Chapter 27

ELODIE

I wasn't sure if I had the courage to get out of my car. I stared at the outside of the brightly colored restaurant, the Filipino flag on full display, and wondered why the hell I'd agreed to this meeting.

My uncle had reached out again. In a fit of desperation, because I was lonely and I missed Mac, I'd agreed to see him. Mac telling me that I should be grateful for any family who wanted a relationship with me had made an impression. So now I was going to lunch with my Uncle Jose and Aunt Maria at a restaurant that was apparently one of the best in the city for Filipino cuisine.

After another deep breath, I finally got out of my car. The restaurant was bustling, and I could hear sounds of Tagalog and English mixed. The smell of lumpias reminded me of my mom so much that I nearly turned around and ran.

"Elodie!" A man beckoned to me. "Over here!" It was too late to run now. I smiled awkwardly and sat down at a table with a man who looked like the male version of my mom. His wife was tiny and gorgeous.

Uncle Jose gave me a brief hug, while Aunt Maria just nodded at me. My uncle was in his midfifties, his hair silver at the temples. He had a big smile that seemed to take up his entire face.But it was his eyes especially that reminded me of Mom. It hurt to look at him, because it made me miss her even more.

"Have you been here before?" Jose asked me as I sat down.

I shook my head. "It's been a long time since I've had Filipino food," I admitted.

"Your mom was really good at making lumpia. Even better than our mom."

Before my mom got sick, she'd make lumpia often. I remembered coming home from school to the smell of fried dough and pork. I'd always end up being too impatient to wait for the lumpia to cool, and I'd burn my tongue biting into them. My mom would scold me, even as she piled my plate with more of the fried rolls.

"She was," I said.

We fell into silence. I didn't know what to talk about, and it seemed like my aunt and uncle didn't know either. I was grateful when our server took our orders, although my uncle ordered for our entire table when I hesitated on my choice.

"Their sinigang is amazing." He kissed his fingers.

"It's too hot for soup," Maria complained.

"It's never too hot for sinigang. Besides, it's good for you. Clears out all the bad juju." He winked at me. "At least that's what my mom always said."

It was too hot for soup, but I wasn't going to tell Jose no. As we bit into our plate of lumpia, I wondered if this had been a wasted trip. Had my uncle just wanted to talk about food? Why had he been so intent on seeing me?

"You know," Jose said, "you look just like your mom. When I saw you come in, I thought for a second that you were Ana."

"I never thought we looked alike," I said, surprised.

"Oh, you do. Doesn't she look like Ana?" he asked Maria.

Maria shrugged. "I guess so."

Jose shook his head. "Don't listen to her. She only met your mom a few times before . . ." He grimaced. "Well, before everything happened."

The familiar anger returned. "After you disowned my mom, you mean?" I snapped.

Jose looked sad. "I never agreed with Mom doing that, you know."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Yet you only just started caring about me now? What about when I was a kid, or when my mom could've used your help?"

Jose gave me a strange look. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

He glanced at Maria, but she didn't seem inclined to assist him. He said finally, "I reached out to Ana when you were a kid and tried to help her, but she wouldn't take any help. She thought I was on Mom's side, I guess. I finally had to give up after a while."

I stared at him, shocked. "Mom never told me that."

Jose's smile was wry. "My sister had a lot of pride so that doesn't surprise me. She hated accepting help from anyone. And yeah, maybe I did try too hard to keep both sides happy. I should've told our mom off, but Ana also wouldn't bend either. They were too much alike, those two."

Our server served our bowls of sinigang, the scent of tamarind making my mouth water. When I had my first sip, it almost felt like my mom was right there with me. I told myself that the tears that filled my eyes were from it being so hot, and not from sheer nostalgia.

"Good, isn't it?" said Jose.

I nodded, because I couldn't trust myself to speak right then.

We ate in silence, which I was glad for. I needed a moment to process Jose's revelations. If what he said was true, then he hadn't abandoned my mom. He'd tried to help us. My mom hadn't had to struggle like she had.

Why, Mom? You couldn't have accepted help from your own brother?

"Why do you think my mom told you no?" I asked aloud.

"Why?" Jose shrugged. "Like I said, your mom was very proud. It probably didn't help that our mom was sure that my sister couldn't be on her own without our help. My sister never backed down from a challenge."

Although I wanted to judge my mom, I couldn't. I probably would've done the same thing. Sometimes you needed to prove to yourself, above everything, that you could succeed. And my mom had everything stacked against her: a husband who'd left her; a family who'd judged her. She'd also been an immigrant, and she'd had to learn a new language, raise her daughter, and work multiple jobs.

She'd been a warrior. I just wished we'd had more time together.

"I took care of her when she was dying," I said, staring at my soup. "It was just us. I didn't understand why her family didn't want to help us."

"I wanted to be there. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I did." My uncle leaned toward me, his expression intent. "But Ana wouldn't hear of it."

To my surprise, Maria finally said, "He really did try. I had to tell him to leave her be."

"Really?"

Jose looked sheepish. "Ana might've told me to buzz off."

"That's the polite version," Maria added, deadpan.

I shook my head, stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry. Mom could be so stubborn, like you said. It was hard to get her to rest, even after her chemotherapy and radiation appointments. I'd catch her making dinner like she used to, and I'd basically have to threaten her to sit down."

Jose chuckled. "That sounds about right."

I finished the last of my sinigang, my belly full, and my heart even fuller. "I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for," I said.

"I would like that." Jose took my hand and squeezed it. "I've always wanted to get to know my only niece."

"She's not your only niece," Maria protested.

"She's my only niece by blood, then."

Maria rolled her eyes and waved a hand at her husband. Jose just took it and kissed the back of her fingers, making Maria laugh.

"How long have you two been married?" I asked.

"Thirty-three years," replied Jose proudly.

"No, it's thirty-two," said Maria.

"Thirty-three! We just had our anniversary a month ago."

Maria tapped her chin. "Oh. You're right."

Jose's mouth dropped open. "Did you just hear that? My wife never says ‘you're right' to me. Ever. This is a miracle."

I laughed at their antics. Jose's expression turned sly. "What about you? Do you have a special somebody?"

That question made me blush like a teenager. Then I wanted to cry, because Mac still hadn't talked to me. Brady had finally gotten ahold of him—thank God—so I knew he was okay. But him going off to Idaho so suddenly, without telling anyone, worried me deeply.

"It's complicated," I hedged.

Jose and Maria glanced at each other. "So you do have someone?" my uncle probed.

I let out a sigh. "Kind of? But I screwed things up. He won't talk to me. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me."

Jose leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. "You know, when I first started dating this one, I screwed up. Big time."

"He kissed another girl," Maria interjected.

"Another girl kissed me ," Jose said. I had a feeling this was an old argument. "But that's besides the point. Maria saw a girl kissing me, and she broke up with me. Told me to go to hell and wouldn't talk to me for weeks."

Maria looked annoyed. "You make it sound like it was some random girl." She turned to me. "It was his ex-girlfriend. His ex! She still had feelings for him, and he was too nice to tell her to get lost."

"Anyway," said Jose, "I knew in those weeks when Maria wouldn't talk to me that she was the one. I was a mess. I tried to forget her, but it didn't work."

I cocked my head to the side. "So how'd you get her back?"

"I went to her work—she was a server—and I begged her to forgive me in front of the entire restaurant. Didn't I, sweetheart?" he said.

Maria smiled. "It was so pathetic. I told him to get lost, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. But I needed him to grovel for a bit longer."

Jose rolled his eyes. "At any rate, I was honest with her. Told her that I loved her, I needed her, and I wanted to marry her. And after she'd made me suffer, she finally relented. And we've been married ever since."

I wasn't entirely certain how to take this story. "So you're saying I should humiliate myself to get my—friend—to forgive me?"

"Be honest with him," said Maria. "And if you really care about him, don't let him go without a fight."

I chewed on my bottom lip. Would Mac want me to fight for our relationship? I didn't know anymore. He'd told me he was starting to have feelings for me, but that didn't mean he still cared.Trust had been so important to him. And I'd broken that.

After we finished lunch, we hugged. Jose told me that he was going to invite me to their son's birthday party if I wanted to come. Although the thought of being around even more extended family was intimidating, I said yes. Getting to know the family that I'd thought for so long wasn't interested in me or my mom felt nice.

Mac, would you be proud of me today? I thought to myself. Because I'm proud of myself.

Even if I couldn't get Mac back, even if I couldn't show him that our relationship had always been real to me, at least I had more people in my corner.