Feliz Navidad
December 24, 2012
My mother's kitchen is filled with paper bags containing all the ingredients I need for the big night. Like every year, I am the one responsible for cooking the Christmas dinner. I am going through the recipes I will make this year when Carlos enters the kitchen and kisses my cheek.
"Good morning," he says, grabbing an alfajor and eating it.
"Hey, that's for dinner," I scolded, tapping his hand with a wooden spoon.
"I know," he replied, leaning against the counter. His expression is serious and distant, and I know what is coming, just like every year. "I'll be working at the company today. You know we're swamped with orders and need all the help we can get."
"Of course, I know," I said, trying to smile.
"Well, then I better get going," Carlos says, kissing me and leaving.
I watched my husband walking towards the door, looking downcast. At another time, I would have argued with him about going to work instead of being with us at such an important moment, but I know how this time of year affects Carlos. He lost his parents in a car accident when he was 16, so this time of year is the hardest for him, and he throws himself even more into his work. I take a deep breath and return to my work.
***
I place the stuffed turkey in the center of the table, surrounded by various dishes such as poultry, seafood, roasted lamb, pelota soup, wine cakes, butter cookies, polvorones, alfajores, pastries, marzipans, "quesadillas" - almonds covered in sugar - and "turrones," which are made of a mixture of honey and almonds. There's also the famous Tronco de Natal, a dessert made with mascarpone cheese, Nutella, amaretto, and sugar. I took a photo of yet another Christmas table prepared by me.
"The guests have arrived," my mother announced, stopping beside me and admiring the table. "You've outdone yourself this year."
"Thank you," I replied proudly.
"Speaking of that, what time is Carlos coming?" my mother asks, worried.
"Well," I started, looking at my wristwatch. "It's nine o'clock; he should be here by now. He must have a lot of orders this year."
"Or maybe he's avoiding the family like he does every year," grumbles my father as he enters the kitchen, placing the cava, our local sparkling wine, on the table. "Either way, it's good that he's not late."
"Believe me, he'll be here," I retort, a little annoyed.
The guests keep arriving, bringing some presents for the occasion. We don't exchange gifts on Christmas; we do it on January 6th, the Three Kings' Day, when Melchior, Gaspar, and Balthazar, the three wise men, bring presents for everyone, just as they did for Baby Jesus. I remember writing my letter to them, asking for the gifts I wanted to receive on the morning of January 6th.
On the night of January 5th, the Three Kings Parade fills the streets with joy. The kings ride on horses, camels, or elaborately decorated floats and throw small gifts and candies to the children lining the streets to greet them. On this night, my family and I would gather to eat the desired "roscón de Reyes," a ring-shaped cake with dried fruits that can be filled with cream and contains a hidden figurine representing Baby Jesus. Finding the figurine brings good luck and the person who finds it is responsible for paying for the treat. After eating the "roscón," my sister and I would leave food and drink for the Kings and their camels, along with our shoes at the door, before going to sleep, so that the Kings would know how many children lived in the house.
The next morning, we would run to the living room, where we would find the long-awaited presents, along with the empty plates and glasses. I used to get nervous, as I was never a well-behaved child, and in our tradition, if we behave well throughout the year, we receive presents; if we were terrible, which I usually was, we get coal. But it's sweet coal that comes in a package, representing that the child needs to change their behavior and be good to receive presents next year. Needless to say, I hold the record for receiving coal, while my sister always gets presents. This year, Juan will receive a present, even though my parents think he deserves coal, as he's very much like me.
"I'm home!" announced my husband as he entered the room. He kisses me, holding a gift under his arm. "We forgot this at home."
"Juan's Three Kings' Day present," I reminded him, taking the gift. "I'll put it in his room."
"What's that in your hand?" my mother asks, approaching. "Please don't tell me..."
"This is Juan's Three Kings' Day present that we're giving him today," I explained.
"But this is absurd!" exclaims my mother, irritated.
"I know. If it were up to you, he'd get coal. You've told me that many times. But he's my son, and we know what's best for him."
"I'm not talking about the coal, although I still think he deserves it, but the fact that you're dishonoring the tradition."
"We're not," I retorted. I looked at my husband, and we decided not to tell my family that he has to leave on the first, but now with what's happening, we have no choice but to reveal it. "Carlos needs to go to Lisbon on the first, so we'll anticipate Juan's Three Kings' Day so that he can enjoy this time to the fullest."
"Choosing your work over your family, again..." my mother commented. She takes a deep breath and walks away, upset.
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