stands near the doorway. On the desk, I see a picture of him and Mason from when they were little boys, horsing around on the beach. Mason seems to have Royce in some kind of choke hold, but the two of them are laughing. Mason’s only a couple years older, but based on what Royce has said about his brother, they seem so far apart now.

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