Rule #3
CAUTION: CUBAN FAMILY MIGHT BE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR
CAI
The plane touches down with a hard thud, rain lashing the windows. The cabin lights brighten, and everyone starts unbuckling, murmuring about delays and connections. I stay glued to my seat, phone in hand, thumbs flying.
Cai
Hey familia, surprise… plane diverted to MIA. Hurricane thing. I’m here. Like, right now.
The group chat explodes before I can even second-guess my wording.
Alex
OMG Sis! Can’t you warn anyone?! Why were you even on a plane?!
Sofia
Yay we need a new pic for Insta!
Tia Elena
Al fin! ?Tienes hambre?
Don’t eat! We have so much food we have to eat in case the power goes out!
Mama
?Estás con el boyfriend? Does he like flan? I’ll put on the cafetera.
I stare at the messages, heart pounding.
They’re acting like I won the lottery. Of course, they don’t know that I’m showing up unannounced, single, heartbroken, and possibly about to be interrogated by every tía on the block.
That’s a relief until I realize I will eventually have to tell them, and then it’ll be mortifying.
Or do I? What if I just stretch the truth a bit? After all, there’s a hurricane coming, and they must all be preoccupied with all of that. It would be selfish, unkind even, to add my current predicament to everything else they’re handling.
Sonny gives me a tight smile and a short wave as he gets up to deplane. I stay put and decidedly type back:
Cai
No, he had a work thing. Long story. Just me.
The replies keep coming: heart emojis, party poppers, dancing ladies. To them, it’s a celebration. My brother finally chimes in with his typical no-nonsense take.
Crispi
Are we preparing for Hurricane Olive or Hurricane Cayetana? Maybe we focus on the real storm instead of stuffing our faces?
Alex
Hush Crispi. You, Papa and Los Tios can worry about the storm. We want to drink cafe and hear about Cayetana’s life.
Rey’s running errands near the airport. I’ll tell him to go pick you up. Text me when you get your luggage.
I consider reminding them to call me Cai, not Cayetana.
My sister, Alex, whose name is Alejandrina, has made similar requests concerning the use of her nickname, so she should be more sympathetic.
Instead of starting any drama, however, I decide to give a thumbs-up and get up with a heavy sigh to get off the plane.
In the terminal, I wonder if I’d suddenly stepped into a post-apocalyptic movie.
Several people are loudly yelling on their phones.
Some are gesturing wildly at airline staff, clearly blaming them for the unexpected weather.
Suitcases are being dragged in every direction by the hurried steps of passengers with someplace to be.
Others are sprawled on the floor, having already given up on their hope of finding somewhere else to go.
The frantic feel lingers in the air, making it feel thicker and muggier than your typical indoor humidity in Miami.
A group of people I recognize from my flight appear to be gathered around an airline employee who is giving them directions. I see Sonny at the edge of the mob, and I walk over to him.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
Sonny looks up from his phone. “It’s your typical disaster movie opening. Looks like almost all of the flights are grounded. Rental cars are all rented in a 50-mile radius. No hotel rooms. So yeah, people are freaking out.”
I look around again, specifically at the people’s faces. Most appear to be terrified. As if there is a horde of zombies on its way to us, not a really bad storm.
“Looks more like they’re expecting World War Z rather than Into the Storm, and the hurricane is hours away,” I say as if reasoning is needed at this time.
Sonny shrugs. “The airline person told us, ‘Welcome to Miami in hurricane season.’”
“Well, that’s super helpful,” I say, frowning.
Sonny gestures towards my phone and asks, “Everything ok there?”
“Oh yeah,” I say casually. “They’re thrilled. I just haven’t been home for a while. I’m sure I have a monster guilt trip headed my way. But considering the alternative…” I gesture to the madness around us. “I’ll count myself lucky.”
“I’ll say,” he turns back at his phone, frowning as he scrolls.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll figure something out,” he says unconvincingly. “I’ll find some floor space if nothing else.”
I look around once more and then bite my lip.
“Look… you saved my life back there. Literally. And now I can repay that. My family has a big house in Kendall. Lots of rooms. They’re loud and intrusive, will probably feed you until you burst, and they’ll ask a million questions… but there’s space. And food.”
He blinks a few times like he doesn’t understand and then says, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to oversell it,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t know if you have any experience around Cuban families, but my family fits that stereotype to a T. It’s not the Ritz-Carlton, but you don’t seem to have a lot of options right now.”
A slow smile spreads across Sonny’s face. “Yeah. Okay. I’d like that.”
The warmth of his appreciation spreads through me, but then I think of something that might throw a wrench in my plans. “One more thing, and I’m sorry to ask.” I shuffle my feet slightly. “Could you not tell them all that stuff I told you about Trevor?”
“The man-child stuff, or how he ghosted you?”
“Well, any of it, actually. I know it’s not fair to ask, but…
” I trail off, trying to explain without sounding like a brat.
“My family always acts like I’m this bumbling loser when it comes to guys.
I’m already going to have to tell them I’m only a secretary, not a writer like I dreamed I would be by now.
They know I’m dating someone, but I’m not even engaged yet.
I just don’t want to add ‘pathetic’ to it.
” Tears start to sting again, and I look away, willing them to stop.
Sonny gently grabs my shoulder. “I think it goes without saying, but none of those things make you pathetic. But either way, I won’t say anything. I was just bashing him to make you feel better, anyway. He’s probably a great guy.” He gives me an easy nod.
I know he is trying to make me feel better.
I caught his scornful look when I was telling him about Trevor on the plane.
Still, it was a decent thing to offer reassurance to a stranger, especially one who looks like she is spiraling into her own storm fueled by anxiety and pastelitos, and I appreciate the effort.
Although we only met today, Sonny has a calming presence, and I feel that I can count on him.
“Thanks. They’ve never met him, so I don’t want this to be their first experience.”
“I’m sure. We don’t want anyone thinking he broke up with his charming, hot girlfriend like a total loser over text, right?” I open my mouth to say something, but his comment catches me off guard.
Is he joking? Is he going to tell them? Did he call me hot?
“Don’t worry,” he adds with a grin. “That was the last one. I’ll be good.”
SONNY
If I am being honest, I don’t want to be good. I want to talk to her family, get them all on my side, and wake Cai up to the fact that this relationship she’s chasing is a lousy one.
Still, if there is anyone who understands family pressure, it’s me.
Growing up, my family treated playing video games as the worst thing one could do with their time, next to embezzling from the church.
I haven’t told Cai my real profession, partly because of the association with her boyfriend, but also because of the deep-seated resentment my family has toward the type of person who plays video games.
So I’ll keep quiet. Not just because she asked me, but because I know that family dynamics can carry more weight than we realize from the outside.
I try to pay attention as she goes through the pseudo-rules for dealing with her family, making a mental list:
They’ll assume we were a couple, even though we’ll tell them we aren’t.
No question will be off limits. Cai points out that passing the threshold into a Cuban home is akin to accepting that there is no boundary they can’t cross or subject too taboo to be brought up.
I have to get seconds at dinner, no matter how big my first portion is. Not getting seconds would mean declaring that I don’t like the food and that I would be treated with the same disdain they reserved for traitors and those who claim that calories from croquetas count.
Cai is delivering her rules as we walk side by side to the baggage claim. By the time we arrive, I have to wipe tears from my eyes from laughing at her comedy routine.
The thing is that although the humor is on par with stand-up comedy, nothing about her seems performative or rehearsed. She’s just a quirky woman, making observations and giving genuine opinions.
The last few women I’ve dated were clearly only interested in my money.
One even asked specifically what I make when we were out to dinner!
I’ve started becoming very skeptical of the attention I get from women.
I get approached at conventions or some event, and it all feels so fake.
Everything I say is so cool. Every favorite I have happens to be theirs as well. Nothing feels real these days.
In lieu of that, Cai feels like primo authenticity.
It has me wondering what I can do to show her how I can be different.
How have I gotten so lucky to be stranded with someone I find not just beautiful but also with a genuine personality and a sense of humor that rivals my own?
Sure, she is a bit self-deprecating and is mixed up in the boyfriend department, but I can change that.
She’s a beautiful disaster in a hoodie, and I’m already all-in.
“And they’ll feed you like non-stop,” she’s saying. “It’ll be a constant cycle of food and trying to match us up.”
“Sounds awesome,” I say, holding her gaze until I see her blush slightly.
“Well, it’s probably not so bad from the outside for like a few days. It was a lot to grow up around.”
The baggage claim is as hectic as the terminal, and I offer to grab her luggage as she texts her family, her eyes bulging at whatever is being said on her phone.
“They’re posting about my homecoming on social media,” she says with all the severity of a cancer diagnosis.
I can’t help but laugh. I look at my phone and see messages from my best friend, who also works at SonLaw Gaming, my company, asking for an update.
John
OK, so obviously they canceled the conference in Puerto Rico.
Too bad they didn’t tell us a few hours earlier, we could’ve saved you the trip.
Sonny
Sounds like your stomach knew better.
John
Hey, I said I was sorry for bailing!
I’ll work on finding you a flight home.
Sonny
I have a place in Miami where I can wait out the storm, if need be, so don’t stress.
John
Are you sure?
You know this place barely runs without you.
Sonny
I could use the break anyway. It’ll do them some good to figure things out.
John
I can probably send a private plane to bring you back to AZ as a last resort…
I glance at Cai again, her brow furrowed and her mouth moving slightly as she types, the humid air already making her curls frizz into an adorable halo around her face.
What is it about this girl that makes me smile?
She is a ball of electricity. A compact ball of nerves in a curvy, soft package that tugs at something deep in my chest. And those big eyes seem to be searching and taking everything in.
Sonny
Yea, I’m sure. I’m fine staying here.
Cai tells me to look out for a lime-green suitcase but still points it out as if anyone could miss the behemoth of luggage. I grab it from the carousel and set it up for her.
“Well, I’m ready if you are,” I say to Cai.
She looks around and then asks, “Don’t you have any luggage?”
I shake my head and point to my backpack. “I have everything in here.”
She looks at her own suitcase as if it has personally betrayed her. This is the kind of luggage you’d pack if you’re planning a six-month expedition to a deserted island, not a weekend in Puerto Rico.
“I wasn’t sure what I would need,” she says quickly, cheeks flushing. “I’m a chronic overpacker. It’s a whole thing.”
There it is again, that instinct of hers to immediately apologize for existing. Like she has to justify every inch of space she takes up in the world.
“Nothing wrong with being prepared for literally anything,” I say, keeping my tone light. “You never know when you might need a backup formal gown, hiking boots, or an emergency inflatable raft, right?”
Her eyes widen, and then she lets out a surprised little laugh. The sound makes something stir in me. I want to make her do that more.
I try my best to awaken any psychic Professor X powers I might have and communicate to her with my expression: You don’t have to shrink yourself around me. You’ve got this.
“Are you feeling ok? You’re making a weird face,” Cai says, concerned.
Well, there goes that attempt. I rub the back of my head. “Yup, I’m good, just feeling a little hot, I guess.”
“Well, my brother-in-law, Rey, will be outside any second now. Ready?” I nod, and we begin to walk, and then she stops suddenly and turns to me. “How are you around chickens?”