I scrape the food into the trash.
“Dammit,” my dad says hotly under his breath and the shake of his head. “You’re really saying that there’s nothing we can do to help? There has to be something.”
I wish, more than anyone, that I could snap my fingers and make everyone see what I see. Just for a moment. I’ve always known there are so many lenses and filters and views.
Even the docuseries that I film can be interpreted a thousand different ways by a thousand different set of eyes.
“It’ll take time for public perception to shift, if it does,” I explain, washing dirty dishes. “The best thing to do is to just wait it out.”
“Susmaryosep,” my mom exclaims with a hand to her forehead. She basically said Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel. “I’m okay, Mama.”
She hugs me. “I love you, Jun-Jun. We love you so, so much.”
Her maternal warmth is something I didn’t realize I needed. My chest floods, and I hug back. I thought, initially, that they were here to fight for my job.
But it feels more like they’re here just for me.
Jesse comes over to help clean. He grabs the walis, a Filipino broom, and sweeps up coffee grounds on the floor. I have a suspicion my brother could tell I’ve been overwhelmed. So he called in reinforcements.
The Highland family. We might not be famous, but we’re tight.
When my mom finally sits, sinking down next to my dad, he hugs her to his side. She says, “I liked you working with those families, but now I don’t know anymore.”
“Is that why you haven’t touched the water?” I point to the PuraFons water bottles I gave my parents when I first got here. PuraFons is a Fizzle product like how Dasani is to Coca-Cola.
And Fizzle is essentially what connects all the famous families together.
My dad opens his hands like he’s being peaceful, but his words are heated. “We don’t feel the need to support them if they’re not helping you.”
“They are helping,” I say with a strained breath. “Moffy and Jane are doing everything they can so the execs don’t fire me, and I can’t even tell you how many of them have posted pics and stories of me and Oscar on their Instagram.”
My mom sniffs, then takes both water bottles. Giving one to my dad.
“Why isn’t it working then?” he asks, unscrewing his water bottle. “Why the vitriol towards you?”
“Because,” I tell him, “sometimes people grip so hard onto the concept of hate that they can’t let go for two seconds to even try to love.” They want to hate something.
Someone.
I am that someone right now.
Those are words I’ve said before. I’ve said them to Maximoff Hale. Trying to ease his hot-temper and frustration. Therapy with Jack Highland.
I crack a smile at the memory because it’s a good one. He got what I said because he felt that already. Understanding is powerful. Feeling understood. Feeling heard.
We hugged at the end, and I felt closer to someone. Looking back, I think I needed those deep, powerful connections just as much as Moffy and Jane did.
Standing among my loving family, thinking about loving friends that I’m certain now that I have, and picturing the guy I’ve fallen in love with—that helps ease some of the pressure.
Hang onto the love.
I reach for my phone. “I need to call Osc—” A knock raps the door. I just have a feeling it’s him. Who else would be here this early?
I whip open the door to see Oscar’s deep, urgent concern on the other side.
A Secret about Oscar Oliveira: He’s in love with me.
“Are you alright?” he asks the same time I say, “I’m sorry.”
We’re suddenly hugging in the doorway.
I explain what happened in a soft breath against his ear.
He cups the back of my head. I wipe leaking emotion from my eyes. Spent. Fuck, I’m so spent. We kiss, and I tell him, “I’ll introduce you.”
Shutting the door behind us, I motion to my parents who stand up. “Mama, Dad, this is Oscar.”
He goes to my mom first. “I’m glad I can finally meet you two. Sorry, I’m not…wearing a shirt, Mrs. Highland. I ran out.”
He ran out for me.
That fast.
Partly, I feel badly that I caused him distress, but mostly, I’m just grateful I have Oscar. Even if the online hate and calls for my termination derive from being with him, I’d still do it all again.
“Just call me Tita Len,” she says, then hugs him. I hear her tell Oscar, “Protect him, will you?”
I feel myself smiling. This is new. I’m so used to my mom telling me to protect whoever I’m dating, and I did not think she’d switch that up.
“No doubt, always,” he promises.
I grin wider, and I watch my dad shake my boyfriend’s hand next. “We were just talking about ways to help Jack with the hate he’s getting. You’re in security. You have any ideas?”
“Nothing we haven’t tried already, sadly.” He upnods to Jesse in greeting, and Jesse makes the hang-loose gesture, putting aside the walis.
Oscar’s radio goes off.
The air could snap as he touches his earpiece. We’re all quiet, but for different reasons. They’re curious about his job, and I’m thinking, he’s gone, dude.
Charlie is on the move, and I can’t follow with a camera for Born into Fame. Not right now. I need to stay with my parents.
Oscar wears his sadness, then apologizes to my parents, says quick goodbyes, but before he leaves, we wrap our strong arms around each other and hold tight for an extended beat.
He kisses my temple, my forehead, my jaw, my lips, and against my ear, he whispers, “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.”
“You don’t need to. This was enough.” It meant everything that Oscar even showed up. He could’ve been pissed that I
