The Avila family is picking through the last of the scraggly, cheap-ass Christmas trees at a lot on Pac Highway.
Xochitl and I put on this act like we’re searching for trees in a blizzard on the side of a frozen mountain. And despite the conditions, and despite the lack of actual trees, we’re extremely picky. When we find the perfect one, we mime sharpening our axes and slowly chopping the thing down.
Mami and Papi tell us to stop making a scene, but the looks on their faces tell us they don’t want us to stop.
WED DEC 24 11:05 P.M.
Wendy: Call me?
I’m nervous as hell. We’ve texted quite a bit. But barely talked on the phone.
Half a ring and she picks up.
“Hi, Teodoro.”
“Hey. It’s great to hear your voice.”
“I just wanted to read you something. ’Twas the night before Christmas…”
Ma in her kerchief. The clatter of reindeer on the rooftop. Santa’s rosy cheeks.
Wendy gets into it, real dramatic. And her voice is so full of something that makes me want this story to last forever. But eventually, in a low Santa voice, she says the words, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
“Wow, Wendy. Thanks for that.”
“I hope you all have a good one tomorrow, Teodoro.”
“You, too.”
There’s so much stuff I wanna say, but I can’t.
“I’ll be thinking about you guys,” she says.
“I’ll be thinking about you, too.”
“Yeah, Teodoro?”
“And your mom. Wish her a Merry Christmas from us.”
“I will. And if you hear from Manny, tell him he’s in our thoughts.”
“Thanks, Wendy.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds.
“Teodoro?” she says.
“Yeah?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Wendy, you there?”
“I just want to say Merry, Merry Christmas, Teodoro.”
“Merry, Merry Christmas to you, Wendy.”
“Okay,” she says. “Good night.”
“Good night, Wendy.”
“Sweet dreams, Teodoro.”
“Sweet, sweet dreams, Wendy.”