Chapter 6 #2
“Well, yeah. I mean, the contract.” I straighten on my seat. “Since you’re already getting attention anyway, you might as well get something out of it. Let’s promote your art. Start posting it on your social media. Make art for weird people.”
He winces. “I don’t want to mooch off your fame.”
“You won’t.” I bump my shoulder against his. “What I’m saying is that if anyone deserves a platform, it’s you. There are people out there who will love your art.”
“I don’t know, Sash.” I expect him to reply with a witty remark, but he just shakes his head and reaches for the remote, tossing his tablet aside.
It’s strange. We’re falling back on our old routines, trying to recapture the essence of the people we used to be, but I also feel like I don’t know him anymore. I don’t know why or when his confidence went away, because I wasn’t there to witness it, or to help him through it.
He queues up the video of Toad screaming my first single, “Summer Blues.” I take another spoonful of soup as the video starts. An unexpected fit of laughter claws its way up my throat, making me choke on my food.
“Fuck you,” I say, trying to breathe through my coughs when he chuckles.
“I’ll get you some water.” Kai rises to his feet. He looks over his shoulder and smirks, mimicking Toad’s voice. “Suuuummer bluuues.”
I throw a pillow at him, but I’m short on reflexes and he’s fast at scurrying to the kitchen. The doorbell rings before I can settle back on the couch. Maybe Marissa did send someone to get me groceries. I don’t know where I’m going to store more food. The fridge is already full to the brim—
“?Por fin!” is all I hear, spinning around in time to see my little sister slipping past me as she throws herself at the floor. “Casa. Casita. Te he extranado tanto … I smell like plane.”
My moms appear behind her, hauling two giant suitcases toward the door. The frown lines on Mamá’s brows deepen as she tries to get Sonia’s suitcase’s loopy wheel to roll. Mom abandons her suitcase on the porch and throws her arms open for a hug.
“Mom?” I say, torn between confusion and joy. “Mamá?”
My heart drops to my stomach. They’re not supposed to be home yet.
Before I can ask, they both wrap me in a hug so tight that I immediately feel ten pounds lighter.
For the first time since I got back to LA, I feel at home.
The way Mom’s eyes crease with fondness when she looks at me is home.
The faint scent of Mamá’s perfume, a subtle blend of jasmine and sandalwood, is home.
“You were sick and home alone. You really thought we wouldn’t come home earlier?” Mom squeezes me against her. “I missed you too much.”
Mamá touches my forehead. Her manicured nails feel cold against my skin. “Your temperature doesn’t seem too bad,” she says. “?Te tomaste algo para la fiebre?”
“Oh? You made food?” Mom spots the steaming bowls in the living room. “I missed your cooking! You hadn’t cooked in a while.”
“What are you playing?” Sonia kicks off her shoes and plops down on the couch.
Fuck. Kai—
“Hey, guys, so Kai—”
“Oh, there’ll be time to talk about him.
” Mamá gives me the look—the one that makes me feel small enough to fit in a shoebox.
“What were you thinking? Getting into a PR contract? This isn’t you, Sasha.
” She switches to Spanish, and it lands as fast and painful as an arrow piercing my chest. She’s right.
None of this is me. My eyes well up with tears, but I disguise them behind a sniffle.
I told them about the contract over the phone so they wouldn’t freak out when they saw the headlines.
I explained that things sort of spiraled, and Marissa suggested we make the best out of a bad situation.
I just didn’t have an answer when they asked me why I did it.
Honestly, I don’t know. When I’m out there, onstage, I’m not Sasha.
I’m Sassy. In a way, she protects me. So, I guess it’s my job to protect her as well, the girl people think I am.
“I know he’s a good kid,” Mom says, gentler than Mamá, as she fidgets with the bracelet around her wrist. I made it for her when I was a kid, and she still wears it, the pink beads contrasting against her rich brown skin.
“But I’m a little wary about this whole thing.
You should never feel pressured to come out, but I wouldn’t want you to pretend to be someone you’re not. It never ends well.”
“Yes,” Mamá backs her up. “And I don’t like that there’s money involved—”
The floorboards creak with Kai’s steps as he reappears from the kitchen with a glass of water.
“Eh … long time no see.” He scratches his head. “Liza, Esme.”
My moms freeze. Mamá’s eyes widen, and she curses in Spanish under her breath.
“Kai!” Sonia jumps from the couch and into Kai’s arms. “I’ve missed you. You stopped coming over.”
My heart shrinks. My sister’s always loved Kai and how he used to spoil her.
Kai is an only child, and most of his extended family lives in Brazil, so he loved spending time with Sonia.
She’s almost nine, but she was only six when Kai and I broke up.
I told her he was busy with exams. I didn’t want to tell her she was never going to see him again.
“I know, and I’m sorry. It was my fault. I’ve missed you, too, Soni.” Kai smiles and spins my sister around, his voice catching a little. “You’re so tall. Look at you!”
“Your hair is long!” Sonia tries to reach for the end of Kai’s tiny ponytail. “I can’t decide if it suits you, though. Can I style it?”
“Sure, sure.” Kai puts her down, then sweeps his gaze between me and my moms and squares his shoulders. “Some other time, though. I should leave. Just came to check in on Sasha.”
Mom stands between him and the door. “That’s so thoughtful, Kai. Thank you for stopping by.”
Mom has the softest heart. She’s an empath through and through, but even I can see her reluctance, a certain distance in her voice, like she wants to protect me.
“It’s no problem.” Kai walks toward the door.
“Actually, Kai’s grandpa cooked for us,” I say, pointing at the two bowls sitting by the table. “And Kai stocked our fridge. We were about to start eating.”
It feels unfair to kick him out like this.
Mom and Mamá share a look, and Mamá sighs. “Okay, why don’t you guys get started while we shower and unpack, and we’ll join you in an hour?”
“And tell Mr. Oliveira thank you,” Mom goes on. “We’ll make sure to stop by and bring him something in return.”
“Let’s play Rainbow Road.” Sonia’s quick, reaching for the controller.
“Soni, you have to unpack, too,” Mom says.
Sonia shrugs. “Unpacking is a social construct.”
“Ah, she’s learned that recently,” I say when Kai fights a puff of laughter behind his fist. “Last month she said homework is a social construct.”
“Sonia,” Mamá says again. “Don’t forget you’re still grounded.”
“Grounded?” I ask.
Mamá sighs. “On our last day in Spain, your sister called some kid on the street a colonizer.”
“He literally cut the line in front of me and got the last free churro. I regret nothing.” Sonia flops on the couch and reaches for one of the controllers.
“Anyway, asking a girl to unpack is sexist.” Sonia waves her controller from side to side.
“If I were a boy, I’d be allowed to play Rainbow Road.
It expands my imagination instead of teaching me to do chores. ”
“Soni, o vienes aquí ahora mismo o te quedas sin videojuegos una semana.” Mamá threatens to confiscate Sonia’s games for a week. My sister puts the controller down and acquiesces with a grunt. She knows it’s time to run when Mamá switches to Spanish.
Mamá, Esme, is my biological mom. She had me via donor before she met Mom, Liza, with the help of a male friend she has in Spain.
I don’t remember life before Mom, though.
She’s always been there. They met when I was three thanks to Mia’s mom, who was friends with them both, and they got married when I was five.
I have a vague memory of their wedding, them wearing princess gowns and holding my hands as I waddled to the altar with the rings.
I remember thinking there was something sad about weddings, and that’s the reason people get emotional.
I thought guests were there to say goodbye to my moms because they were never going to see them again once we became a family, as if Mom had chosen us instead of them.
Obviously, I don’t think that now, but I still have this overwhelming feeling that there’s loss tied with joy.
I want to have what my moms have one day. Not because they fell in love, but because they built a home together. I want that. A home. A found family. I just don’t know if that’s in the cards for me as an aroace person.
“Don’t leave before we play Mario Kart,” Sonia tells Kai.
“I won’t.” Kai shakes pinkies with Sonia. “But I won’t show mercy.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” When Sonia smiles, there’s a gap between her teeth, and I realize she must have lost a baby tooth while I was gone.
The thought stirs something in my chest. When did life start going by so fast?
When I was little, each month felt like a lifetime.
Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life?
Soon she’ll be the same age I was when she was born.
Mom had Sonia when I was eleven, through the same donor as Mamá.
We both have the same nose that scrunches when we frown, the same deep brown, almond-shaped eyes, the same lopsided smile.
She’s Black, like Mom, with medium brown skin and warm golden undertones, while Mamá and I are white with olive undertones.
I have dark brown hair with 2B waves, and Sonia has beautiful 3C curls.
One of my favorite childhood memories is of Mom teaching me how to care for and do Sonia’s hair in different styles.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. It feels like it was yesterday; the memories closest to my heart still feel so fresh in my mind.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Kai and I watch TV for an hour until Sonia stumbles into the living room and demands we race her on Mario Kart, and after a couple of hours, my moms join us for a game of Jenga.
My heart feels full in a way it hasn’t for a while.
The initial awkwardness between me and Kai is disappearing, at least when we’re around other people.
But it feels treacherous, like clay that’s been molded but is still wet, like if I hold on to this feeling too tightly, it will collapse.
Maybe it will, I think. But for now I’m whole, so I cast the thought aside, focusing on Sonia’s victorious smile as she drives Kai off Rainbow Road.