“The three of you are such prudes. How do you think you got here? I’ll tell you now, i
t wasn’t because I did my duty with the lights off.” She stood and put more food on their plates even though no one had finished their first servings. “You just wish you had a mama who went to church and was easier to scandalize.”
“No. That kind of mother would have disowned us,” Fidel pointed out. “And then we’d die of malnutrition because we’re all too lazy to cook.”
“True.” She sighed. “I’m just saying you know damn well why you’re all so open minded about love. Papa’s genes won out there, even if you’re all pretty like me.” She smiled, but there was still sadness there.
He’d been gone five years, but they still struggled with it – their mother most of all. Their father had been an artist – wild, gifted. Mayte was just as talented, even though their styles were completely different. Rodrigo had his own fair share of artistic talent, which he’d turned into money with tattooing, but he’d realized he’d never go far in the gallery circuit. His art was too fanciful and dark for most buyers. So much art had happened in this house. Growing up, their home had never been lonely or boring.
Well, now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. “Mama, have you heard of poly?”
“Poly?” she asked, frowning. “Is that something you buy at one of those sex stores?”
Mayte laughed. “No! That’s when you’re in a relationship with more than one person at the same time.”
“Like a threesome? Sure. Four. Whatever. Depended on who was visiting. That was back before Rodrigo came along though. No wild parties after the babies came.” She shook her head, smiling as though at a fond memory. “When Papa was stuck on a piece, sometimes he’d invite Joe and Qiang over and they’d take turns –” She cut herself off, blinking. “Sorry. Forgot you didn’t want details.”
They stared at her in mute horror. Joe and Qiang were like uncles to them, and Rodrigo really didn’t want to know how that sentence had been about to end.
“I think Ro meant an actual relationship, Mama. Not a gangbang.” Fidel raised his brows and sipped from his wine glass.
“Is four people even enough to qualify as a gangbang?” Mama asked sweetly. “I think there needs to be at least five.”
Mayte made a gagging sound, and Fidel grimaced at Rodrigo.
Their mother looked around the table from one of them to the next, her expression puzzled. “Don’t you remember Viveka?”
At one point their parents had taken in a young German immigrant, and she’d been around long enough she’d almost been family.
“She lived here for three years. Why wouldn’t we remember her?” Mayte said, rolling her eyes.
Realization struck, and all of them stared at their mother.
“I always did think it was weird she slept in your room,” Fidel said, incredulous.
“It was a different time.” She waved a dismissive hand. “People didn’t talk about things like that back then. We definitely didn’t have fancy words for it.” She smiled to herself. “She had the sweetest ass.”
Mayte put a hand over her eyes. “Oh my god. I’m friends with her on Facebook,” she whispered. “We play Words With Friends.”
“That’s pretty good considering Viveka didn’t speak any English when she got here.” Mama winked. “The man she married is a bore. Such a waste of an adventurous girl.”
For a few minutes the only sound was of Fidel tapping his fork on the remainder of his mashed potatoes. Well, their mother’s oversharing answered a lot of questions about why Rodrigo and his siblings were the way there were.
Mayte cleared her throat, drawing him out of his musings. “So what’s this about poly?”
Nothing he could say now would be shocking, he supposed. He would have waited a few weeks before saying anything if Fidel hadn’t been such a fucking gossip, but it was as good a time as any.
“Well, Severin and his fiancée want me to join their relationship. I’m sort of living with them.”
“Really?” Fidel asked, his tone incredulous. For years his brother had been saying he thought Severin was asexual. It had been Fi’s main argument for Rodrigo to give up and move on. When Severin had started dating Minnow, Fidel had been skeptical about it lasting.
“Yes. It’s still hard to believe.”
“So?” Mama prompted. “Do you think he actually likes you too?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s the girl like?” his mother asked. “Nice? Young? Pretty? Smart?”