Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
Are you freaking out?”
Theo rubs his palms on his jeans, I suspect because they’re sweaty. He glances away from the blue painted door and down at me with wide, alarmed eyes. His smile is shaky, but when I reach for his (sweaty, indeed) hands, it eases into something more relaxed.
“Maybe a little,” he admits.
“Stop worrying! She’s going to love you.”
“I can’t help it.” His voice pitches higher than normal. He takes a step back off the doormat, pulling me with him. I stay on the top step so we can talk at eye level. “I’ve never been in a meet-the-parents situation before. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m the guy they warn you to stay the hell away from.”
“You were never really that guy.” I roll my eyes. When he shrugs, I squeeze his hands. “And it’s one parent, so that should cut the pressure in half. Come on—” I tug him back toward the front door, succeeding only because his guard is down. His eyes grow comically wide as I ring the doorbell of my mother’s house.
“Mija!” My mom pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, and I sink into her warmth. I pat her dark hair before pulling back from her. Her dark brown eyes flick over my shoulder. “And this must be the novio who took you away from me. Come in, come in.”
She pulls Theo into a hug next. He towers over her, her head barely reaching his chest. My heart warms as I watch his hands squeeze her shoulders affectionately, the way his eyes crinkle from the smile he greets her with.
We follow her down the hall to the dining table. Theo’s eyes roam the pictures hanging on the walls. The home I grew up in hasn’t changed much since I left for college. The light blue paint in the living room looks fresh, even though the shade has stayed the same. The cherry wood table near the front door is littered with mail and a ceramic bowl of keys. The smell of my mother’s cooking wafts from the kitchen, filling my nostrils with the scent of spiced ground beef and fresh bread. I may not live here anymore, but this house will always be home.
Theo pauses at a gigantic gold picture frame above the living room mantel. Twelve-year-old me is standing in front of a white backdrop, holding up the long skirts of a purple folklórico dress. My face burns as he grins and points at my chubby, adolescent cheeks. I bat his hand away, gripping his wrist and dragging him into the kitchen with all my might.
“I’ve got conchitas on the stovetop and tortillas fresh off the comal, so you two better be hungry.”
“I’m always hungry,” Theo tells my mom. She flashes her teeth, and I can tell she likes him already.
We serve ourselves soup and tortillas in my mom’s gigantic, mismatching serving bowls and take a seat at the dining table. My mom asks us what we want to drink, and when we tell her, she grabs two cans of Coke from the fridge.
Theo’s nerves evaporate as he gushes over my mom’s cooking. Her cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink at the compliments, and she even gets up from the table to serve him seconds. He finished his first bowl in record time, considering my own is still piping hot.
“Thank you for the meal, Ms. Ortiz,” Theo says, ever polite. Even though he has a good foot and a half on my mother, his voice is that of a terrified ninth grader. I rest a hand on his knee to stop its shaking. He stops, glances at my face, and takes a deep breath.
My mom’s smile is kind. I warned her beforehand that he was nervous about lunch. “Of course! Thank you for coming, even though I know you were scared to.” He freezes, and she rushes to reassure him. “No, no, that’s fine! I was nervous the first time I met Marcela’s grandparents. Of course, I was pregnant at the time—”
“We really don’t need to rehash the story,” I say, but my mother sighs, completely ignoring me.
“My life didn’t turn out the way I planned, but I made damn sure my daughter could have a good life.” She goes on. “I told her to ignore the boys and focus on school. And look at her now—not just one, but two degrees!” I blush, even if I am a bit pleased. “And a career! I was worried when she said she wanted to major in English—”
“Mom—”
She ignores me. “Especially because she insisted she didn’t want to teach, which is what I wanted her to do. You’ll always have job security in that field. They say it all the time on the news, We need teachers, we don’t have enough teachers—”
“I’m not a teacher,” I say, even though she’s not listening. Theo is rapt, his attention squarely on my mother. “The point was to become a librarian, which I am now.”
“Or nursing!” She brightens, as if just remembering. “There are never enough nurses, either. And I’m sure you’d make much more money, but then, you’d also have to work more hours—”
I don’t try to interrupt this time. This is just the way she is, dreaming up big ideas that are never for her. She goes on until she circles all the way back to her first point, which in true fashion, turns out to be mortifying.
“… Which is why I gave her condoms when she went off to college.”
I choke on my drink, fizz burning the back of my nostrils. Theo covers his smile with a hand.
“So she wouldn’t end up like me.” Her eyes soften. She reaches for my hands, which I reluctantly give her. Theo glances over at me, concern furrowing his brows. “You did it right. You waited until you finished school and settled into a good job. You put yourself first before finding a man to settle down with. That’s the way you should do it.”
My skin heats at the implication. “You make it sound like we’re getting married or something.” I shake my head. All of a sudden, I’m the nervous one.
My mom waves a hand, as if that’s another moot point. To her, I guess it is. “You will.” I nearly choke on my own saliva. Theo has the nerve to hide a laugh—at me—behind his hand. “Maybe to Theo, maybe to someone else. Or maybe you won’t marry at all.” I tilt my head, wondering if she’s about to go off on a second tangent. “The point is I’m proud of you, no matter what you choose to do with your life.” She reaches for Theo’s hand. Hers is small and bony compared with his giant one. His hand curls around hers gently. “No matter who you choose to spend it with. I trust you, mijita de mi vida.”
My eyes sting, even as I try to blink the tears away. I trust you. For so long, I haven’t even trusted myself to make that decision. But now…
I meet my mother’s warm brown eyes, the ones she gave me, crinkled at the corners. Then I look at Theo’s. I used to think they were twin storms, but they’re the calmest eyes I’ve ever looked into. A glittering ocean that washes peace over me.
“There. I’ve said my piece,” my mom says with a crooked smile. “Let me go get the photo album. I have so many stories to share.”
Theo looks up, an excited gleam in his eyes even as I throw my head back and let out a groan. So many embarrassing stories, more like. My mom leaves the table, and Theo gets up to follow. When I slowly rise from the table, he turns back to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, and I suspect my smile is watery. “I just didn’t know relationships could be like this.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…” I take a moment to form the right words. “Like something you take day by day.”
His smile comes easily. “Hey. Come here.” I get up from the table and sink into his outstretched arms. “I’m right where I belong. Are you?”
I nod into his chest.
“That’s all that matters,” he tells me.
As my mother returns from her bedroom with three gigantic, floral-print albums, she calls us into the living room to look through them. With Theo and me on either side of her, she introduces my first boyfriend to my childhood via photographs. I don’t care that we started out as rebounds, or if this is only a stop to something bigger. Nothing feels bigger than this.
In this moment, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.