Chapter Twenty-Six
Solange
Natalia answers the door, a sleeping Sebastian wrapped in a blanket and cradled in her arms. “It’s about time you came to see me!” she yells.
I gesture at the baby. “Shh. You’ll wake him.”
“Don’t shush me, bitch.” Spinning around, she adds, “I have a very important job these days.”
I follow her into the house. “Yes, I get it, but how is speaking more quietly going to interfere with that?”
She gives me a “duh” expression. “This kid needs to get used to his very loud mother. So I’m starting him out young. All of the parenting guides say if you make your home unnaturally quiet, a baby will respond to every little thing and—”
“Obviously that isn’t going to happen here,” I mutter.
“You’re lucky I’m curious about the contents of that bag,” she says, pointing at my shopping tote. “Otherwise, I’d tell you to turn right around and come back when you learn how to respect your elders.”
Ah, yes. The “respect your elders” refrain. To Natalia, our two-year age difference means I’m young enough to be her daughter. It’s ridiculous, but I’ve come to accept that, just as there are dog years, there are cousin years too. I’ve also come to ignore it. Besides, today I have a far more important matter monopolizing my attention: the little bundle in my cousin’s arms.
As I stare at Sebastian, I can practically feel my heart expanding to accommodate the extra love for this newest member of our family. “He’s beautiful, Natalia. Congrats to you and Paulo, and may he always be happy, healthy, and safe.”
“Thanks, Sol,” Natalia says, beaming as she looks down at her son. “Paulo and I are still pinching ourselves.”
A chorus of laughter erupts in the kitchen. “The gang’s all here, huh?”
“Yeah,” Natalia says. “They’ve cleaned the house, started the laundry, organized Sebastian’s nursery, and prepared enough food to sustain us through the apocalypse. Dinner should be ready soon.” She leans forward and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Tia Viviane even purchased condoms. For later, she said. But I swear, the only penis I’ll be seeing for the foreseeable future is Sebastian’s when I bathe or change him.”
“Is there anything that could possibly fall into the category of TMI for you?”
“You mean, like the fact that Paulo and I regularly use butt plugs to spice up our sex life?”
Jesus. “Yes. Like that.”
“Nope,” she says matter-of-factly.
Shaking my head, I guide her down the hall. “C’mon, I want to show you the goodies I brought.”
When we enter the living area, a cacophony of voices greets us. Lina and Jaslene are prepping food in the kitchen, my mother and aunts are lounging on the couch, and Rey is sitting in an armchair, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.
Natalia doesn’t even let me present the gifts—massage vouchers for the grown-ups, ridiculously adorable clothes for Sebastian, and a white noise machine for his room. She simply grabs the bag and heads upstairs, (loudly) explaining over her shoulder that she needs to put Sebastian down for a nap.
I cross the room to my mother and kiss her forehead. “Oi, Mãe.”
“Oi, filha,” she says without losing her place in her conversation with her sisters.
I kiss Tia Mariana and Tia Viviane, then round the island to join Lina and Jaslene.
“There you are,” Lina says, a cutting board of diced onions and whole tomatoes on the counter in front of her. She dabs her eyes with a tissue, then grabs a knife. “We were wondering if you’d show up. Your mom said you passed on gardening today.”
“Wasn’t in the mood,” I say, shrugging. “Still tired from all the fake dating with Dean. We’re finally done, though.”
“In more ways than one, I hear,” Lina says, narrowing her eyes. “Want to fill us in on what happened?”
It figures that Lina would already know Dean and I are no longer spending time together. Dean tells Max everything, and Max tells Lina everything. Together, the three of them could supply Page Six with a year’s worth of gossip. Not wanting to discuss Dean, I ignore Lina’s remark and focus on the food they’re preparing. “What are you two making, by the way?”
“Picadillo,” Jaslene says. “Lina’s been literally begging me for the recipe for my empanadas, and I didn’t want her to embarrass herself any longer, so I caved. The filling’s almost ready.”
I lean in and take a whiff. “Smells delicious.”
Jaslene plucks a spoon from the dishwashing rack, dips it into the picadillo, and presents it to me. I open my mouth, but before I can snag a taste, Lina lowers Jaslene’s outstretched hand.
My eyes snap up to my cousin’s. “What?”
“I’ll repeat my question: Want to fill us in?”
Jaslene sets the spoon down and claps. “Oh, bring on the bochinche.”
“No, no, no,” I say, shaking my head. “We’re not gossiping about what should remain between Dean and me. All I’m going to say is that we went beyond the fake part, then decided we wouldn’t work as a real couple.”
Natalia appears at the foot of the stairs, just a few feet away. “Wait. You and Dean stopped pretending and hooked up for real? Why am I just hearing about this?”
Until now, my mother and aunts have been chatting with one another, seemingly oblivious to my conversation with Lina and Jaslene. But Natalia’s big mouth alerts them that there’s a more interesting discussion to be had. I know this because their voices grow quieter—so they can talk among themselves and listen to us at the same time. Latinx mothers have superhuman hearing that can detect both gossip and children behaving badly at vast distances and beyond concrete walls.
Unsurprisingly, the migration begins soon thereafter. Tia Viviane drifts over and pretends to be looking for something. Tia Mariana offers to roll out the dough for the empanadas. My mother locates the cleaning wipes and focuses on ridding the counters of crumbs.
“I’m not doing this with y’all,” I say, unable to temper the exasperation in my voice.
The tias glance at each other, then, as if they’re some sort of Brazilian outpost of the Avengers team, they assemble in the living room and motion for me to join them. This is an interrogation—and an intervention, possibly.
My gaze bounces between my mother and her sisters.
“You don’t look happy, filha,” Tia Viviane says. “Do we need to hurt Dean?”
It warms my heart that she cares. Truly. I couldn’t ask for a better support network than these women. Add in my cousins, who learned their “família primeiro” mantra from the sisters, and I’m blessed with all the backup any person could ever need.
“No need to inflict bodily harm on Dean,” I tell them.
Tia Mariana paces in front of the sofa as she studies me, her head tilted and her lips pursed. It’s not difficult to guess where Lina gets her detective skills from. “Then what’s going on?”
I wish I had a succinct answer, ideally one that would whittle down what happened between us into a few words and shut down this conversation. Dean and I are so much more than a sentence or two, however, and these women are relentless. “It would take forever to explain, but in the end, we’re not a good match. I’m looking for love. Dean isn’t. He wants someone who fits into his perfectly ordered life, and I certainly don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
“Nothing’s ever that simple,” Tia Viviane says. “Emotions are complicated, sweetheart. You don’t always get to choose how you feel about someone. Sometimes your heart makes the decision for you.”
I return her steady gaze. “I get it, Tia. But sometimes your heart doesn’t know what’s best for you, and it’s your job to steer it in the right direction. Choosing to give your all to someone is no small thing. It needs to be absolutely right. If it isn’t, you’re destined for disaster.”
My mother sighs. “You know what your problem is?”
“I wasn’t aware I had a problem,” I say under my breath.
“You do,” my mother replies bluntly. “Solange, you’re scared to make a bad decision because you think it will change the course of your life. But, filha, think about it: Making no decisions can change your life too.” She snags the space between Tia Viviane and me and takes my hand. “I’m not talking about which shoes you’re going to wear. Or what you’re going to eat for breakfast. I’m talking about the important stuff: what you want to do with the gifts you have, who you want to spend your time with, where you want to plant roots. You told me the other day that you don’t want to wake up one morning and discover that you’re stuck.” Mãe squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry to tell you, but—”
I know what she’s getting at, and she’s right: “But I’m already spinning my wheels, aren’t I?”
She nods. “Your father changed my life, yes. But not in the way you think. Filha, he gave me you, and you are the farthest thing from a mistake that I can think of. I’m not trapped, or stuck, or anything else. I’m satisfied with my choices. Can you say the same?”
All I can say is that I’m tired of treating every opportunity or person as a potential booby trap.
“I’ll tell you something else,” my mother continues. “Castle Florists in Rockville offers a floral design class in the fall.” She winks at me. “I’m thinking about taking it.”
My heart swells. Just the thought of my mother doing something entirely for herself brings tears to my eyes. I raise our clasped hands and kiss her palm. “You’re amazing, and I’m so blessed to be your daughter.”
My mother stands and lightly bops me on the nose. “Yes, I know I am the bomb, as you kids say.”
“No one says that,” Rey adds, remaining motionless in the armchair but plainly eavesdropping.
We ignore him. It’s our shared superpower.
“Okay, enough of this,” Tia Mariana says as she walks to the kitchen. “While you figure out your life, I’ll be frying empanadas. Who’s helping?”
Tia Viviane gives her thighs a forceful pat, then stands. “I am.”
The flurry of activity is comforting. When everyone’s busy, no one’s paying attention to me. I prefer it that way. Because I don’t have any answers. Just feelings. Lots and lots of confusing feelings.
As Jaslene and the tias work in the kitchen, Natalia and Rey set the table. I’m poised to join them, but Lina blocks my path.
“You want to hear my take?” she asks.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me even if I don’t.”
She pushes me away playfully. “Well, smartass, I think you operate as a one-woman show.” She sweeps her arm in an arc. “But look around you, prima. Every person in this room would catch you if you fell. So go big, make mistakes, and learn from them. I certainly did, and I’m doing okay.”
I draw back. “Are we talking about Dean or Victory Academy?”
“Could be both,” she says, shrugging. “But I’ll say this: You have a whole-ass family that adores you here. You have ideas you want to implement at Victory. You have students waiting for your guidance. Where’s the impasse?”
Although my instinct is to challenge her observations, I say nothing as I watch her walk away. In my mind, self-preservation means you avoid making the kinds of mistakes that will break your heart. But my mother and Lina are right: Being so afraid to make a mistake has led me to build a life that’s hollow in the places that matter the most.
Rey lumbers over and motions for me to join him on the couch. Oh God, what now?
I’ve always regarded Rey as a big brother, a role he eased into over the years as his own self-confidence grew, but sometimes he tries to elevate that role to father-figure status, and it’s cringey. I’m mentally praying this isn’t one of those times.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he says.
“Don’t tell me you have advice too,” I mutter.
“No, I was just wondering if you’d be willing to give me Dean’s number.” Rey waggles his eyebrows. “He seems more promising than the average white guy. Since you’re not interested in him in that way, I figured—”
“Shut up, Rey,” I say flatly.
He smirks at me. “So stingy with your booty calls.”
I’m tempted to wrestle Rey to the ground and make him cry uncle, but he’s built like a man who can kick anyone’s ass, and I’d probably sprain something in the process. “Don’t disrespect him like that. Dean’s not a booty call.”
“With all this hand-wringing, I can tell,” Rey says, his expression smug and knowing. “As one of the most prolific poets of our time, Lin-Manuel Miranda, once wrote, ‘Fucking is easy, young man, loving is harder.’”
I puff out my cheeks. Should I even claim this person as a relative? “He never wrote that.”
“Did too.”
I reach over and squeeze Rey’s hand. “You’re a mess, and I love you for it, but leave the advice to Lina and the tias. Please.”
Besides, they’ve given me enough to think about. Now I just need to figure out how to move forward.