Chapter 22
TOMáS
“What do you mean you won’t be around for Dad’s birthday? We always get together for it,” Lorena reminds me, as if I don’t feel guilty enough as it is.
“I know.”
My sister’s eyes narrow at me. “Let me guess, work?”
“Sort of.” I leave it at that. Ignoring the “Of course it is” comment she makes loud enough for me and everyone else sitting at the table to hear.
Lorena should know more than anyone how important our tradition of getting together to celebrate our dad’s birthday is since his passing.
I’ve never missed it. But I gave Sarina my word, and as I’m a man of my word, if I told her I’d accompany her to Colorado for her sister’s wedding, that’s what I have to do.
If I were able to say the exact reason, I’d hope she’d be understanding.
Ignoring the dissatisfied death stare Lorena maintains my way, I pass the bowl of habichuelas to Tino who remains quiet, sensing the tension between my sister and me, and wanting no part of it. Can’t say I blame him.
“Tomás.” Lorena snaps her fingers. “Hello? That’s all you have to say?”
“Something came up that was out of my control. You know if I could, I would be there.”
“That’s bullshit,” Lorena huffs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tino rub her hand, trying to settle her down, but Lorena pays him no mind as she continues to lecture me. This is standard for our relationship. While we have immense love for each other, we continually butt heads.
“My god, Lorena, knock it off. I swear, you two are worse than when you were kids with the bickering,” our mom intervenes, gliding her gaze to my sister first. “You heard your brother, if he were able to he would. He’s never missed a birthday, so it’s obvious something very important came up.
Don’t start guilt-tripping him.” The tears she’s trying to hold back cause her voice to become hoarse.
Adrian, her boyfriend, takes her hand to comfort her as a stray tear falls down her cheek.
I appreciate the comfort he provides her.
Even though I’ll admit it took years for me to come to terms with their relationship.
We grew up with Adrian always around; he was our dad’s best friend, for Christ’s sake.
And if it wasn’t for the way he treats my mother, like a queen and nothing less, I don’t think I’d have ever come around to it.
“Thanks, Ma,” I say, holding eye contact with my sister.
“Of course, hijo.”
Lorena mumbles something under her breath, but thankfully she drops it. Which is very unlike her, given that she always has something to say, but I welcome the change in pace.
I have a lot weighing on my mind between not being here and whatever awaits me with Sarina’s dad when we arrive in Colorado, I don’t need my sister pestering me right now.
“So, work has been busy, I take it?” My mom changes the subject. Though I can tell from the way she’s asking she’s likely curious as to my reasoning for missing Dad’s birthday.
“Always,” I say between bites.
Lorena clears her throat, and it sounds like the equivalent of a ‘Yeah, right’. Clearly, she isn’t going to let this go after all.
I take another bite of the arroz con habichuelas my mom made, savoring it, before I decide to address the elephant in the room, well, as much as I’m able to.
“I’ll be in Colorado.”
“When?” Mom asks.
“On Dad’s birthday. There’s a business wedding I need to attend.”
Lorena’s fork clacks down on the plate, stealing all our attention. The look on her face is throwing me off. She looks like she’s thinking so hard, her brain is about to explode.
“Yes?”
“Hold on, did you say Colorado?” A grin stretches her lips. “This wedding wouldn’t happen to be with Sarina, would it?”
Fuck, here we go.
“Sarina as in…”
Lorena cuts off my mom. “My friend Ri, from NYU. She works with Tomás now.”
“Oh, I see.” The inflection in my mom’s voice lifts as she darts her suspicious gaze my way while my sister carries on with how amused she appears by all of this.
“Did you two talk about this in the office or when you were dancing all night at Hummingbirds?”
The air conditioning is failing me. I can feel sweat beading on my temples.
If there were popcorn at the table, Adrian and Tino would have two fists full the way they are both intently spectating. Shit. Mom is right there with them. Staring, likely full of questions.
“It came up at the office actually.”
“That’s fucking random.”
“Lorena, language!” our mom scolds.
“Seriously, Ma? We’re all adults here. I bet if Tomás cursed at the table, you’d just laugh.”
“Oh please.” Mom swats her hand in Lorena’s direction. “Enough, I want to know more about this date your brother has.”
“It’s not a date.” My mom’s expression deflates a bit at the correction. “It’s a business meeting that so happens to be at a wedding.”
“Dios mio, Tomás. How do you ever expect to find someone to settle down with if you refer to dates as meetings?”
“It’s not like that.”
A ringing noise captures my attention, I follow it to my sister —who now has her phone in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask through a tight throat. The sweat on my forehead now intensifying to a steady drip.
“FaceTiming Sarina.”
Innocent enough, except if Sarina answers there’s a high probability that she’s still in my bed, given that she stayed the night.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Feeling out of sorts I rise from my chair, shooting Tino a look in the hopes that he can say something to convince my sister to hang up. But he knows as well as I do that there’s nothing any of us can do to deter Lorena from doing what she wants.
Still, he tries. “It’s family dinner time anyway, why don’t you…”
My mom clicks her tongue. “Hush you two. Let’s see if she answers.” The curiosity in mom’s voice is ripe.
“Yeah, you heard Ma, you two hush. I’m calling for more details since getting any from Tomás is like pulling teeth. My without-a-filter friend will surely fill in the gaps for us.”
Exactly what I’m afraid of.
“Seriously, Lo, leave her alone.” I’m practically begging her at this point, but it’s too late. My heart leaps in my chest as the phone rings and I feel lightheaded when I hear Sarina’s voice.
“Hey!” Lo greets as soon as Sarina accepts the call. “Where are you? It’s so dark. I can’t see anything.”
Relief floods me. I’m so glad I was talked into purchasing the blackout shades for my bedroom.
“In bed.”
My heart is beating in my chest like a god damn hammer.
Lorena grabs Tino’s wrist, glancing at his watch for the time. “It’s early still. Are you getting another one of those awful migraines?”
“No. I’m just tired.”
Lorena, for whatever reason turns the phone around to face me.
I stare at the darkened phone screen. Even without being able to see her, the effect she has on me remains.
“He working you to death?” Lorena jokes, unintentionally with a double entendre.
“You can say that,” Sarina practically hums.
“Cono,” I mutter under my breath.
The flirtatiousness in Sarina’s voice seems to be lost on Lo, and she flips the phone back to face her. “Sounds like my brother. All work and no play. I hear the work will continue at your sister’s wedding?”
“Yes.” Hesitancy strains her vocal cords.
I rise from my seat, feeling dizzy as I do.
It’s comical that this is drawing such a reaction from me.
I mean, in this room alone, between my sister being with my best friend and my mom being with my dad’s best friend, none of us are strangers to unconventional pairings.
I think what has me feeling this way is that it feels like Sarina is being ambushed.
I know that’s not Lorena’s intention, yet it feels unfair to put her on the spot like this.
“Sarina.” I say her name as casually as I can, ignoring how pretty she sounds as she says my name back.
My mom leans back in her chair with her arms crossed in front of her, waiting for me to continue. “I was just telling everyone that we have a meeting —well, I have a meeting— with your father that requires my attendance at your sister’s wedding due to his busy schedule.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Sarina’s response is robotic.
Much to my surprise, Lorena leaves it at that. From what the swishing of my pulse in my ears is allowing me to hear, the conversation settles into their usual talk, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“Tomás,” my mom says, getting up to collect everyone’s empty plates.
I tell her to sit down, offering to do the dishes for her. I can tell she’s tired; not only are her hands shaking but her left eye is beginning to droop —a hallmark symptom of her MG.
However, stubbornness is a hallmark of every member of my family, me included, so naturally she fights me on it, insisting she’s okay.
“Did you not hear me? Why would I tell you to come with me to the kitchen so I can sit here? Go ahead.” She hands me the plates she started collecting, and I gather the rest. “I’ll be right behind you. ”
I can’t help but smile walking through the saloon-style shutters attached to the kitchen’s threshold.
When I had this house built for my mom, I told her whatever upgrade or furnishing she wanted was hers. It was a goal of mine to be able to not only make enough money that I could cover my mom’s medical expenses, but that she could live debt-free in her dream home.
She insisted on having the shutters installed, saying that she liked having them for their practicality.
Something about how if she didn’t feel like doing the dishes one day, she could have the mess closed off to the kitchen.
But I know the real reason she wanted them.
Growing up, the kitchen was the center of our home.
It’s where her and my dad would cook together nightly.
It’s where Lo and I took our first steps.
It’s where we lived, where we celebrated, and eventually, where we grieved.
Memories, good, bad, and everything in between lived and breathed in our family kitchen.
So when she requested similar shutters for this house, I made sure to detach the ones from the apartment, and install them here.
“Leave the dishes there, me or Adrian will get to them later.”
I roll up my sleeves, turning the hot water on at the sink, ignoring her. “It’s all right, Ma, I’ve got it.”
She hums to herself, moving closer to me to turn off the water. “Sarina, huh?”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
I peer over my shoulder as my mom playfully taps the back of my head.
“Calm down, your sister isn’t around to listen.
” She stifles a laugh. “I swear you two are something else. Always at each other’s throats, yet so protective.
I also don’t know what it is with you two going after each other’s friends. ”
“It’s not like that,” I try to protest, but if there’s one person who will always see through your bullshit lies… it’s your mother. And mine can read me like a book.
“You’ve never missed your father’s birthday.”
“Ma, I know but—”
Both her hands lift, motioning me to stop.
“Let me finish. I’m not saying that to guilt you. I know that if you are missing being here for his birthday, it’s because it’s important.”
“It is.” I leave it at that. The more I think about not being here, the guiltier I feel.
“You care for her. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be going.”
My breath hitches, words suddenly escaping me.
She cradles my chin the same way she used to when I was younger and needed to be comforted when my mind would run wild, not allowing me to be caught up in the moment.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen my baby happy. You deserve it. Let yourself be happy.”
“I know,” I reply. I’ll try.