Christmas carols gently echo through the speakers of the café, as Sam sits by the counter, his face in his hands as he stares out the large glass window into the city.

Why, on Christmas morning, would Sam be sitting at the counter, alone and deeply sad?

Amir and the twins were on their respective vacations, Michelle was getting drunk with her rowdy friends, and Leah – she likely sips hot chocolate with a mountain of coconut whipped cream and just a dash of cinnamon (just how she likes it), wrapped in the arms of her boyfriend, by the raging fire at a Christmas party under the youthful sprig of mistletoe placed to catch lovers off their guard. She didn’t say she wasn’t coming, but betrayal still stung.

He lifts himself out of the chair before slumping back into it.

Customers bustle around like any other day, pausing to marvel at the seasonal décor they’d painstakingly put up the week before. The staff had gathered, over leftovers and laughter, to reflect the cheer of the small city coming to life. Leah had led the efforts, with Michelle at her side. Sam and Amir had laughed then, but it was an undeniable fact that they felt thrilled to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

His eyes fall on the couples in front of him. Laughing over steaming drinks, eyes smiling, exchanging small tokens of appreciation over the wooden tables, an occasional peck on the lips – it is intoxicating without someone to be with. Sam turns away to busy himself, just until the shift is over.

Before he bids goodbye to the Boss, he goes to the small staff lockers they have in the staff room and places a small box in Leah’s.

As his father’s car pulls up in the parking lot, ready to whisk him away, he wraps his ochre scarf around his neck twice.

It was that moment when he took destiny in his hands.

But it is now that matters.

-------

Christmas day had always been a special time for Sam.

He dials his mother’s phone number on his phone, closing his bedroom door before sitting on his bed, crossing his legs. It considers his action, going through the motions before his mother’s sweet voice echoes from the small vessel.

“Samuel!” His thick Spanish accent obscures what she says afterward, but her spirit is not lost across borders. Her exclamation is so cheerful that his face lights up as quickly as a Christmas tree.

“Hola, mamá,” says Sam, trying to add a little cheer to his words. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. It’s been so long.” Her voice trembles with excitement. “How’s everyone? Your sister hasn’t called me in months.”

“Carla is the same as always.” He pauses for a moment. “I got a job at a café too.”

“Why a café?” says his mother curiously. “Doesn’t  your father have enough money to carry you through school without a job?” Though her voice is kind, critical undertones break the surface of the tranquil sea, as they tend to do when regarding a former lover.

“Yeah, but…” stalls Sam. “I wanted to.”

“It’s your life, supongo.” She sighs deeply. Sam can almost see her massaging her temples through her curly hair, closing her dark eyes with a bitter smile playing on her chapped lips. “I wish I could be there.”

“Me too.” They hadn’t seen one another since Sam was young, but video calls and phone conversations were almost enough to stave away pangs of melancholy. His father, of course, had little to no idea about how frequent they spoke.

“You’ll visit me before I get old and die, right?” says his mother with a raspy chuckle.

“Don’t say that.” He hears footsteps, surely coming up the stairs. “I have to go. I love you.”

He places his phone underneath his pillow as the door creaks open.

A tall woman with a frizzy bob and a decidedly stylish sweater stalks into his room. Her golden hoop earrings move back and forth as she leans against the doorframe smirking. Her hands dig into her sides as her eyebrows raise at her little brother, cross-legged on his bed.

“Let’s go. We can’t be late to the party.”

“It’s just dad’s friends,” groans Sam. “Can’t I just stay home and eat some food?”

She laughs to herself, the first time Sam had heard her since she’d arrived the week before. “Come on, hermanito. It's the holiday. Live a little.”