IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, Sylvia meticulously adjusted her off the shoulder cuff of the blouse to make sure it was exactly even. Behind her a mountain of rejected outfits spilled off the edge of the bed. She wanted to make a good impression. Santiago was introducing her to his friends, she was going to be the first one in the house too. He told her she was charming and likable. They would love her.
Doubts crept in as she wondered if she would fit in.
What if he was wrong?
What if they did not like her?
She did not want to embarrass Santiago by acting like a weirdo. She could tell him she was sick. That would work. He would go without her and she would have enough time to think of a hundred more excuses for why she could not meet his friends.
It was a party. Sylvia loved parties.
Santiago was her friend. He would be with her the whole time so even if things got awkward she could lean on him. It was no big deal.
Knocking on the door nearly sent her flying through the ceiling. “I’m ready! I’m ready!”
It was a pleasant surprise that Sylvia tagged along for the trip. With how long she had taken to get dressed he thought she might have been having second thoughts.
Santiago would be surrounded by his friends. He knew they would take to her well.
Maybe too well.
He would set his boys straight on that quickly.
She was a sweet girl.
Nosy, but sweet.
She did a better job cross examining him than any lawyer ever had. Santiago figured it was morbid curiosity that compelled her to ask questions she did not want the answers to. Regardless, she opened up to him. Kept her mouth shut about the fight. Mostly.
Least he could do was be honest with her.
At least now he could show her a part of his life that was not dangerous or painful.
The smile crept across his face as he walked down the familiar street. Lola’s family had lived in this house for as long as he had known her. Santiago had more memories in this house than any place he ever called home.
The weathered façade was brightened up with colorful pots filled with blooming flowers. The porch was lined with mismatched chairs, a small table top whose legs were lost long ago now perched atop a stack of plastic crates.
They hadn’t made it up the drive when the boys barreled out of the house. Jesus leapt over the chain-link fence, cap flew off as he collided with him.
“Santiago! You bastard!” He rocked him in an attempt to swing around the much larger boy as he laughed.
Santiago ruffled the coarse mahogany waves even Jesus’s annoyed nose scrunch could not dim his toothy grin. Santiago embraced the other boys as they came to him. Some of the girls wiped at their eyes before they embraced him tightly.
Marisol full lips trembled, doe brown eyes glistened, “Don’t you ever do that shit again.”
Santiago chuckled, “I’ll try.”
The raucous laughter died down as Alejandro stood on the porch staring stone-faced at him. Dark circles under his eyes. His features were sharper than usual making the boy who was always about the same size as him look gaunt and small.
Santiago’s eyes trailed down to the boy’s forearms splotched with bruises.
Lola nudged Sylvia along to follow the others inside leaving the boys alone.
Santiago felt a lump in his throat. Lola had told him it was bad. It still didn’t prepare him for it. “Alejo.”
Alejandro was breathing heavily, his expression pained.
“I saw you. I saw you on the floor.” He shook his head, tapping the side of his temple. “You were gone. Half your face was splattered on the floor. How the fuck are you here?”
His shoulders trembled as he tried to choke back sobs.
Santiago grabbed a hold of the weeping boy as his knees buckled. He felt so frail as he clung to him.
“I don’t know how. I just am.” Santiago let out a shaky breath, “I’m here, I got you.”
----------------------------------------
Photographs filled every wall. Some looked like they had been hanging there for longer than Sylvia had been alive. Plastic mats that were cracked in places rested on the floor worn from years of foot traffic. The sofas were filled with endless amounts of colorful throw cushions, arranged around a well-loved coffee table. Handcrafted ceramics and glass figurines were cloistered on every horizontal surface.
Sylvia even spotted a younger Santiago amidst the scads of photographs.
The whisk of the front screen door caught her attention. Santiago returned alone.
“He went home to get some sleep.” Santiago said, “I’ll check in with him again tomorrow.”
Lola nodded.
Nestled into a svelte pink armchair a knit blanket rested over Tia Gloria’s lap where she sat watching the TV.
Santiago gave the woman’s hand a squeeze muttering to her in Spanish he gave her a kiss on the cheek. The old woman grinned and patted the hand that rested over her own.
“She’s your Aunt.” Sylvia whispered curiously to Lola the woman looked old enough to be a grandmother.
“No, she’s my grandma’s aunt. So we all call her Tia.” Said Lola.
Sylvia’s eyes were wide as they approached the withered woman.
“Tia, this is Sylvia.” Lola pulled the girl forward.
Bleary eyes looked over her with a smile. “Parece una bonita chinita.”
Sylvia deflated. “She thinks I’m Chinese.”
Lola snorted. “Kinda of she like is saying you look like a pretty Chinese girl.”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“I’m Korean.”
“Ella es Coreana.” Lola repeated.
“Una vez salí con un hombre Coreano.” Tia nodded sagely, “Héctor es totalmente mexicano o medio Coreano.”
Santiago burst into a fit of laughter.
“Tia! Oh my god. Let’s go. Let’s go.” Lola ushered them out of the living room.
Sylvia was at a total loss. She looked to Santiago. He simply shook his head saying he would explain later.
As the back door opened the waft of charcoal smoke, sizzling carne asada and freshly made tortillas was thick in the air. There were even more people in the backyard that were waiting to greet Santiago. Some were Lola’s family as the girl went through and introduced her to everyone while Santiago was whisked off someplace else.
Tears mingled with laughter as he was clutched tight by Lola’s mother, Lucia. The most pious among them surrounded him to whisper a heartfelt prayer of gratitude over the boy. Lucia bowed her head in reverence as one of the women recited the blessing. Santiago stood silently gently running his thumb over the old woman’s hands. Gnarled from arthritis and Lucia’s years behind a sewing machine selling handmade goods to keep the family afloat. No matter how little their family had they always welcomed him to their home as if it was his own.
The children circled him with laughter as they fought for their turn to swing from his arms.
The vibrant, sun-drenched backyard of the Rodriguez family buzzed with anticipation for the prodigal son’s return. Under the canopy of a sprawling oak tree, the family had transformed the space into a lively fiesta to celebrate Santiago’s return.
Sylvia sat under the shaded overhang with some of the other women.
“You thirsty mija,” The older woman asked. “You want tea, soda, beer?”
“Beer?” Said Sylvia.
She nodded and went to dig in one of the coolers.
Sylvia looked to the girl beside her who laughed. “I can’t drink.”
“Then don’t ask for beer, dummy.” Lola laughed.
“Are you drinking?”
“Yeah.”
“They let you do that.” Said Sylvia disbelieving.
“Well, there’s not much they gonna be able to do to stop us from getting it. So, we all chip in to get better booze.”
“Oh,” Sylvia took the frosted bottle from the woman. “Thank you.”
Her face screwed up as the bitter liquid burned her tongue.
The woman around the table laughed.
“You can get something else, girl, you don’t have to drink that.” Said Lola. “Go and grab a plate.”
“Oh, thank god.” She went up to the table groaned under the weight of delectable dishes lovingly prepared by the Rodriguez matriarchs. At the center of the buffet table was a platter piled high with succulent carne asada, marinated to perfection with a blend of spices and citrus juices. The tender charred meat beckoned Sylvia with its smoky fragrance.
Nestled beside it was a steaming pot of arroz con frijoles the rice sauteed with onions, garlic and tomato while creamy pinto beans simmered to perfection offering the perfect hearty accompaniment to the savory meats.
Nearby, a tray of golden empanadas with their flaky, buttery crusts made it onto her plate. Crescent-shaped delights had a filling of seasoned ground beef, spinach, onion and cheese.
Naturally with her sweet tooth she found her way to the cake. Fluffy tres leches, soaked in a decadent blend of milks and topped with a cloud of whipped cream offered a delicate sweetness.
Sylvia returned to the table with a plate piled high and a cup of punch.
It was a little intimidating to sit there with a bunch of people she did not know. The older generation of aunts and uncles filled with vivacity and an infectious zest for life. These married couples drank and turned the concrete patio into a makeshift dance floor.
Cousins of all ages run freely through the halls, their laughter an energy filling the air. The older children too grown to run and play and too young to want to converse with their boring elders sat beneath the shade of an umbrella on a small patio set engrossed in their cellphones.
She ate quietly trying to keep up with the conversation that would bob between languages.
Sylvia scanned the yard looking for signs of Santiago.
“That is such a cute outfit.” Marisol plucked at Sylvia’s blouse as she sat down at the table.
“Oh this,” Sylvia smiled. “I thrifted this. It was a tablecloth that I sewed into a top.”
“No, you didn’t! You make your own clothes.” Said Marisol.
“Sometimes.” That was all it took to get her going she started blathering about clothes with the girls. Then it was TV shows. Then it was food.
When she felt the palm on her shoulder she looked up. “There you are.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you like that—” Said Santiago.
“It’s okay.” Sylvia laughed, “I’ve been talking to the girls.”
Santiago smiled, his head tilted. The girl was bubblier than usual, her cheeks flushed.
She took a sip from the red solo cup.
“Uh, Sylvia.” Santiago leaned close to her ear, “How much of that you had?’
“Huh, the punch.” She raised a brow, “I’ve had a few cups. It is super good.”
“I know. You know there’s alcohol in it?”
She gasped, taking another sip she smacked her lips, “What? No! It doesn’t even taste like it.”
“Oh jeez you are white girl wasted.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, make sure you eat.”
“I did. The food is sooo good.” She chirped.
----------------------------------------
Sylvia had the best time. She danced with Marisol sung loudly and off key to some of their favorite songs.
They spent a few hours splashing around in the pool. She played volleyball in the pool. Failed to score a point though she did manage to pelt the ball hard enough to knock down the neighbor’s bird feeder that dangled from the tree.
As the party wound down people trickled out the door until only a handful of Santiago’s friends were left.
They sat around in the jacuzzi chatting with one another.
“We have to head out.” Marisol said sorrowfully, “We got my cousin's birthday party tomorrow.”
She waddled through the water to give Santiago and Sylvia a hug good-bye.
“Don’t be a stranger, girl.” Marisol slapped Santiago’s shoulder. “And you. I better see you soon.”
Jesus and him exchanged a quick half hug before the couple left.
Lola climbed out with them, “I’m going to see them out and take out the trash. I’ll be back in a few.”
Santiago leaned his head back enjoying the heated jets beat against his back. The cool night air chilled his bare shoulders.
Sylvia cradled the cup in her palms as she watched the boy. His soaked hair dripped down and followed the angles of his collar bones down his chest. She hadn’t realized he had a couple of tattoos.
“Always towards better things.” Santiago said.
She blinked, “What?”
He ran his thumb across the Latin inscription under his right collar bone. “It’s what my dad had inscribed on this.”
Santiago turned over the crucifix pendant in his hand leaning in close. She set aside her drink to take the round metal in her hands to examine it.
Sylvia looked up at him, breath hitched when she realized how close they were.
Rose tinted cheeks warmed to a deep scarlet. Gaze locked with him. Under the warm glow of the hanging lights, she could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes.
Setting the pendant back down her fingertips brushed against his chest. His eyes never left hers and she couldn’t look away.
He leaned lips gently brushing against hers.
The feeling was electric, butterflies fluttered in her belly. Between the buzz in her head from the drink to the heat of the water everything spun. She gripped onto him for dear life.
His arms wound around her waist. Her hands knotted in his hair.
Leg’s wound around his hips. She moaned into his mouth.
He pulled her tight against him.
Sylvia could still taste the bitterness of alcohol and fruit that lingered.
Santiago’s hand glided up her back brushing past the thin string that held her bikini top on. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pull it loose and feel what was underneath.
He pulled away to trail kisses down the column of her throat, listening to her breath catch.
Sylvia gave a tug on his hair. He found his way back to her parted lips.
He was content with this. The warmth of her skin against his. The way her nails bit into his skin as she clung to him.
Then as abruptly as it started it came to an end.
She pulled away from him sharply. “Wait, no!”
Santiago froze looking her over, “What?”
“I can’t do this.” She slunk back against the tub walls wrapped her arms around herself. “I want to go home.”
Santiago blinked, slicking his hair back and he sat back against the jacuzzi. “Okay.”