I’d be lying, though, if I said it didn’t make me feel a little better. Even as a grown-ass man, sometimes a mother’s hug is what you need.
“Now, where is my pollito?”
“I’m here,” Desi says from behind me, and just like that, I’m chopped liver.
The two of them disappear to God knows where and I turn back to my siblings and sigh. “Come in.”
We walk into the kitchen and I offer them a drink. “I’ve got beer in the fridge, Cokes in the garage, water, juice.”
“A Coke sounds good,” Arrón says.
Grinning, I nod. “You know where they are.”
Silvi laughs. “Aren’t you just the host with the most?”
“Technically, my daughter is your host,” I say, as Desi waltzes into the room, drinks in hand.
“Here’s a Dr. Pepper for you,” she says, handing my brother a can. “And a Diet Coke for you, Silvi.”
“What about me?” I ask teasingly, and without missing a beat she says, “You know where they are.”
The heckling is immediate.
“Sick burn!” Arrón hollers, holding his hand out toward Desi for a high-five, while Silvi boos loudly and my mother mutters in Spanish.
Even as the butt of the joke, I can’t help but smile. There’s something about being around family—for me, at least—that always makes me feel better when I’m out of sorts. They’re my foundation when I’m weak, my glue when I’m broken, and sometimes, they’re a thorn in my side. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
They heckle me a little more before their laughter tapers off into curiosity.
“Tell me, Mate,” my mother says. “Why are we here?” I can see why she’s confused; her house is our usual gathering place.
I shrug and point to my daughter. “Ask her.”
All eyes turn to Desi. “You’re here today because…” She pauses for dramatic effect, her mouth spreading into what can only be described as an evil grin. “Dad’s met someone.”
“Whoa!” I shout, but my denial is lost in the fray as my family all demands to know more about my new—nonexistent—woman.
“I knew there was something between y’all!” Silvi accuses. “She told me there wasn’t, but I knew it!”
“Seraphine?” my brother asks. “About time.”
“You’ll really like her,” Desi says to my mother, but she silences her with a single hard look.
“A woman?” Mamá asks. “You have met a woman?”
“No.” The word feels like a lie; I shake my head to reinforce it… to make myself believe it.
“Dad!”
“Hush, pollito. Your father and I are talking.”
Desi huffs and slumps down onto a barstool.
“Why does everyone know this woman but not me? Your brother and sister and even your daughter have met her, but not me? You will bring her to dinner.”
“Mam—”
“Your celebratory dinner for the new shop. She will come.”
With wide eyes, I look around the room for help. Judging by the matching smirks on Arrón and Silvi’s faces, the calvary isn’t coming anytime soon.
“Take me home, hijito,” she says to my brother as she scowls at me. “Suddenly, I’m not up for visiting.”
“Are you sure?” Arrón asks.
She nods once. “Yes. And when we get home, I’ll make tacos de barbacoa.”
“Why does he get barbacoa?” I squawk, not caring a single iota over how lame I sound. That stuff is delicious, and knowing my brother, he will gloat for days on end about this.
Mamá glares. “Then you shouldn’t have lied.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“A lie by omission is still a lie,” Silvi adds unhelpfully.
“I didn’t omit anything,” I growl. “There’s nothing between us!”
“Denial isn’t any better, Dad.”
“Impossible—you people are impossible.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I’m not looking for a relationship! Especially one with her!”
“What’s wrong with Seraphine, Dad?” My daughter wears her confusion and hurt as plain as day on her face. “I really like her, and I know you do, too.”
“She is too young. Immature. Practically a child.” My tone is more abrasive than I mean for it to be. My frustration with the entire situation is morphing; what started as an ember is quickly becoming an inferno.
“Mijo.” Mamá moves across the room to me and takes my hand in hers. “My son, is her age your only holdup?”
I seesaw my free hand in the space between us. “Eh. Mostly.”
“Your father was much older than me. Almost twenty-two years.” She squeezes the hand she is still holding. “Search your heart, Mate.”
Without a rebuttal in mind, I nod.
“Bring her to dinner,” she murmurs as she leans forward to kiss my cheek.
“Wait, you’re still leaving?”
She sighs. “You may not have lied to me, but you’re lying to yourself, and that may be worse.”
Knowing I’ve already lost the battle, I kiss her cheek as well and resign myself to figuring out how in the hell I’m going to get Seraphine to a family dinner in two days when we’re hardly talking. And how I’m going to get Desi to bring me home barbacoa without Mamá catching on.