Rule #10
IF YOUR STORY DOESN’T HOLD UP TO THE STORM, MAKE UP A BETTER ONE
CAI
I can’t speak for all Cuban women, but in my family, we meet potential natural disasters with preparation. We outwork the trials and tribulations. We face anxiety head-on with chore accomplishment and an energy reserve that rivals the Energizer Bunny.
After the niceties, the work is delegated, and I am whisked away to the kitchen with most of the women, while Sonny is pulled to the side by Rey.
I catch his eye, about to protest, not wanting to leave him to fend for himself, but he doesn’t look upset at all.
He doesn’t look annoyed or overwhelmed; his eyes aren’t pleading with me to save him from this imposition or threatening me with an argument later.
He actually seems… happy. Absolutely content and fine with the situation.
I heard him speak up with authority on the phone, so I know he can assert himself if need be. That assertive side of Sonny actually makes his humility more outstanding; he can be forceful, but he chooses to be gentle. So when Sonny smiles reassuringly, I know he isn’t only being polite.
With that small gesture, a weight has been lifted.
How long had I carried the feeling like I am a burden to my partners?
I hadn’t realized I’ve been doing it until just this moment.
It isn’t until I realize that my gut reaction when wanting something, even if that something is just kindness, is to negotiate, offer a concession, or even plead.
I haven’t expected someone just to be agreeable without expecting anything in return.
It is shocking to me that, after all the food my family has already prepared and brought over, we would still be needed in the kitchen.
Upon entering the room, the direction is given to begin filling the water bottles.
Many of these will go in the freezer to keep the refrigerator cold as long as possible.
Others would be set aside to drink as needed or for the bathrooms. All are preparations for the loss of power, which was usually a given.
There are only so many people you can have filling water bottles at once, so some of the women begin warming the food for dinner on large platters.
Cuban matriarchs in my family made an art out of complaining, hurricane or no hurricane, so Tia Elena makes sure to point out that the water bottles should’ve been put in the freezer hours ago.
“The wind is already crazy outside, and the storm will be here soon. Let’s hope we don’t lose power before they freeze.” Tia Elena notes as we all work.
“I would’ve, but I had to get the house cleaned, and all the sheets done, and the fans needed to be dusted…” My mom lists all the chores she has done. She makes sure to throw some shade my way. “Maybe if Cayetana had helped out a little more, I could’ve gotten more done.”
“You can’t expect Cayetana to do that,” Tia Elena says, coming unexpectedly to my defense. “After all, she came home with a boyfriend.”
“Well, first, I wasn’t even meant to be here, so I can hardly be the problem,” I say in my own defense.
“Second, why do we have to clean the house like it’s going on sale when a hurricane hits?
” This is a valid observation and something I never understood.
Why do we always deep-clean before a potential natural disaster, as if dust invites bad luck?
“And third, he’s not my boyfriend,” I say this last bit quickly, hoping it won’t be dwelt on. No dice.
Tia Elena literally stops what she’s doing to express her shock. “Not your boyfriend?”
“No, escucha esto.” My mom seems all too happy to share the update. “El boyfriend is in Puerto Rico. It’s only thanks to Hurricane Olive that we get to see Cayetana.”
Tia Elena’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head.
“Well, he had to work.” The lie spills out. “We were considering surprising you guys afterward…”
I can feel myself starting to sweat. I am singularly focused on changing the look all over their faces—the look that says I am a disappointment or that I have ruined another relationship.
“Sure you were.” This time, it is Tia Julia, rolling her eyes. “Cayetana, you called to prepare us for the fact that both your names would be on the Christmas card. You expect us to believe that you’d plan a trip here together without telling us?”
“Well, he insisted on it being a surprise.” I hear myself say. “I thought maybe he had an even bigger surprise planned, and I didn’t want to ruin it, so…”
It is like a compulsion at this point. I was having an out-of-body experience, as if I were watching a stranger tell these lies.
The kitchen felt like a sauna. If they found out how wrong I was about this, how different the actual case was, I would throw up right here.
“But este el Sonny, he seems so nice.” Back to sweet Tia Elena, who seemed confused by the whole thing.
“He’s a nice friend who we are helping out for the hurricane,” I clarify.
“At least he doesn’t avoid your family like la plaga,” my mom says with a sour face.
“Trevor isn’t avoiding you. He’s just been… we’ve been busy. If you met him, you’d like him. More than Sonny probably.” Why am I pushing Trevor this hard? I don’t even recognize the person I’m describing, but it definitely isn’t my waste of a boyfriend. Of course, I am really defending myself.
“When’s the worst of the storm supposed to hit?” I say, hoping to change the topic.
That did it. The conversation spins off into debates over when the hurricane-force winds will arrive.
Conversations veer off onto the latest storm trajectory, and everyone chimed in with their “expert” opinion on how bad it will be, given when it makes landfall and the pressure systems involved.
The consensus is that we’ll start getting hurricane-force winds in the next few hours.
“You know,” Tia Elena says solemnly. “There haven’t been accurate storm predictions since Walter Mercado…
“ She gets caught up before she can finish and crosses herself. My mother and the tias all cross themselves as well. Walter Mercado is the recently deceased over-the-top astrologer who would air on TV every evening at seven to tell you your horoscope. Most people I’ve spoken to grew up huddled around the TV for the news or some family show.
We gathered to see what Walter Mercado would tell us about our fortune.
I try to look interested, but my mind is wandering what Sonny is up to. I feel the need to apologize to him, although I haven’t really insulted him, and it is beginning to nag at me. I haven’t been fair in describing him in comparison to Trevor, and it bothers me even if he hasn’t heard.
That sounds silly. Why should I feel guilty at all? And why do my family’s feelings about Sonny matter?
SONNY
Cai’s family has no aversion to asking for help. They have a way of taking you in and putting you to work, treating you like one of them, for better or worse.
I have spent so much time trying to fit in with others, especially growing up, that it is foreign to me to be taken in so easily by this family. Rey is my guide as we put duct tape on the inside of the windows.
“It doesn’t do anything,” Rey tells me. “The windows are boarded up, and these are double-paned, impact-rated windows. This tape is something they used to do in the old days. Now we do it to make the old-timers feel better.”
The way they all care about their elders is endearing. It makes me wish I knew more about my grandparents or extended family.
My family is large, and there were always so many around. It never felt close, though. My mother, grandmother, and later my sisters spent family time ensuring that everyone understood the sacrifices they made to put food on the table or pay the light bill.
My father had died at war when I was a baby; my mother was a widow, and yet the feeling I got was that he had left her with the kids on her own, as if he’d chosen to die.
As a child, every game I played, every hour I spent, it wasn’t that they were worried about me rotting my brain or not doing better at school; they were upset that I wasn’t pitching in more to help them out.
But now, as an adult, it’s all about how they are entitled to part of my wealth, a share in the success, because of our relation but never because of our relationship.
They have never even shared what made our family great.
They have never even made me feel like part of a team.
My phone keeps buzzing, and although I try to ignore it, Rey eventually suggests I check on the older kids in the den. He also warns me that we’ll likely lose signal if the power goes out, which was almost certain to happen.
I thank him, but before entering the den, I quickly answer some messages. They all start with the sentiment that there is no need to answer right away or that my response is not urgent. Looks like Jake made my request clear.
Ben, my business partner, messages me for one last confirmation.
Ben
You sure you’re good with me calling the shots solo?
Sonny
I am.
Ben
What if I get asked what you’re doing?
Sonny
Tell them I went to see about a girl.
Ben
And if they’ve seen Good Will Hunting?
Sonny
Then tell them I’m in a meeting
In the den are Rey’s two kids, Lucas and Patty, who are fourteen and twelve, and one of Cai’s cousins, Sofia, who is older, probably 16 or so. They are all sprawled out on their phones, unbothered by my presence.
I look around at the shelves and the dusty, stacked board games. There’s a good amount of variety, but it looks like it had been a while since anyone touched them.
“I don’t know why they have them. They only ever play Dominoes.” Patty says, barely looking up from her phone.
“I’ve never played Dominoes. What do you guys do while they play?” I ask.
Lucas rolls his eyes and adds, “I know I should’ve brought my PlayStation.”
“Are you a big gamer?” I ask.
Lucas shrugs and turns back to his phone. “Not really.”
“Mama says you play too much!” Patty adds.
“That’s because she doesn’t know how much most kids play,” Lucas retorts defensively.
I smile, remembering my own mother’s musings on the subject. “Moms are like that. I’m sure there will be plenty to do without it.”
“If the power goes out, it’ll get really boring,” Sofia says. “Last time we lost power for almost twenty-four hours! That really sucked. I don’t get why we don’t just leave.”
“The adults all act like they can’t separate from each other or they die,” Lucas replies.
“Do you wish you lived further apart?” I ask.
Lucas considers this for a moment and then says. “Nah, I like living close to everyone. I just wish we didn’t have to be all together if we didn’t want to.”
“Ah, I get it.” Insightful kid. “We will find something to make it not so boring even without the PlayStation.”
“It’s not that,” Lucas says. “It’s just, how often does anyone get to play games with the head of SonLaw Gaming?”
Shit. The gig is up. He even knows the name of my company, my first name with the syllables inverted.
“That’s it!” Sofia exclaims. “I knew you looked familiar.”
“Yeah, we just saw you on YouTube recently,” Patty says. Three for three.
“Listen, do you think you guys could keep it to yourselves? Who I am, I mean,” I appeal to the three.
“Why? Doesn’t Cai know?” Lucas asks.
“She doesn’t know… specifically,” I respond. She doesn’t know at all, but that sounds really bad. “And I’d rather she didn’t. Not yet. I don’t think she likes video games too much.”
“Sure,” Sofia says, already bored by the conversation, and goes back to her phone. The other two nod, shrugging, and follow suit.
I am about to gauge their commitment when I hear the door open. Cai pops her head in. “Hey,” she says. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” I reply too fast. She arches an eyebrow suspiciously.
“You know he’s never played Dominoes?” It’s Lucas who speaks, barely looking up from his phone, giving me the perfect out.
Thank you, Lucas, for the quick save.
“Really?” Cai asks. I nod, hoping I look appropriately embarrassed. “Well, if you want to learn by being yelled at by hypercompetitive Cubans, I’m sure they’ll play later.”
“Maybe I can just watch, and you can explain it to me. Unless you hate all games, or is it just video games?” I ask.
“Just video games. I like to spank anyone in dominoes when I get the chance.” She gives me a mischievous look that ignites something in my gut.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I think I say it quite enough that only Cai can hear.
Sofia makes a retching sound and says, “Gross.”
“Hey,” Cai says, turning to the kids. “Why are you three here and not helping out with storm prep stuff? Do your legs not work?”
All three of them groan in unison. “We’d just be in the way,” Sofia says.
“Mama told us to make ourselves useful, so we thought we’d not bother them,” Patty adds.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Lucas adds.
“You guys would not have made it back in my day,” Cai says with a sigh.
“Come on,” Cai says to all of us. “Dinner’s being served. And they’re treating it like it’s the last supper, so bring your appetite.”
Funny she should say that, because suddenly I’m ravenous.