Chapter Fourteen Dinner with the Reyes Family
Chapter Fourteen
Dinner with the Reyes Family
Dani
By two on Sunday, June twenty-ninth, Lola had arranged eight plastic dinosaurs across the coffee table for Amy’s visit. The chronology was wrong. I valued my life too much to correct her. Gloria stirred enchilada sauce while I moved the napkins for the third time.
“You’re pacing.”
“I’m helping.”
“Amy likes straight lines.”
“You like Amy.”
“Separate issue.”
Amy was due at five. It was two fourteen. I monitored the front window for neighborhood conditions.
“You told Lola?” I asked.
“I told her the challenge relationship involved acting.”
“How did she respond?”
“She asked whether the kiss was acting.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did you say?”
“That she should ask you.”
“Why?”
“Parenting is about delegation.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m excellent.”
Lola appeared in the kitchen holding an ankylosaurus.
“Was the kiss acting?”
There it was. Gloria smiled. Coward. I crouched so Lola and I were eye level.
“The kiss happened because Amy and I are pretending to be girlfriends for the competition.”
“That did not answer.”
She had spent too much time around Gloria.
“It was a real kiss,” I said. “But the reason we kissed was part of the acting.”
Lola frowned.
“If it was real, then you weren’t pretending.”
“Sometimes actors really do something while pretending a story.”
“Like dancing?”
“Yes.”
“Do actors really get married?”
Lola folded her arms on the table and considered the hierarchy of fictional events with grave concentration.
“Not usually.”
“Do they really die?”
“No.”
“Then kissing is more like dancing than dying.”
I considered.
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
Gloria laughed into the sauce. I pointed at her.
“Not helping.”
Lola waited. Eight-year-olds had no respect for emotional self-preservation.
“That is private,” I said.
“So yes.”
“Go check the dinosaurs.”
“They’re right.”
“The stegosaurus is in the Cretaceous section.”
Her eyes widened. She ran to the living room.
“Low,” Gloria said.
“Effective.”
“You used paleontology to escape your feelings.”
“It’s a versatile field.”
Gloria lowered the heat beneath the sauce.
“What are you going to tell Amy?”
“About what?”
“Your feelings.”
“I don’t have a scheduled statement.”
“You sound like her.”
“I spend time with her.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I opened the refrigerator. Inside were two trays of enchiladas, salad, fruit, and the cake Lola had decorated with green frosting and small plastic runners.
“What is the cake?”
“Race theme.”
“It looks like grass.”
“Lola made it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You lie better to children.”
“I’m nurturing.”
Gloria leaned against the counter.
“Dani.”
I closed the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Is Amy your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Do you want her to be?”
I held the answer behind my teeth and listened to Lola explain geological eras to herself in the living room.
“I don’t know what I want,” I said.
“Lie.”
“I know what I want. I don’t know what I can have.”
“Better.”
“There’s coaching. The challenge. Her marathon. My certification.”
“Your fear.”
“I was getting there.”
“No, you weren’t.”
I opened a drawer and reorganized forks that did not need help. Gloria watched.
“You never clean when calm,” she said.
“I clean.”
“You move dirt into emotionally convenient locations.”
“Still cleaning.”
The doorbell rang. My body reacted like a starting gun had fired. Gloria smiled.
“It’s three twenty.”
The clock said three twenty. Not Amy. A grocery delivery. I hated everyone.
Amy arrived at four fifty-two. Eight minutes early.
Of course. I saw her through the window before she reached the porch.
She wore dark trousers, a fitted burgundy sweater, and low boots.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders.
In one hand, she carried flowers. In the other, a rectangular gift bag covered in dinosaurs.
Something inside me shifted so hard I had to grip the curtain. Gloria appeared beside me.
“Subtle.”
“Go away.”
“This is my house.”
The doorbell rang. Lola sprinted from the living room. I reached the door first.
“Walking,” Gloria called.
Lola slowed with theatrical resentment. I opened the door. Amy gave me a small, nervous smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
For a second, I forgot to move. Cool evening air came through the doorway while Amy waited.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Considering it.”
“Dani.”
I stepped aside. She entered. The flowers were sunflowers and small white blossoms.
“These are for Gloria.”
“Good. I hate flowers.”
“You have a tattoo.”
“That’s a compass.”
“It has decorative leaves.”
“Symbolic.”
Lola reached the entryway.
“Amy!”
Amy crouched.
“Hello, Lola.”
“Did you bring dinosaurs?”
“I brought something related to dinosaurs.”
“Why not actual dinosaurs?”
“Availability.”
Lola accepted the gift bag. Inside was an illustrated book about prehistoric animals and a set of fossil excavation blocks. Her mouth fell open.
“This is the best thing anyone has ever brought me.”
Gloria took the flowers.
“I bought you a bicycle last year,” she said.
“That was transportation.”
Amy stood. Gloria hugged her. Amy’s surprise lasted half a second before she returned it.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she said.
“Thank you for surviving the explanation.”
Lola looked up from the book.
“I understand. You’re acting girlfriends.”
Amy glanced at me.
“Yes.”
“But the kiss was like dancing.”
Color reached Amy’s face. I inspected the ceiling.
“Apparently,” I said.
“Did you like it?”
“Lola,” Gloria said.
“What? Aunt Dani said it was private.”
“Then why ask Amy?”
“She might have different privacy.”
Amy recovered before I did.
“I think some questions belong only to the people involved.”
Lola considered.
“Was that a yes?”
“Go show Amy your timeline,” Gloria said.
Lola took Amy’s hand and pulled her toward the living room. Amy looked back at me. Help. I followed. The dinosaur figures occupied the coffee table. Amy immediately noticed the stegosaurus placement. I shook my head once. Do not. She knelt beside Lola.
“This is very organized.”
“I put them in time order.”
“Excellent.”
“Is it right?”
Amy hesitated. I watched the conflict move through her face. Honesty. Kindness. Accuracy. She picked up the stegosaurus.
“This one lived earlier than some of the others here.”
Lola moved it.
“I knew Aunt Dani was wrong.”
“You did not,” I said.
“I did in my heart.”
Amy laughed. The sound filled Gloria’s house differently than it did the gym. Softer. As though it belonged. That thought frightened me enough to make a joke.
“Careful. She’ll make you a spreadsheet.”
Amy looked up.
“A geological timeline would benefit from clear labels.”
Lola gasped.
“Can we?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Amy said.
Lola cheered. I had brought this into my family. There would be no containment.
Dinner began at five thirty. Gloria had arranged the table with cloth napkins and the flowers Amy brought. Lola placed a plastic triceratops beside Amy’s plate as a seating marker.
“You’re honored,” I said.
“What marks your seat?”
“A fork.”
“Appropriate.”
Gloria served enchiladas. Amy asked for the recipe. Gloria claimed there was no recipe. Amy looked concerned.
“She cooks emotionally,” I explained.
“That is not reproducible.”
“Exactly.”
Lola spent the first ten minutes explaining that pterosaurs were flying reptiles, not dinosaurs. Amy agreed with enough precision to earn Lola’s approval. Then the conversation moved to work and the possible professional introduction Evelyn had offered.
“You met your ex?” Gloria asked.
“Yesterday.”
I tried not to react. Amy noticed anyway.
“It was professional and personal,” she said.
“What did she want?” Gloria asked.
“To apologize and offer a contact.”
“Did you accept?”
“The contact, yes. The apology…” Amy considered. “I believed it.”
“That wasn’t the question,” I said.
Her eyes met mine.
“No,” she said. “I did not forgive her.”
Relief moved through me. I had no right to it. I took a drink of water. Gloria looked between us and understood everything. She always did.
“What about you, Dani?” she asked. “How is the certification plan?”
“Improving.”
“Amy made a budget,” Lola said.
Everyone looked at her.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“You told Mom.”
Gloria lifted both hands.
“You were excited.”
Amy appeared as surprised as I felt.
“You told Gloria about the spreadsheet?”
“It’s a good spreadsheet.”
“You said it had too many categories.”
“It has the correct number emotionally.”
“There are six.”
“Emotionally twelve.”
Amy smiled. Gloria watched me watch her, so I concentrated on the food. This dinner had become a trap. Lola pointed her fork at Amy.
“Are you coming to Christmas?”
Silence arrived. Lola’s question was innocent; any answer was not. Christmas was six months away, after the competition and marathon, beyond the fake anniversary on paper. Amy waited for an exit I could have provided. Instead, I froze because some part of me wanted her answer. Amy turned to Lola.
“I don’t know what plans will look like then.”
Lola frowned.
“That means no.”
“It means I cannot promise yet.”
“Why?”
“Because Christmas is far away.”
“It happens every year.”
“Consistent scheduling,” Amy said.
“Exactly.”
I laughed despite myself. Amy continued.
“If your aunt and I are still part of each other’s lives, I would like to come.”
The conditional answer was careful. Honest. It still reached into me. Lola accepted it.
“Okay. I’ll save a chair.”
Gloria looked down at her plate. She was hiding emotion. So was I.
After dinner, Lola pulled Amy toward the living room to begin the fossil excavation kit. Gloria and I cleared the table.
“You’re in trouble,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I usually prefer more supportive family conversations.”
“She said if you’re still part of each other’s lives.”
“I heard.”
“You looked like she proposed.”
“I did not.”
“You stopped breathing.”
I carried plates to the sink. Gloria followed.
“Thursday still?” Gloria asked.
“Yes.”
“No new deadline?”
“No new deadline.”