Something Complicated

Chapter Eleven: The Family That Grills Together Stays Together

Everyone in the family—and by everyone I meant my granddad, cousins, aunt and uncle from my mom's side—are busy preparing for our traditional last Sunday of the month grill feast. It's an idea by my dad, who loves anything grilled, and it started way back when I was five—or six? Anyway, we used to hold this feast at my granddad's house in Bulacan, but since they decided to sell the house and let him move to San Diego with my Tito Lito, mom's youngest and only living sibling, the location moved from there to here. Good thing our backyard is spacious enough to accompany everyone.

Brandon used to join us because mom has always invited him. That's why everyone in the family, especially granddad, has been asking me about him. Brandon refused my mom's invitation—the first in our friendship's history. I guess it's because he doesn't want to be near me after our last encounter at the party. Well, I don't want to see his face, either.

"Jennifer," It's my granddad. He's drinking orange juice while waiting for the barbecue to be cooked. "Where's Brandon? I miss that boy."

And for the nth time today, I have to tell him "He's busy, Pops."

"Busy with what?" He lifts his walking stick, slightly pointing it towards my parents' direction.

"Your mom and dad told me they haven't seen him for weeks. Did you two fight?"

From elementary to high school, it was granddad who'd usually talk to Brandon and me when we're in a fight. He'd put some sense in our brains, and by the end of the day, we're okay. Though I want to open up my feelings to Pops, I really have no idea how. This is a different matter. It's not like those petty fights we had in the past.

"No, Pops," I look down at my hands to avoid his gaze, or he'll tell me that I am lying. "He's just busy at school. He's a senior like me, remember? He wants to attend NYU, so maybe he doesn't get enough sleep."

"And that's more of a reason for you to be by his side."

A lump catches in my throat as I repeat Pops' words in my head. I shake away the feeling of guilt and sadness and try my best to give Pops a convincing smile.

"You really won't tell me, would you?"

"Pops,"

"It's okay. I understand," Pops hands me a dried rose petal—the one he keeps in his Bible for no apparent reason. "You can tell me some other time. For now, you keep that."

"But Pops—" I try to give the petal back.

"You keep that, Jennifer. I'll tell you some other time what's that for. For now, you take care of it. That petal's precious to me."

"Pa," It's my mom. Apparently, the barbecue dad's grilling is already done. "Come have a taste. Nick added a special ingredient to the sauce. You'd love it," Then she turns to me. "You taste it, too, honey."

And I do. And it is delicious. I can't tell what special ingredient dad added to his "recipe," but whatever that is, it made the pork taste better than usual.

Once I am done eating, I go back to my room to find a book where I can keep the dried petal Pops gave me. I scan through my bookshelf and find my copy of Northanger Abbey. I keep the petal in it and put the book back on the shelf.

I am about to leave my room when someone knocks on the door. I open it to find Jester, with barbecue sauce surrounding his mouth, handing me a letter. I know it is a letter because my name is written on the envelope. And it's in cursive.

"What's this?"

"A letter," He rolls his eyes, his face saying duh.

"Jeez, I know," I roll my eyes, too. If it's something to be proud of, I know Jester got his sarcasm from me. "I wanted to know from whom."