In one corner of the room, a towering Christmas tree reached toward Juan's ceiling, its branches adorned with an array of Mexican ornaments. Hand-painted clay figurines mingled with shiny glass baubles in red, green, and gold hues. At the very top of the tree perched a sparkling star, its rays extending outward as if to bless the entire room.
Juan's son Carlos was making a brave show of cheerfully opening his presents. Maria was weeping softly on the couch.
Finally, Juan could stand it no longer. "I'm gonna call her," he said gruffly. "She should be here."
Carlos put down the gift he was unwrapping. "I think you should, Dad. This isn't right."
The family was grieving that Sofia wasn't with them. Over the last several months, she had changed so much. She seemed obsessed with one social justice cause after another, to the detriment of her family and those who loved her most.
"Where you at, mija?" Juan demanded. "It's Christmas, and your mother is crying because she misses you."
There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the phone, like Sofia was moving to a location where she could speak privately. "I'm at the Tempe Beach Park, Dad. We're holding a rally to protest Trump's illegal election."
"You need to come home right now," Juan insisted. "Your brother's home from the military. The whole family is getting together, and it's not right that you're not here."
Sofia was quiet for a long time. "I'm sorry about Christmas," she said quietly. "Please, just think about it. You know they stole this election. Don't you think this is something worth protesting?"
It was Juan's turn to be quiet. He did believe the Republicans stole the election, and he'd seen evidence of it with his own eyes. Still, his newfound sense of patriotism for his adopted country warred with the traditions of his culture. Finally, he asked, "Do you need a ride? I could come right down there and pick you up."
"No, Dad!" There was a note of panic in Sofia's voice. "Don't come down here."
"Why not?" Juan's question cut with more of an edge than he'd intended. "What's going on down there?"
"Just don't come down here," Sofia repeated. "Promise me, Dad."
Juan couldn't promise that, but he did respond with compassion to his daughter's urgent appeal. So he asked, "You really believe in what you're doing that much?"
"You know I do," Sofia replied. And Juan knew it was the truth. "You raised me to have the courage to do what I know is right."
At that moment, Juan knew his daughter had won the argument. She was proud and strong, and all he could do now was pray for her safety. "When are you coming home, mija? Tomorrow?"
The silence on the other end of the line stretched to eternity. "We're staying here until the inauguration," Sofia whispered.
"What?" Juan cried. He counted the days on his fingers. "That's almost a month away!"
"I have to do this, Dad." Her words contained steel resolve.
Juan was grateful she couldn't see his lip tremble over the phone. He struggled to keep his voice from cracking. "I understand," he said.
He could hear Sofia stifle a sob.
"Please explain this to Mom," Sofia asked.
"I'll try." Juan could scarcely imagine how difficult it was going to be to tell Maria.
"And give my love to Carlos. Tell him I'm sorry I'll miss his visit, even though he is a pawn of the establishment."
A hoarse laugh broke, unbidden, from Juan's throat. A tear streamed down his cheek as he replied, "You're gonna have to tell him that yourself!"