Chapter Text
The radio in the car grew loud.
The Rodriguez’s had quite the haul of people with them as they were exiting the Christmas Eve church service. Though not many people from town came along, they managed to haul the three boys and a cousin into the car and out here. It was a White Christmas this year, and the residue of snow on the boots of them all began to melt into the floor.
In exchange for the warm colors and candlelight of the church, Mr. Rodriguez temporarily cut on the lights for the interior of the car. It was a little surreal every year, to suck yourself out of the collective of prayers, hymns, and the overall odor of the church, to then jump right back into the cold, crisp air.
Slipping into the back row of seats, after a seat in the middle row was pulled open to unveil a way in, was Alejandro and Oscar, two of the three boys who currently held the Rodriguez name. David, the third but first of them, brought the seat back up behind the two, slipping inside while their cousin, Jessica, came in behind them.
Oscar began to dust off some snow that stuck to his jacket, an orange puffer one, with a sweater underneath that, and black mittens which he pulled off once he had cleaned himself off enough.
“Excited?”
That was Alejandro, as he also threw his own mittens off. He’s Oscar’s older brother, not by blood, but that didn’t quite matter. They have about six years of difference in age, so while Alejandro was currently a junior in high school, Oscar was 11 and figuring out middle school.
“For?”
Oscar replied, yawning and covering his mouth as he did.
“Aw come on, you’re tired? It’s not even eight, we still have dinner and presents later.”
“You kept me up playing video games last night,”
Oscar leaned back in his seat, laughing a little but being sincere in his claim.
“Well, I’m not the one that was too stubborn to give up on a losing streak of Smash Bros, now was I?”
Alejandro ruffled Oscar’s head, who protested with ‘agh’s, but also laughed about the gesture.
“You guys should be able to tonight,”
David remarked, turning his head around to the two in the back. His seatbelt wasn’t back on yet, but that didn’t really matter right now. David was the same age as Alejandro, though with an earlier birthday. He wears glasses, square, and had a beanie hat still on his head.
“If it keeps you awake. But we have family coming, remember?”
“Your family,” Alejandro specified.
“You two are as much family as everyone else coming,” David added.
“I don’t really talk to them anyway,” Oscar shrugged. David’s expression softened, but not really in a positive way.
“Me neither,” he replied lowly, and turned back around to sit properly and buckle in. Jessica now turned around to talk to the two in the back.
“I heard Mrs. Rodriguez made Ponche?”
“She did,” Alejandro nodded. “If we sit in here any longer, I’m gonna freeze before we even get any,” he and Oscar both laughed about the cold.
“We’re just letting the car warm up, mijo,” Mrs. Rodriguez called from the front. She was the one driving, while Mr. Rodriguez had started a phone call. Chatter began to fill the car on top of the music.
Oscar idly lay his head back into the seat behind him, looking up at the roof of the ceiling. His eyes felt kind of heavy, and in his slumped position alongside the comfortable textures of his jacket, he could just about fall asleep. However, he couldn’t actually dose off, as suddenly he felt a slight shake on his shoulder.
“Hey, hey,”
Alejandro had leaned closer to Oscar’s ear,
“You with me?”
…
The house was moderately packed. The music playing around made things feel fuller than they really were. From a speaker set in the corner of the kitchen, songs in Spanish blared out, while the sound effects and other things from a game of Pokken Tournament, being played by Alejandro and Jessica. Alejandro had a party cup of ponche sitting on the short table in the living room in front of the couches he sat on, still warm after a few rounds of sitting and playing. The older members of the immediate and extended family were sat around the kitchen table, talking up a storm about various affairs. Work, family in America and Mexico, things heard in the news — though topics shifted before things got too heated on that front — and more. David himself was serving himself another helping of food, mainly rice and tamales. He doesn’t tend to diverge from his usuals, despite the assortment of other items across the kitchen counters.
And where was Oscar? He was sat on the floor beside the Alejandro was on, as he and Jessica were taking up most of the space, coats sat in the middle space between the two of them, including Oscar’s. It’s about 10 PM now, and Oscar had changed out of the formal wear from church into something more casual. He was wearing one of Alejandro’s band shirts, a black Norma Jean shirt with a print of a horse and its skeleton, and in pajama pants that were a solid black. He tried to keep his focus on the TV, his head turned to watch the match going on. Though he was looking, that’s didn’t really mean he was absorbing much of the information. The area was loud, but Oscar was still quite tired. He reached for a can of Pepsi he opened some time ago on the floor, and tried to get the sugar to help him stay awake.
David had come around, and leaned over from behind the couch to try and talk to Alejandro. His voice wasn’t very loud, no more above the music and talking.
“I’m going to eat outside, do you want anything?”
“Is there still carne asada left?”
Alejandro asked in passing, still focused on his match.
“Should be. I’d try and grab it now than later, though.”
“Agh,” Alejandro lightly exclaimed, frustrated mainly about the fact he was losing, but also now burdened with the need to get up and grab something to eat. Once he lost with his currently loaded character, he stood up and looked down to Oscar on the ground.
“Hey, can you fill in for me?”
Oscar looked up to his brother with a squint, and nodded as he took the controller with his free hand. Alejandro ruffled his head again, saying a quick ‘thanks’, and speed walking into the kitchen. David hung around, both to make sure Oscar was able to stand up, and to ask him a similar question.
“Do you want anything?”
“Mm, what is there again…?”
Oscar put his can of soda on the table in front of him, next to Alejandro’s drink, and started to feeling the controller in his hands while trying to select a character for the next match.
“There’s still a lot of tamales, there’s chicharrones, pozole de puerco, caldo—,”
“With… pollo, or… beef?”
Oscar squinted as he now accepted a match to start.
“Beef.”
“And what else…?”
“Jessie’s mom brought a chocoflan, but you should eat something before that. There’s uh- frijoles, the creamy ones, Alejandro is getting carne just by itself, and there’s salsa for it, uh… rice, y tambien tienen…”
David paused to think, but also to get a small fork’s worth of tamale that’s been sitting on his plate,
“I think that’s it,” he continued after a swallow.
Oscar was half paying attention to the list. The game was helping to keep him awake, alongside the sugar he took in, but he still felt kind of tired.
“Uh… I just want pozole.”
“Con lechuga? Cebolla?”
Oscar shook his head, “solo la sopa…”
Again, he yawned, and hardly noticed David leave. Jessica hadn’t made much commentary up until now.
“You play better than your brother, and you’re half asleep?”
She scoffed. Alejandro probably isn’t appreciating losing to a girl. Maybe that’s why Oscar hadn’t heard him say much.
“He fights better for real,” Oscar idly commented. “He does boxing.”
“I heard. Heard he’s one of the best of his group. Ever seen him fight?”
“Sometimes. He comes to see me at my games more than I see his.”
“Well maybe, he can see you kicking my butt,” Jessica’s voice slowly grew quiet as she let go of the idle chat.
“I think he still just button mashes,” Oscar cheekily remarked, “but I know what I’m doing.”
By the time Alejandro came back, he found Oscar having beat Jessica, silently raising the controller in the air in victory.
“Shit, look at that! You got beat by a middle schooler,” Alejandro mocked.
“Agh, whatever! I already kicked your ass a couple of times.”
Oscar knew that she was about Alejandro’s age, so them talking this way made sense.
“And yet he’s half asleep, and kicked yours. C’mon,”
Alejandro put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder.
“David has your food outside.”
“Outside?”
…
The two boys had met David outside, on a slightly snowy, roofed porch. There had been a cover on the table prior, but he threw that to the side with all of the snow that packed on top. He also made the effort to dust the chairs as much as he could of the snow, but Alejandro felt a wet spot or two as he sat down in one. Oscar had to grab a jacket for himself, the same one he used earlier today, in order to sit out there and eat. A porch light was on, glowing yellow, as steam emitted from Oscar’s bowl. Alejandro had went back inside briefly to grab both himself and Oscar some more ponche and a bottle of water that’s at least room temperature.
“Sorry, I just didn’t wanna be inside. Too loud. Eating in a room was out of the question, too, my—,”
“Yeah, yeah,” Alejandro bobbed his head, “your mom said no crumbs and stuff.” He helped himself to a tortilla and piece of carne, ripping off a small chunk off of the larger piece he grabbed with his teeth. Oscar got a spoonful of his soup with some meat and hominy, blowing on it a couple of times before eating.
“Any uhm,” David started, though chewing into another fork’ worth of tamale, “hopes for Christmas? Gifts, wishes?”
“It’s just whatever your parents buy us,” Oscar shrugged.
“Not very Christmas-y, huh?”
Alejandro teased, though his joking expression died down a little.
“Really though, hoping for anything?”
Oscar looked at his soup, the squint of his eyes remaining. At least outside, it could be passed off more like a reaction to the cold than deeper contemplation.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged.
“Surely there’s something, right? I mean- I have books or music I’m looking forward to.”
“Maybe I can get some new clothes. Been needing some for the gym,” Alejandro shrugged, now taking in another mouthful of beef.
Oscar yawned, a visible puff of air escaping him in the cold.
“I just- I feel like Charlie Brown a little.”
“Charlie Brown?”
Alejandro asked, mid-chew.
“Like Peanuts?”
“Remember how in the movie he was feeling sad and stuff? That’s what I mean,” Oscar took another spoonful of soup.
“Well, what’s on your mind? You know we’re,” David paused to get a drink, “here for you, right?”
“I guess. It’s just…”
Oscar set his spoon down, deciding whether he wanted to say what was truly on his mind.
“If it makes you feel better, we won’t be like Linus,” Alejandro chuckled. “Maybe David will be more sad with you than me.”
David shot a look of confusion, shrugging as he adjusted his glasses and took another bite of food.
“I don’t think so,” Oscar argued. “It’s- about us.”
“What about us?”
Alejandro set down the food in his hand to pay more attention. He turned in his seat to face Oscar better, keeping his cup of ponche in a free hand.
“It’s been like- five Christmases now that we’ve been here! With- David’s family. And well- every time we’re here, I just feel kind of… weird.”
“What kind of weird?”
Alejandro asked, taking a sip.
“I just feel… out of place. I guess this Christmas, I started hoping for a Christmas with- my family.”
Oscar took his spoon in hand, but the cooling blow he gave to it was what cut through a very strong silence that followed what he said. He put the spoon in his mouth, and chewed before giving a confused look between the two.
“What? Is that bad?”
“No, that’s- that’s fair,” David sighed, taking a drink of water. “It’s just uh… that’s a hard wish to answer.”
“I feel the same way sometimes,” Alejandro added. “When I was your age, and we had our first Christmas in America? I didn’t like it very much. The presents with The Whites was shit,” he chuckled, but that didn’t seem to elicit any reaction out of Oscar, so he cleared his throat and continued. “I guess I was hoping for some kind of miracle from Papá Noel, or- Jesus, or someone. I know you don’t care about church, but what do you care about that helps? That’s my advice. You need… a-a thing to keep you afloat.”
“I don’t know, I just don’t think about it,” Oscar shrugged.
“I do that usually,” David replied. “But with something like- that, I wouldn’t say it’s a good idea.”
“Where’s this coming from anyway?”
Alejandro inquired.
“I thought that stuff didn’t- bother you.”
“I just do other things, or you make me go do other things and not think about it. But- I’ve been feeling more about it now. I’m grown up, I can- want to feel bad.”
Oscar shrugged. Alejandro’s expression seemed to soften, though a bit tender. He looked down to his drink, and took a larger gulp of it.
“I just don’t want you to be too— ugh, too- down about it. I just tried to make sure you were happy more than you were sad about that. It’s not… fun to miss your mom and dad.”
“I don’t quite know the feeling,” David spoke up, “but your brother is right. It’s better to not feel bad about it all the time.”
“But when can I?”
Oscar replied back rather quickly.
“If I’m not at school, or at my games, or with friends, I think about it more! And- even at games, when I see my friends’ mom and dad there, I feel left out! Even if—… Alejandro is there, it’s- it’s not the same.”
His voice shifted around a bit as he explained, and took another spoonful of soup. Alejandro sighed.
“I get it. It- it’s weighing on me, too. But you’re a kid, you should try and keep being happy, and- getting into silly bullshit you can think back to in a few years when you’re our age. Being sad in your room all the time isn’t good.”
“But I’m not just a kid! I’m 11 now, and I’m noticing more than you think I am.” Oscar paused, feeling his tone shifting. “I’m starting to… lose hope.”
“In what?” David leaned a little forward.
“In…”
Oscar lowered his head a little, some strands of his hair falling over his face as he did.
“Seeing them again.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Alejandro shook his head. “No, you will. W-We will,” he added. “It’s gonna happen. Trust me, I—,”
“You what?”
Oscar interrupted.
“We don’t talk about it anymore. I don’t hear you talking with Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez about it anymore. You guys wanted to call the ICE office, and try to see if they have records. Why haven’t you yet?”
Alejandro looked to David for an answer, whose eyes widened while being put on the spot.
“Well,” David started, albeit very nervous, “it’s hard. My- parents work a lot, you know, and- they- they uh, they don’t have the time sometimes. And also… times are hard right now, when it comes to- to immigration, and—,”
“You guys said you’d do it a year ago!”
Oscar raised his voice.
“What’s taking so long?” He pressed even more in his tone.
“Oscar, listen,” Alejandro lowered his cup and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s right. Those people are very, very hard to call, and to ask things. Even lawyers have a hard time talking to the people inside the facilities. Remember? You just need to- let them figure it out. They’d never put it off on purpose.”
Oscar looked at Alejandro’s hand, and then to David, and then back to his soup. His eyebrows furrowed.
“You wanna know what I want for Christmas? Nobody can give it to me. Not- God, or Santa, or you. I want my mom and dad.”
His voice cracked a little, as Oscar stood up and walked back inside. David stood up quickly, sputtering a quick ‘Wait’, before Alejandro put a hand out to stop David.
“Wait, just-…”
Alejandro sighed, looking at the door as it closed behind his brother.
“He’s right.”
“About what?”
“He’s… not a little kid. At least not- like other ones.”
“Well, neither were you. I could tell.”
David added.
“That’s just it, I don’t- want Oscar to be like me in that way.”
“I don’t think you can control that,” David sighed. “Same as how- what happened to you was out of your control.”
“Don’t patronize me, David.”
“I’m not! I’m being serious, this stuff is- hard, I’m sure. I promise, I’m not- saying anything I don’t mean. We don’t… talk about this enough. You take the memory like it’s a- a work thing.”
“I’m the one who makes shit sound like work?”
Alejandro scoffed.
“Yeah right.”
“Well- to me it feels that way. You don’t really tell me when you’re feeling bad like- like how Oscar did. When you’re upset, you just tell me to go away. When we talked about talking to Immigration, you worded it like looking into a library.”
“Because it is,” Alejandro replied in a stern manner. “They have a bunch of- records or whatever they keep of people who go in and out.”
“Yeah, but… you never really told me what you feel about it.”
“About?”
“About being taken from your family.”
David replied in a soft manner.
“Or just- being honest about your emotions. You just punch things every week, I don’t know what that could be about. You don’t talk to me, or anyone. Why do you think Oscar might not have been?
“Well sorry, I don’t like to spill my guts every fuckin’ day,”
Alejandro rolled his eyes.
“I’m not asking you to do it every day,” David shot back. “Just- once in a while, if you’re- upset, don’t just bottle it up. Don’t hide from Oscar either, it sounds like- he felt ashamed!”
“He’s not— ashamed,” Alejandro immediately refuted. “Not with me.”
He sighed, taking a drink really quickly.
“…He’s just growing up.”
“It’s better for him to grow up seeing you express yourself about this stuff. If he bottles it up, it’s probably because you don’t share that pain with him enough.”
“I’m the one who bottles things up?”
Alejandro stood up.
“You don’t do anything emotional! You just sit or stand there, your flat fucking voice and blank stare, wh-what am I supposed to do about that, huh?”
“Why is this on me now??”
David threw his hands up briefly, scoffing.
“You’re the one saying I don’t have emotions. I have emotions, asshole.”
“Then show them! Show- him that it’s okay to!”
“He doesn’t have to be this upset about shit all the time! Being a Debbie downer everywhere he goes!”
“He’s going to be if you don’t let him be sad about it!”
“He doesn’t have to be!”
“Why??”
“Because I’m trying my fucking hardest to not let anything be wrong!”
Alejandro shouted. When his voice subsided, a slight gust of wind rolled by them. The two older brothers looked to one another, emotions held back by strained cords. Alejandro scoffed, and picked up his things to go back inside.
“Get Oscar’s soup. He might want it later.”
“Okay,” David said quietly, nodding whilst taking his empty plate and the bowl behind Alejandro.
…
Oscar had put himself up on the stairs of the house. Each step and the flooring was carpeted, a little itchy but better than hardwood. His head leaned against the rails and bars that kept anyone from falling off, as he watched Alejandro having resumed playing on the TV. This time, he and Jessica were playing something, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. He started to scoot himself up the steps, only a few away from the very top, and lying on his back once he reached the top floor level.
The top floor lights were off, with pollution from the living room ones only barely reaching up here.
The Christmas tree down below was quite decorative. Colorful ribbons, tinsel, red ornaments on the white tree, and warmer lights than some of the harsher, fluorescent ones Oscar has seen on the streets or in bigger public trees. The chatter downstairs grew fainter as he focused on the A/C above. The lingering spice in his mouth wasn’t even enough to keep him from possibly falling asleep. Those feelings he shared outside with his brothers lingered with him in his solitude.
The idea of never seeing his parents again was becoming more and more heavy. He wasn’t sure when this started, but it was very raw now. It’s true, he felt it while seeing his friends or his teammates in baseball getting their parents to come to school events or games. He felt a little bad invoking Alejandro as if he wasn’t doing enough or something. He was very happy Alejandro was looking out for him, but it’s definitely not the same. He didn’t want to say it to David’s face, but sometimes he feels a weird pit in his heart about hugging and getting love from Mrs. Rodriguez. He needs a mom figure, that’s for sure, but she just didn’t… feel right.
He shouldn’t be sad on Christmas.
Alejandro always got to see him be happy, and Alejandro usually seems either happy or not sad. David, he can’t always tell, but he gives him a good face as best as he can. It’s very weird to feel this way. Oscar considers himself a happy kid, usually. He smiles a lot, and people at school say he has a nice smile, especially his teachers and at picture days.
Why’s he being a Charlie Brown this year?
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.
Maybe he should’ve just tried to play along.
‘Oh, I want Santa to get me this!’, or something like that. Kids in South Park are cynical, they’ve told him in about third grade that Santa wasn’t real.
He’s not a kid anymore. At least he doesn’t feel like it. If only he could some more. Does everyone get this jaded and sad after you turn 10? Oscar kind of hoped so, but he also hoped for the contrary. Who likes a sad kid?
It’d be nice if Santa could just carry his real parents on a sleigh over here.