Free Fresh Off the Boat by Melissa de La Cruz Page A

discussion on his favorite topic. Also known as “WHAT THE ARAMBULLO FAMILY WOULD DO IF WE EVER WON THE LOTTERY.” Dad loved to fantasize about what our life would be like if we ever hit lotto (he pronounced it “ladda” in an attempt at an American accent). He continued to buy a lottery ticket every day and never failed to check the numbers in the newspapers in the mornings. If the jackpot was over fifty million dollars,he upped his ante to five.
    “I think I’ll buy a car. A Denali. What do you think, Mom? Or should we get a Lexus again? Or maybe a Beamer this time?”
    He sipped his coffee and a faraway look of happiness settled in his eyes. “What about you, girls? What would you do, Brit?”
    “I would go to Disneyland every day!” Brittany chirped. It was her dream to visit the furry-costumed oversize mice and the shellacked princesses. Every Halloween since she was two years old, my little sister has dressed up as a Disney movie princess, from Cinderella to Belle to Mulan. Nothing made her happier than wearing a tiara. I predicted nothing but heartache in her teenage years.
    Whenever my family had this conversation, I always volunteered the same intense, feverish wish. If we ever won the lottery, I would drop out of school . If we ever won the lottery, I would never go back to Grosvernor ever again . I could do whatever I wanted. We would be millionaires, so I wouldn’t even need an education.
    Mom never participated in these discussions. She didn’t approve. I had a feeling she thought they were silly.
    “What would you do, Mom?” Brittany and I asked, badgering her like we always did to tell us her heart’s desire. “Tell us what you would do if we won lotto!”
    “Ah, who knows? Why think of it? We’ll never win.”
    “Don’t say that!” the three of us chorused, scandalized. Dadlooked hurt. It was pure blasphemy. Brittany and I always believed everything our father told us. He would make it come true, he would. Dad would find a way. Someday we’d be rich again, and live happily ever after. Dad would buy his Lexus, Brittany would ride It’s a Small World till she puked, I would be excused from having to attend high school, and Mom—Mom would get to do whatever it was she never told us she wanted to do.
    The next evening I was still dreaming of my new life as an Olsen twin as I popped in the tapes for the night’s batch of reality TV programming. How jealous everyone would be of my new Miss Sixty jeans, Tommy Hilfiger tops, and Puma sneakers. Claude would finally ask me out. I would get a cuter handbag than Trish’s. And I’d drive a Mini when I was sixteen, a jaunty red one, like the one Alexandra Arleghetti, the president of the junior class, drove.
    “V, phone for you,” Mom called from the kitchen, where she was chopping pork back for the longanisas. To make a little more money on the side, Mom sold her homemade pork sausages to the few Filipino friends she had made at church. Her longanisas were in great demand. They were salty and sweet, and the perfect accompaniment to a “healthy” Filipino breakfast. Heart attack on a plate, Dad called it.
    “For me?” I asked. It must be a mistake. Nobody ever calledme at home. Peaches did once, and we talked long-distance for hours. But it was so expensive that she was grounded for two months afterward. I never even used my cell phone. What was the point? No one ever needed to speak to me so bad. The only people who called me on it were my parents, to find out what time I was getting to the cafeteria from school.
    I quickly checked the TVs and ran to the kitchen. Mom sat in front of a large, frozen slab of pork fat, kneading and warming it up so she could chop it into small pieces. It was hard work, and her hands alternately froze from the cold or turned red from the effort of running a knife through the thick skin. The pork fat felt like dry ice to the touch—so cold it burned. It caused blisters and frostbite. After chopping, she added it