Chapter 19 #2
“I made the sofrito. Jason walked me through it.” Elba looks at me as if she’s expecting me to say more, so I add, “And, uh, I’ll be helping with the cleanup.”
“Do you like to cook?” she asks.
“I hate it.” Which is true. “Lisa’s the one who can cook her butt off. And she bakes too. I tend to just order from DoorDash or Grubhub.” That’s also true. “I’m a lover, not a fighter. I’m an eater, not a cooker. Which means Jason and I are perfect for each other.”
Lisa giggles, Denise clenches her jaw, and Elba flares her nostrils. This is working out just as I hoped it would.
I stare at my sister meaningfully, trying to remind her with my eyes that she has her own role to play this evening. Thankfully, she catches on quickly.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, jumping up from her chair and crossing to the hall closet. She reaches inside and pulls out a black garment bag. With a broad smile, she hands it to Jason’s sister.
“What’s this?” Denise asks tersely, her head cocked to the side as she stands.
“Cami and I thought you’d like this.”
Denise unzips the bag, revealing a two-piece suit that’s cinched at the waist and in the same shade of pale blue as Lisa’s bridesmaid dress.
With her brow furrowed, Denise swings her gaze between Lisa and Cami. “You bought me a suit?”
“No, I made you a suit. Cami and I know you don’t want to wear a gown, so we thought it would be nice to come up with something else. My seamstress skills are a little rough, but I think it’ll work once I take it in at the waist.”
“But I didn’t ask for you to make me a suit,” Denise says, her voice rising. “And you,” she says, addressing Cami. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first? Why go behind my back?”
Cami looks at her sister and blows out an exasperated breath. “Because it was a surprise, Denise. Goodness, we were trying to make you happy. I can see now we’ve only managed to piss you off. How surprising.”
Denise throws up her hands, the garment bag swinging wildly. “And now you’re making me out to be the bad guy. I’m just shocked she would even do this.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Lisa says, her jaw tight.
“See?” Denise says, pointing at Lisa across the table. “This is why I don’t want you to do anything for me. Don’t think I’m beholden to you or some shit. This changes nothing.”
Lisa tilts her head back in frustration. “Jesus, I didn’t expect it to.”
“Mija,” Elba interjects gently, addressing Denise. “Wear whatever you want, but I think it’s nice that you have a choice.”
Her mother’s voice seems to calm her. “Yeah, I guess,” she says as she sits and drapes the bag over the back of her chair.
Lisa and I exchange a furtive glance. This was supposed to be her moment.
An opportunity to show Jason how caring she can be.
And I, for one, know she spent countless hours of her meager spare time this past week obsessing about every aspect of the suit before I even mentioned the idea of using it to gain Jason’s favor.
Per usual, however, Denise is here to muck up our plans.
How could such a sweet gesture cause so much strife?
Camila, bless her heart, monopolizes the conversation from there, obviously wanting to ease the tension generated by Lisa’s gift. As we devour the meal, she shares her and Bryan’s plans for decorating their new place in Santiago. Lisa doesn’t engage much; nor does Denise. The tension’s too fresh.
If there’s a bright spot in the evening, it’s Jason’s food. His pernil and arroz con gandules could go up against my mother’s any day, and that’s truly saying a lot. Is there anything this man can’t do?
When we’re all done, I jump up and gather everyone’s plates.
“I’ll help you,” Jason says as he rises to his feet.
“No, no,” I say, putting an arm out to stop him. “You did all the cooking. Enjoy this time with Camila. She’s leaving soon, and you won’t get to spend time with her like this for a while.”
His eyes soften. “Thank you.”
I turn away quickly, shutting down the flutter that zips through my chest. Sure, this evening hasn’t gone as planned, but I still have a job to do.
Scanning the kitchen, I contemplate how to annoy everyone without totally ruining their special family time.
When my gaze lands on the caldero on the stove, I know exactly what I need to do: throw the pegao in the garbage.
Humming to myself, I spoon the remainder of the rice into a large Tupperware container, then I scrape up the crusty rice bits stuck to the bottom of the pot.
In my family, pegao is its own food group.
When Lisa and I were younger, we competed for the right to clean the caldero because that person would have dibs on the pegao.
And something Gordon Ramsay didn’t understand when he tried his own recipe: Pegao isn’t made; it just happens.
My breath quickens as I lean over to shovel it into the trash bin.
This is Latine heresy. I shake my head. No, I can’t do it.
Not if this is the last authentic Puerto Rican meal Camila will eat before she moves to Chile.
So I spoon it into a small to-go container and hide it in her pantry.
Then I tackle the rest of the dirty dishes.
I’m washing the dinner plates when I hear a gasp beside me. Jackpot.
“Where’s the pegao?” Denise asks, her eyes bulging.
“The what?”
“Pegao, Vanessa. It’s the rice at the bottom of the pot. Thin, crispy, delicious.”
“Oh, I tossed it,” I say nonchalantly.
“What? Why? What is wrong with you?”
Jason comes over and puts his hands out as if he’s refereeing a boxing match. “Hey, hey. What’s going on?”
“She threw out the pegao.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone would want burnt rice.”
“?Madre de Dios!” Jason’s mother mutters, her head bent and her hands folded on the table.
Good thing she’s not looking at me, because if she did, I’d cackle. Out of all the shenanigans I’ve engaged in to annoy them, this might be the one that causes this family to banish me forever.
“It’s not a big deal,” Jason says. “She didn’t know.”
“How is that possible?” Denise counters. “Everyone knows you don’t throw away pegao. I’m starting to wonder if she’s even Puerto Rican.”
“Wow, that’s a low blow,” I say more forcefully than I intended. “And she is standing right here.”
“Must you always be so nasty?” Lisa asks, staring at Denise with daggers in her eyes.
Denise sucks her teeth and storms off down the hallway. Seconds later, the bathroom door slams shut.
I look down at my shaking hands. Well, that went sideways in the worst way. Denise’s reaction, as innocuous as it probably seemed to her, touched a nerve I try really hard to ignore.
Jason leans over me and turns off the faucet. With gentle hands, he steers me away from the others. “She didn’t really mean that.”
“Oh, yes she did.”
“You’re right. She did. And shame on her for questioning your identity. I’ll speak to her about it later.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to hijack this evening any further. This is about honoring Camila, not babying me.”
His lips thin, then he says, “I’m not babying you. I’m caring about you. There’s a difference.”
I whip up my head to meet his gaze, and for a split second, I’m completely lost. What the hell am I doing?
And why am I doing it? I told myself this man needed to be humbled.
I pretended I needed to vet him for my sister.
But all I want to do right now is tuck myself into his side and hug him fiercely.
So the solution, of course, is to get away from him as quickly as I can.
“I’m going to head out and give all of you some time with Camila. ”
He holds on to my hand, as if he doesn’t want to let me go just yet. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”
I ease my hand from his grasp and wave away his concern. “I’m completely fine. Please don’t worry about me.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think I have a choice.”
Our eyes meet, and my mouth goes dry. There’s such yearning in his expression. It’s as strong as the yearning in my heart. No, no, no, no, no. I need to shut this shit down. Whatever he’s feeling. Whatever I’m feeling. It’s not right. It never will be. “I really need to get home.”
“Okay,” he says, threading his fingers through his hair. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m good. Please. Go check on Denise.”
“All right.”
When I look up, Lisa’s staring in our direction, her head tilted as if she’s seeing us in a new light. If she needs assurances that we’re still on track, I’ll give them to her later. I can’t do it now.
Before I go, I tip my chin up at Camila. “There’s a small to-go container of pegao in the pantry. I saved it for you and only you.”
She blows me a kiss, and I return her much-needed affection with the same gesture. Seconds later, I’m out the door.
I don’t exactly know what happened back there, but I won’t beat myself up about it.
Even in college, I had off days as a starter ex, so I’m not concerned.
That’s what this is: an off day. I’ll be in top form again in no time.
All I need to do is remember my assignment: Be the catalyst for a relationship between Lisa and Jason.
Unfortunately, to do that, I also need to erase any inkling of my attraction to my sister’s crush, and with each day that passes, that task seems more and more undoable.