27. Hey Siri, play “Whatcha Say”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
hey siri, play “whatcha say”
PRESENT
It’s a full house at Melina’s apartment when we get there around noon on Thanksgiving. In addition to Cristian and Ava, Ava’s boyfriend Liam, Melina and Cristian’s youngest sibling Santi, and their mother Linda are in the main area when we walk in.
The space is crowded and loud and happy and everything you want on Thanksgiving.
Santi and Cristian are yelling at the soccer game on television while Liam’s head bounces back and forth between them, as he seemingly struggles to keep up.
Ava tries in vain to corral them to help her clear and set the table, and I hope they start listening soon or she’s going to pick up one of the wooden spoons for serving and smack them with it.
Linda scoops me and Forrest up in a warm hug, kissing my cheekbone before I even have a chance to introduce Forrest. In her eyes, I brought him, so he’s welcome, no matter who he is. Everybody is her family today.
She even kisses Forrest’s cheek when he hands her the flowers we brought. I can see the pink stain from her lipstick on his skin when I slip into the kitchen to drop off the pie and wine we picked up on the way over. I make a mental note to check my own face before heading back out there.
Melina follows me into the kitchen, grabbing my arm the second I set down our additions to dinner and pulling me to the stove where a tall and beautiful woman with straight black hair is stirring something that smells spicy and smoky.
A quick glance in the pan tells me it’s Melina’s special chorizo-based stovetop stuffing, and my mouth starts watering.
She’s made it for me before, but I’ve never been given the honor of being allowed to help with its creation.
“Camilla, this is Jenna,” Melina introduces me to the important woman she’s entrusted her stuffing to. “Jenna, Camilla.”
From chatting with Melina at line dancing, I know Jenna is her girlfriend who she shares this apartment with, and from one look at the expression on Melina’s face, I’ve got a feeling Jenna is it for Melina.
Without stopping her stirring, Jenna pulls me to her in a one-armed hug. Oh yeah, she’ll fit in with the Ruiz family perfectly.
“Camilla, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I want to hear as many stories about you as you have about me,” I say as we separate.
I like Jenna immediately. Her voice is warm, and her eyes are kind. Her hug tells me she’s somebody who knows love. Melina deserves that.
“Deal. What do you want to know?” she asks with a light laugh.
“Everything,” I tease. I think I could see myself being easy friends with Jenna. “I guess start from the beginning? Are you originally from Arizona?”
“Born and raised,” Jenna answers, still keeping one eye on the pan. “My father moved here from Chicago with his family when he was a teenager, but my mother and her family have been here a lot longer than most. My mother and I are White Mountain Apache.”
“Oh!” I say with surprise before realizing what today is. I try to figure out something respectful and appropriate to say.
Jenna’s smile only widens.
“I think I can guess what’s going through your head right now,” she says, her tone still light. “I am just as thankful today as I am every other day for everything I have, and for Melina, and for her family and friends gathering together to celebrate that joy.”
“Wow,” I say, an honest response. “I just… wow.”
“We celebrate a little differently now,” Melina explains.
“We have dishes from both of our cultures and focus on the different kinds of love in our life. If we have the chance to do this again when you have access to more than a hotel kitchen, I’ll be asking you to bring your mother’s homemade sauce. ”
“I think that’s wonderful,” I say, and I secretly hope we can do this again.
“She’s wonderful, no?” Melina says, beaming at Jenna.
“You two are beautiful together, inside and out,” I say.
Then, a cheering shout in the living room behind me draws my attention, and I turn toward it. Melina laughs when I do.
“It’s a goal,” Melina says. “We can check in a second. Come here first. Mama got you.”
When I turn back, Melina is gesturing to my cheek where her mother had kissed me just before.
“Thank you. I meant to check that.” I start rubbing my palm on my cheek.
“That’s not going to be enough for Mama’s lipstick.” Melina chuckles, taking the towel from Jenna’s shoulder and turning to the sink to wet it.
She brings it to me and starts rubbing the spot before switching to her thumb to get the last bit of lip stain off my skin.
“There! I got it,” she announces, and the two of us start laughing, likely both remembering how many other times she’s had to help me with Mama Ruiz’s exuberant hellos.
Somebody loudly clearing their throat from the doorway snatches our attention. The three of us turn and find Forrest standing there, looking rather displeased by something.
At his stern expression, I feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but as far as I know, I’ve done nothing wrong.
Things have been really good the last few days, none of the weirdness from our birthday.
We’ve continued sharing the bed without any awkwardness. It’s actually been… nice.
But now? The room is full of nothing but tense awkwardness.
Maybe something happened in the living room?
Hoping to move on from whatever this is, I introduce Forrest to Jenna.
“Jenna, this is Forrest, my best friend. Forrest, this is Jenna—”
“Hi.” Forrest cuts me off with the curt greeting. “I can see you’re busy in here, so I’ll just catch you later.”
And then he does an about-face and heads back into the living room.
“He seems… nice,” Jenna lies, and I can feel my face heating in embarrassment.
“I am so sorry,” I apologize. “He’s not usually such an ass. I swear.” I flash a look over to Melina, who looks displeased. “I’m really sorry. I’ll talk to him.”
“We all have bad days,” Jenna says, squeezing my forearm. “It’s ok.”
But it’s not, and I go after Forrest to tell him as much. As I pass him, I brush my hand against his, but he continues staring at the television. I never knew him to be much of a soccer fan beyond watching Ted Lasso.
“Forrest,” I whisper urgently, and he finally turns his head to me. “What’s going on?”
“Apparently nothing,” he says, a bite to his tone.
“What does that mean?” I ask, trying to figure out why he’s being such a dick.
“Nothing,” he says. Then he jerks his head over my shoulder. “Time to eat.”
I guess the stuffing was the last thing that needed to be finished because Melina stands in the doorway to the kitchen, announcing dinner is ready. I huff a little, but Forrest fixes a pleasant look on his face and turns away from me.
We file into the kitchen and each grab something from the counters or out of the oven and begin the train to the table.
In addition to Melina’s chorizo stuffing, Jenna made roasted agave hearts and a beautiful salad filled with berries.
Ava and Liam brought a lamb stew that Liam’s Irish family grew up eating, and Linda and Santi brought chipotle mashed potatoes and my favorite—esquites.
I’d eat my body weight in esquites if left unattended.
When we sit at the oval table, Melina is at one end and her mother is at the other.
Jenna, Ava, and Liam are on one side. Then I’m next to Melina with Forrest on my other side and Santi beside him.
Forrest still looks like he licked something sour, and without thinking, I kick him sharply under the table.
His head snaps to me, and I give him a will you chill the fuck out look.
Was it the most mature on my part? No. But he deserved it.
He seems startled for a second, but he takes a breath and appears to relax.
Linda says a quick grace in Spanish, and plates start getting passed around.
“You good?” I mutter, the sounds of serving mostly masking my question.
“Yep,” Forrest says, telling me that while he looks better, he’s still in a foul mood. “I’m fine.”
If we get through this dinner, I might throttle him for being like this.
The meal actually goes surprisingly well if you ignore the fact that Forrest barely speaks and keeps glaring toward my end of the table.
The rest of us are loud enough that I hope nobody but me notices.
A quick glance at Melina tells me she’s clocked his behavior too.
As dinner slows down, Melina starts to get up to collect the dessert options, but I wave her off.
“Forrest,” I say sternly. “Help me carry dessert.”
It’s not a question, and Forrest wordlessly follows me again.
“What is your problem with Melina?” I snap, keeping my voice low. “What happened since line dancing? You seemed to like her when we talked about everyone at golf.”
“Yeah. You’ve been clear about how great you think she is,” Forrest says, and starts unboxing the apple pie we brought. Is it possible to aggressively unbox a pie?
“What is that supposed to mean?” I take the box from his hands and drop it on the counter. I just want him to look at me.
But when he does, there’s fire in his eyes again. I’ve seen it before. Recently, too.
“Oh my god, are you jealous?” I say as my jaw drops in disbelief.
“No,” Forrest says, looking away again. But the lie is the most obvious thing I’ve ever seen.
“Forrest, we’re friends. I told you that,” I snap.
“Sure. I saw how close you were in here before,” he snaps back. This is unbelievable. What does he have to be jealous about? That she got lipstick off my face and then we laughed?
“Forrest, what the fuck? Jenna is Melina’s girlfriend. They live here together,” I tell him. This makes no sense. “Melina and I are only friends. I told you that, and you need to be ok with it.”
At least now he has the decency to look embarrassed.
The silence around us is heavy. I watch him deflate.
“Fuck, you’re right,” he groans, looking ashamed. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t think? I know. But what do you care anyway? You have Bridget,” I snap again. The double standard is bullshit, even if he completely misread the situation. And if I’ve barely thought of Bridget this whole trip…
Forrest’s eyes catch on something at doorway to the living room behind me. I look over my shoulder and find Melina standing there.
“That’s the look of a jealous boyfriend if I’ve ever seen one,” she says, arms crossed. “And not a man with a girlfriend waiting for him back home.”
“Melina, I’m sorry for being so incredibly disrespectful to you and Jenna. I’ll apologize to her too.” He sounds genuine, but I can’t help but notice that none of those words are correcting what she said about his jealousy or Bridget.
“No more bullshit?” Melina checks, picking up the discarded apple pie.
Forrest shakes his head.
“Then we’re good,” Melina says before taking the pie out with her. “You should come back out before people think you’re fucking in here.”
“Forrest,” I say when Melina’s gone and the swinging door has stilled. My head is swimming. “You do have Bridget, right?”