Marlow stared at Mom. She let the wait for her answer linger a little too long and then blurted, “Sure did.” She hugged Mom, tighter this time.
“Please don’t let minors go to stores alone. Got that, ma’am?”
Mom nodded.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes,” she sputtered.
He studied her for a bit and then slowly nodded. “All right. You ladies have a safe night, then.”
She didn’t wait for him to walk away. She grabbed our hands and took us to the Jeep, buckled us in, and peeled out of the parking lot.
No one said anything on the ride home.
CHAPTER 17
ISLA
1996
I kicked my legs behind me and sucked on another chocolate-covered cherry. The green cellophane crinkled as I dipped my fingers in the half-wrapped box for another. The Sound of Music was playing on television, and I tilted my head back and forth to Julie Andrews’s singing. The thrill of Christmas morning—wrapping paper flying everywhere and chaos over who was going to open what present first—had died down throughout the day. I still believed in Santa . . . sort of. It was the kind of feigned enthusiastic belief that helped me stay a kid in the eyes of my parents.
The early-winter darkness seemed to have swept away the magic of the day. We were all let down after so much hype and preparation.
Marlow scooped in next to me and took a chocolate. She bit into the hard shell and slurped out the cherry juice.
“Who got these for us?” she asked.
“Ada and Sawyer. They dropped them off last night.”
“Want to play with my American Girl doll?”
“Who, the Samantha one?”
“Yes. She came with a tea set and little petit fours just like in the book!”
I stared back at the screen. Maria had changed into a blue silk dress and was dancing with Captain von Trapp.
“I want to finish the movie.”
Mom and Dad sat nestled in the couch. She had her head in his lap and he stroked her hair while he went between watching the movie and reading the new autobiography she got him. This one was about Nelson Mandela.
Moni peeled apples and oranges, legs crossed with the plate balanced on her lap. I loved watching the peel fall off in a perfect spiral, her hands effortlessly working the paring knife. She was always cutting fruit post-dinner.
“Fruit settles the stomach after a heavy meal,” she would say in Korean.
The citrus of the orange woke me up a little from my zoning in on the movie. I took a piece and slid it into my mouth as I went to the front window. I could see Sawyer’s light on across the street, his bedroom window on the second floor to the right. I wondered if he had gotten as many presents as I had. If he and Ada were also watching the same movie in front of the television. If he missed his mom or dad.
The next morning, a fresh powder of snow covered the existing six inches we got right before Christmas.
“The sparkly kind,” Marlow exclaimed with glee as she dusted it with her red mittens.
The garage door opened across the street. Ada waved and started shoveling the driveway. Sawyer came out behind her.
“Jesus, child! Look before you cross!”
Ada adjusted her knit cap and went back to her shovel.
His breath created little clouds when he reached us. “It’s not like there are any cars.”
“Should we go to our field?” I asked.
He bit his lip as he grinned.
Our field was a white sheet. Untouched and perfect. Ready for us to mark its page with our trampling and laughter. Marlow threw herself on the ground and did snow angels. Snow caught in her lashes like lace. I scooped up a few balls and chucked them at her and then at Sawyer.
“Hey!” she said when one landed in her mouth. Her laughing only caused more to melt inside it.
“Thirsty?” I called out.
“Aren’t you?”
She shot up and charged at me, throwing snow that sprayed everywhere.
Thunk!
A snowball hit my left ear. Sawyer sailed another one; this time he missed.
