Excerpt from Everything We Never Had by Randy Ribay, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Spoon. Shape. Tuck. Fold. Roll. Dab. Roll. Stack.
Spoon. Shape. Tuck. Fold. Roll. Dab. Roll. Stack.
Spoon. Shape. Tuck. Fold. Roll. Dab. Roll. Stack.

"Kyle told me they sell these pre-­made in the frozen section at the Asian grocery store," Enzo says after some time.

Chris raises his eyebrow. "Have you tasted them?"

"No."

"You're welcome."

Julia laughs as she stacks one more on the plate with the others she's already finished.

"Don't encourage him, Mom," Enzo says.

"Dapat kang magpasalamat," Chris says in Tagalog. "I had to teach myself because—­"

"Because Lolo Emil is an assimilationist."

"Ah, so I've told you before?"

"Once or twice."

Chris tosses Enzo a clean dish towel and takes his place at the sink. He turns on the faucet and fidgets with the handle to adjust the temperature. "There's actually something I want to speak to you about."

"It's a trap!" Enzo says, using his best Admiral Ackbar impression. A joke to distract himself from the tightness that pinches his chest at his dad's suddenly somber tone. Will this be about his first-­semester grade in history? Did his mom find a new position at a different university? Has Titi Camila's cancer returned?

Chris squirts dish soap onto the sponge and starts washing the first dish. "What would you think about your lolo Emil moving in with us?"

Surprise replaces Enzo's concern. "Your dad?"

Chris nods and hands Enzo a clean plate.

Enzo takes it. Towels it off. Places it in the drying rack. "But you hate him."

"He's my father, Enzo. I don't hate him."

"You don't like him."

Chris doesn't deny it.

None of them, in fact, like Lolo Emil. And the feeling is mutual. He is the kind of person who chooses to mispronounce Julia's name. Who constantly reminds Chris he's a disappointment for becoming a middle school teacher instead of an engineer. Who scoffs at Enzo's anxiety diagnosis, insisting he has nothing to complain about. Who refuses to visit his two daughters who live in California because it's California.

After Enzo's grandma Linda passed away several years ago, Lolo Emil moved into a retirement community on the Main Line and announced that he would let them know when he wished to see them. It turned out he did not wish to see them much.

They finish the rest of the dishes without talking. Chris dries off his hands, turns around, and leans back against the counter, arms crossed. "So, what say you—­in the unlikely event that this thing makes it over here, would you be okay with me inviting your lolo to move in with us?"

"How does it make you feel when you think about that possibility?" Enzo asks instead of answering, a technique he picked up from his therapist, Dr. Mendoza.

Chris's eyes wander to the ceiling as he scratches under his chin. "What will be, will be."

"Yeah, okay. Sure. But that's not an answer. What's coming up for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what emotions?"

Chris shrugs but says nothing. Enzo is disappointed but not surprised. They can talk about nearly anything in the world—­so long as they stay on the surface.

"I may not be his biggest fan," Enzo says, letting Chris off the hook, "but if the other choice is to let him stay somewhere where he might catch a deadly virus, then . . . yeah, sure, I guess I'm okay with it." He sighs. "Utang na loob, right?"

Utang na loob: a debt from within. From the heart. It is a debt you did not ask for and will never pay off but must always try to. It is gratitude for the ancestors who brought you into existence, for the family who raised you, for the community who helped you in ways direct and indirect, visible and invisible. It is acknowledgment that none of us are alone.

Excerpted from Everything We Never Had by Randy Ribay. Copyright © 2024 by Randy Ribay. Excerpted by permission of Kokila. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.