▪️Tuesday, December 1st, 2017▪️

▪️Chicago, IL▪️

I get home to the smell of something roasting in the oven Avgolemeno soup on Saturday, her famous Chicken Souvlaki on Sunday, and now this? Mom cooking days in a row is as good of a warning as the 'Keep Out' sign Louka has on his bedroom door.

I take off my boots. Still nothing from Angie. It's late enough for the concert to be over.

Me: How was the concert?

[Me: I'm home.] DELETED

[Me: You can call any time.] DELETED

Me: Call when you're free.

[Me: I miss] DELETED

I return the phone into my pocket and tiptoe up the stairs.

"Are you home, Mikey?" Mom's bat-like hearing made it hard to turn my game console back on at night when I was a teenager. But at least she sleeps like a log. "I've made meatloaf and mashed potatoes—your favorite."

Fuck. I turn around and go into the kitchen. She's going to talk to me about something unpleasant—that's the only reason she ever makes meatloaf. Mom rustles up to me, gives me a hug, then flutters around the kitchen, putting my plate together. Maybe I'm wrong. She's not looking like a person who's upset, more like someone about to burst into song.

I'm mid-way through the food when she gets to the point.

"About Christmas this year," she says.

"What about it?" I check my phone for any texts or missed calls from Angie, but there are none.

"Don't think we're changing our traditions because we're not, but we were—"

"Who's we?"

"Louka and me. So, we were thinking, we want to spend Christmas somewhere warm this year."

"Sure. It's a great idea." She's been working so much, and with my new job I have enough money saved to spend on a family vacation—all of us together before Louka flies the coop.

"I'm so glad you're in. It's settled." She babbles, and sparks dance in her eyes, as if I've promised her I'll never curse in my life again. "I'll book the tickets and two rooms at the hotel, so you boys can have your privacy."

"D'you have a place in mind?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Los Angeles as our base. Then we'll plan some trips up and down the coast."

The meatloaf tastes like sawdust in my mouth. She forgot to mention it was Louka, her, and my father making the plans.

"LA isn't that warm on Christmas," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "How about Mexico or the Dominican Republic?"

"None of us has a passport, and it's way too late to get them now."

"Hawaii?"

"Mikey, it's LA. It's decided. I've got the route planned and two rooms booked." Mom stops clattering. "We've had this conversation many times before. What your dad did turned all of our lives upside down, but Louka and I are willing to give him a second chance." She's right we've talked about it too many times for me to try again. We'll never agree on the topic of my father, and I don't want him to ruin my relationship with Mom from miles away. She turns on the water and sets the kettle under it. "You can tell me if I should get you a ticket as well or if you prefer to stay here alone. The choice is yours, but Louka and I are going."

So much for making it look like my decision. I check my phone again, hoping I can get out of this conversation if Angie is ready to talk, but I still see nothing from her end.

"Can I think about it?"

"I'm buying the tickets tomorrow." She turns off the tap and sets the kettle on the stove with a clang. "If you decline and later change your mind and want to come, you might not end up on our flight. You can do what you want. You're an adult, and I'm not about to force you into something you want no part in."

Fuck this. Dad was the one who wanted no part in our lives. I understand that he couldn't be with us when he served his five-year sentence. But he got out for another five, and still didn't want to have anything to do with us. I didn't know why, and that felt the worst. There's no fucking excuse in my mind.

Maybe if he'd moved to Chicago when he got out, we would've had a father who could make our lives better. Maybe I wouldn't have made the mistakes Louka had to pay for. But our father chose to abandon us. I'm not the villain here, no matter how much Louka is trying to make me one. Beast or not, I'm more of a father figure to him than our actual Dad has ever been.

Upstairs in my room I open my PE Structural Breadth Six-Minute Problems with Solutions and try to focus on the numbers. I should be going to bed, but I still haven't heard from Angie, so I might as well use the time to get through more practice tests. After six years at Northwestern, I'm several exams short of becoming a fully certified structural engineer. The formulas make sense, but I'm way too slow at solving the problems to pass the exam.

The buzzing of my phone is all the distraction I need to push the books aside.

Angie: Free to call?

My lungs burn with an unshouted, yes.

Me: Calling.

Angie's smile fills my lungs with much needed oxygen. She waves at me, lit just enough for me to see she's outside.

"You're not on the bus? Aren't you going to New Orleans tonight?"

"Yes, sleeping on the bus overnight, but we leave at midnight. And we are in New Orleans already." She brandishes her hand with a sugar powder covered dessert. "Poppy's treating me to nighttime beignets because we had no time to indulge until now. As soon as the bus is ready, we're heading to Houston, then Dallas for the next two shows. Then we have a day off. Haven't you looked at the tour schedule I sent you?"

"Once." I was going to print it out but that never happened. "Let me pull it up."

December: Houston, Dallas, Oklahoma City, Kansas City, Denver, Las Vegas, LA.

"You're really on the move. Back-to-back-to-back. All the traveling." I scroll though her itinerary for the rest of the tour.

"I can't wait till we get to LA and rest."

LA. I get back to the screen with her face.

"You're in LA for Christmas?" If she's in LA for Christmas, and Mom's set on me being in LA for Christmas, I can be in LA for Christmas. With Angie.

"Fun, right? We get time off between Christmas and New Year before we resume in Seattle. The Whats plan to see their families in the UK, so Mom and Dad are coming to LA on their month-long RV trip to pick me up, drive me to Seattle for us to spend some quality family time."

The bitterness that was ruining my night after the conversation with Mom is going away. Mom might've concocted a plan for Christmas for us, but I've learned my lesson, and if we are going to LA, I'm going to have plans of my own. With half of my paycheck going to Mom for rent, groceries, and whatever she needs the money for, the other half goes into savings.

Three days with Angie, three days without, and there's no reason for me to think anything can come out of this. How will our lives even work with her on the road and me in Chicago? The hairs on my arms stand up. I rub the hesitation away and make my decision. Maybe I'm losing my grip on reality, but I'm not ready to give up.

"Angie, listen." I run my hand through my hair. Once. Twice. Three times. "What do you think about me in LA. For Christmas?"

"What?" she says as if she couldn't hear me. Doesn't want to hear me?

"Maybe we can spend Christmas together?"

"Are you serious?" She covers her mouth with the hand that has the half-eaten beignet in it as if it's possible to hide the surprised expression on her face.

"I'll have some time off-"

"Squeee!" I hear people yelling at her to shut up. "Absolutely. I'll get you a ticket to the show, and that's the week I get a hotel room, so you can stay with me, and we can rent a car and drive around. Or you can probably rent a motorcycle too if you want. I can see us taking 101 to Santa Barbara or Pismo Beach—I've never been that far."

I can see us doing that too. Sharing my childhood stomping grounds with Angie might be my way to make peace with that place. Chinatown. Carbon Beach. The Korean Bell of Friendship I loved visiting as a kid. LA wasn't what hurt me, it was Dad's fault, and I shouldn't blame the city for his shortcomings.

"I'll buy the plane tickets, and we'll see each other in three weeks." I plop myself onto the bed and lift her giggling face above me. I have a plan. The paycheck I get at the dojang has been my budget for the years I spent in college, and I'm grateful I've never acquired any expensive new habits alongside my new office job at the firm. My bank account can allow me to treat Angie to a time together she's less likely to forget. Then it's only three months until she's back to Chicago for good. Maybe I visit her once a month while she's on tour. I throw a glance at Bruce and pretend he winks at me. "We can talk a lot until LA. That's manageable, right?"

Grainy Angie radiates happiness off my screen. "It's very manageable."