10. June 28th
Angie
“Idon’t feel good, Raf,” I announce as we pull into the long driveway of my childhood home.
“No?” he asks, bringing the vehicle to a stop behind several other familiar cars. “Is it your stomach? I have your ginger chews and Tums,” he says, putting the Range in park and digging through the center console.
“It’s not that,” I whine. “I’m nervous.”
“It’s not like your dad has any room to judge. He got your mom pregnant out of wedlock.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I can’t pin-point why I’m nervous. It”s just… It’s a big deal what we’re about to do.”
“I get it. Like by telling them, it’s officially real.”
I let out an unladylike sigh. “Yes.”
His body turns towards me as he rests his head against the seat and smiles. “Yeah. But it’s been fun pretending so far with you,” he says, playfully leaning into my worry. Firmly grabbing my hand, he brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Let’s go make it real, Angel.”
When my stomach flips for an entirely different reason, I take the opportunity to open the door, but Raf gently chastises me. “Absolutely not. I’ll get your door,” he says, jumping out of the SUV and running to my side.
He’s been doing this a lot more lately—the extra layer of chivalry. There’s always been a certain low level he’s maintained throughout our friendship, but it’s reminding me of all our trips to Mexico. As soon as we land, he always kicks it up a few notches. I’ve played it up to the culture there. Men, no matter if they’re a stranger, a friend, or an abuelo, always treat women with reverence. At least that’s been my experience. Doors are always open for me. I’m expected to serve myself first (or be served first). Chairs are made available to me as soon as I walk into a room. I expect it when we go to Mexico—I don’t expect the same level back home. Apparently Rafael’s chivalry is alive and well here in the US now that I’m pregnant.
Can’t say that I hate it.
He’s wearing another white Henley, pushed up to expose his strong forearms, and a pair of navy blue chino short-shorts that some people might find indecent from the way his massive, hair-dusted quads bulge.
Me.
I’m some people.
Damn rugby thighs.
Offering his hand for me to grab as I step down, Rafael eyes me appreciatively, but his gaze takes a longer drag over my chest. “Is that a new dress?”
It’s a sleeveless, red maxi dress with a low v-neckline. I love it because it’s stretchy, flowy, and has pockets.
He’s seen it before.
What”s tripping him up that he’s not putting words to are my growing tits. While I’m ecstatic at their size, I’m not so thrilled about how sensitive and achy my new C cups are.
“I’ve had it for years actually,” I smile, stepping onto the concrete driveway as he hums something that sounds an awful lot like appreciation.
As we approach, 1salsa music is playing from the outdoor speakers, which means Ana has taken over the music already. We’ve disguised tonight’s announcement in the form of an early Independence Day cookout, but it’s no less nerve-wracking as we round the side of the house to the back yard, where Christina is cooking on the grill and Dad is pointing to the foul-smelling meats while holding a beer bottle—most likely questioning Christina’s grilling abilities, which are far superior to his.
The backyard is nearly a half-acre, which is much larger than most of the other houses in the neighborhood, but our house is the smallest by far. We didn’t have much money growing up, and after Mom died, it got even tighter. Dad still works as an engineer, but since all his kids have moved out, he’s been able to cut back on the side projects he did to make ends meet. Small engine repair was what kept us afloat mostly. Everything from push lawn mowers to motorboats my dad could fix. So while he was out financially supporting our family, I was emotionally supporting them at home. He would maintain the house, and I would maintain the family.
Again—parentified child. I might have been upset when I found out what I had become, but it never made me love him any less. It’s complicated between us, yet lately, I can’t help but feel like something’s changing with him.
When Dad spots us, he abandons Christina and makes his way towards us with his arms wide open. “Hey, bunny,” he calls to me, using the first nickname I was ever given thanks to a stuffed animal I was attached to as a baby. His hug is tight and comforting.
“Hey, Dad. I missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
He gives Raf the same level of hug and then offers us each a beer. We take one but I give a stage sip to keep up appearances.
It’s a small gathering tonight. Just me, Raf, Dad, his moms, and my brothers. Joaquín is back in DC still and Ivy is in Guatemala. They’re both aware they’ll be getting a video call soon. Only Joaquín knows why.
Speaking of brothers…
“I thought we were going to be the last ones to show up,” Raf says. “Where’s Jonah?”
“Late as always,” Dad smirks. His features haven’t changed much over the years. Still a wide smile—once so rare that you’d forget his deep laugh lines around the corners of his mouth existed. Still dark brown hair now with a smattering of white around his temples and fading into the sides.
He looks…a lot better than I’ve seen him…ever. There’s a liveliness to him making him seem more youthful. His clothes look new and fit properly. He’s only fifty-six, but when he smiles like he is now, he looks so much younger.
When Jonah makes an appearance an hour later, his shaggy blonde hair is still slightly damp from the obvious shower he took recently. The sun is already lowering, casting this old, forested suburban neighborhood in a beautiful pinkish glow. The yard lights I strung up last year adding to the ambiance.
Ana has been forcing Isaiah to learn to dance with her, which has been comical to say the least. Between their height difference, Ana’s bouncy personality and his grumpy one, it’s been a special night already.
But when Ivy video calls me at our pre-scheduled time, my heart starts to pound in my ears. When Raf sees my phone, he bites his lower lip. “It’s showtime, Angel,” he whispers.
Nodding, I slide open the call and see Ivy’s beautiful face light up the screen. “Ah!” she screams. “How are you? How’s everyone? Let me see everything!”
Chuckling, I say, “We’re good. Here, I’m going to set you down so you can see everyone.”
With Joaquín on Raf’s screen too, he sets down his phone and my entire body temperature drops as stage fright takes over. A big warm hand finds the space between my neck and shoulder, and I look up at my friend standing next to me with a steady smile.
Like he always does.
“Can you?” I plead in a whisper. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Of course. I’ve got you,” he whispers back, then turns down the music on the speaker next to where we’re standing.
“What’s going on?” Dane shouts, then notices the phones on the table pointing toward us. “Who’s on the—” He perches around, leaning over Jonah like he doesn’t exist. “Joaquín?”
“Oh,” Joaquín says, his voice cracking. “Hey, Dane.”
“How are you? What’s going on?” he asks in an uncharacteristically joyful way.
“Okay! Everyone please take a seat,” Rafael announces. “We’ll let everyone catch up on the phones in a minute. But first, we have some news we want to share.”
Ana rolls her eyes. “We already know you two moved in, mijo.”
“It’s not that. We, um…” His shaky hand moves from the crook of my neck and slides down my side to my stomach. “We’re having a baby together.”
Silence.
Silence for all of three seconds before chaos erupts.
Screaming loud enough to puncture eardrums, Ana stands, then squats, repeating the process over and over again as Christina clutches her chest, then clutches Jonah by the arms while still staring at us.
Then the questions start shooting in like machine gun fire.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“What the fuck?”
“How did this happen?”
“Can I be your doula?”
“Are you two together?”
“How far along are you?”
Ana runs up to her son and repeatedly smacks him across the face and chest, cussing him out and praying to God in Spanish. He tries to duck away, but he knows this is something he must take.
But then she catches my eye and stops assaulting her son to cry and pull me into the tightest hug.
“Mija,” she sobs.
I sniffle. “Lo siento.”
“No,” she says sternly. “Do not be. This is good news. This is a blessing.” She releases me and gives Raf a death glare. “You are lucky this happened with her.”
Dane and Jonah jump in a circle and force a shocked Isaiah to join in. “We’re gonna be uncles!” Jonah bellows.
“Oh my god, this was better than I imagined,” Joaquín says from his little perch on the patio table.
Ana whips around to clutch the phone. “You knew about this?” she seethes.
But all that chaos fades away the second I focus on my dad. On my dad who’s crying, which is making me cry because I’ve only seen him tear up at funerals.
Fuck, I didn’t expect this.
Before I can think it through, I’m running into his arms and bawling, “I’m sorry, Dad. It was an accident, I swear.”
I don’t know what has come over me because I’m not sorry at all. But some innocent part of me desperately needs his love and approval right now, and maybe if I apologize, it’ll be easier for him to give it to me.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, bunny,” he soothes as he sniffles and rubs my back gently. “Don’t apologize. Are you happy?”
“Yes,” I sob, fisting the back of his shirt with shaky hands.
“Then I’m happy too,” he says. “It’s surprising, but you’re going to be the best momma.”
I rub my face against his shirt, uncaring that my eye makeup smears everywhere. I pull away enough to look at him. “Thank you, Dad.”
Wiping the tears from my eyes with his thumbs, he smiles through his own. “You can do this, Angela.” Then his focus shifts over my head. Being the shortest member of my family, everyone’s always looking over my head. “And Rafael is the father?” I nod. “By choice or biologically?”
“Both.”
He looks back at me. “Did something happen between you two?” he whispers.
My shoulder lifts. “I mean, something obviously happened but…nothing’s happening, you know?”
“Okay, bunny,” he says, pulling me back into a full embrace and kissing the top of my head. “We’ll follow your lead.”
1.Vivir Mi Vida by Marc Anthony