Yael
“And that's not only how I won the tournament that summer… but my girl.”
“Liar, tell them the truth,” Adri grumbles.
“Shit, this is my point of view,” I nervously tell her.
“See your way out.” I wink at the gorgeous woman cleaning the tables—as she gets ready for lunch rush.
You see, we have people who can do those simple tasks, but my girl likes to get her hands dirty.
“Todavia*, Yael.” Adri stops, with a pop of her hip and stares at me.
Fine, maybe I did lose the final game, but it didn’t matter. In the end, I won the ultimate prize.
Adri pops her hip out. “They deserve the truth. I beat you. Fair and square.”
“Only cuz I let you win,” I tease, knowing damn well I went with all I have and ended up losing it all—my heart, my name, and my pride.
Because of course, like the lovesick fool I've been, I married this beautiful woman the first chance I got.
We lost the bodegas that day, but in the ashes of that, we built something our grandparents never got a chance to make.
With the blessing of our families, we united the stores by bridging them with rows of umbrellas that hang over the street that separates us.
It’s no longer two families but one, Alma Gemelas Colmadon.
Home to anyone who likes good food, has rhythm en los pies, and knows how to play a good hand.
You’d fit right in here, corazón. Look—bright yellows, oranges, and reds stretch over the tables, tiles click like music, and the smell of coffee and fried pastelitos drifts through the block.
Every summer, the tournament returns and, of course, we host it.
It’s tradition.
And if you think that sharing a last name and everything between us ended the rivalry… you’re so wrong. It only heightened it. I can’t go through my life letting her believe quenepas are limoncillos, or that mangu is better than mofongo.
Everything is a competition and compromise, in the game of love.
The END….
* Todavia - Still