Pasko Na, My Love by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EOT Publications

Summer—it was another blazing hot day in Napa. The only scheduled event at the hacienda was a small morning wedding followed by a brunch buffet. After cleaning up, my manager told us to go home. A free Saturday afternoon was a rare treat, and I was happy.

At the cottage, I stripped off my black work pants and starchy white shirt. I took a quick shower and changed into a white tank top, jean cut-offs and my tattered Converse low-tops. I had extra money for gas and use of the Dodge Dart, which I’d nicknamed Lovesick on account of her being blue.

As I headed out the front door, Tita Vida called me from the kitchen.

“Eden, is that you? Come in here. Come meet our guests from the Philippines.”

I suppressed a sigh and quickly brushed my damp hair forward over my chest. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I closed the door.

“Hi, Tita Vida,” I said in my sunniest voice.

She was sitting at the kitchen table with a serious gray-haired older man in a short-sleeved shirt with a priest’s collar. Next to him was a smiling young guy in a Disneyland shirt and jeans. They had the same haircut, which looked okay on the old man but pretty awful on the young one.

“Eden,” said Tita Vida, “this is Monsignor Ledesma from the Mater Dei Seminary in Manila, and this is his student, Nicky Salgado. They are making their first visit to California. Nicky is the grandson of your grandlola Naty’s neighbors back in the Philippines.”

Monsignor Ledesma frowned with disapproval at me. Behind his glasses, I caught his eyes roving over my outfit.

Tita Vida saw this too. “Mabait na bata, Monsignor,” she said, loud and proud. “Eden is a good worker and very polite. She has a bright future.”

“Nice to meet you, po.” Dutifully, I shook their hands and touched my forehead lightly to the older man’s proffered hand—mano po, the sign of respect my father taught me to perform a long time ago. But my feet were itching in my shoes. My whole body was pointed toward the front door, aching to escape.

“Where are you going?” Tita Vida asked.

“Into town,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie. “I need to buy a few things from the drugstore.” That was a total lie. “Do you need me to pick up anything, Tita?”

“No, Eden, thank you, I don’t need anything,” Tita Vida said, “but I think Nicky needs a break from the hacienda. Could you please take him on a tour of the town? Maybe have something cold to drink at Starbucks, my treat?” She stood up and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. Now both the old and the young man at the table were frowning.

“There’s not much to see—” I started to say.

“What? There’s a lot to see. The movie theater? Maybe the bowling alley?” Tita Vida said cheerfully. In a remarkably smooth move, she grabbed my wrist, pushed some cash in my hand, pulled Nicky to his feet and ushered us to the back door.

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