“It’s okay,” I smile reassuringly at Ana. “I don’t mind. Thank you for having me over for dinner. It’s nice to eat with someone.”
“All your family’s in Mexico?”
I nod.
Ana’s face twists like she is angry I’m alone.
“It’s okay,” I say. “They don’t know about my treatment, or they would be here.”
“I’m sure they would like to know—” Enrique says.
“Papi!” Mandy huffs, and I have to laugh. “Sorry,” she says with an apologetic look of embarrassment.
“It’s okay, Mandy. Your parents can ask me questions.” I smile at them both. “Ana, the soup is delicious, by the way.”
Ana smiles at me and digs into her own bowl.
Thankfully, Mandy manages to steer the conversation away from me. She hogs the attention, bringing everyone up to speed on her art show.
I listen halfheartedly as I watch this family that is so close my heart constricts. Why can’t my family be like this? I would gladly give up the wealth of my upbringing if it meant we could have healthy relationships—if it meant we could be close.
So many ‘if’s’ that would mean they would be here right now because I would have told them about my illness.
But I look at Enrique as he listens to his daughter talk about her art, and I know my father could never be like that. Enrique clearly has no idea what half the things she says mean, but he listens intently and offers encouraging words. Her mother, too, throws in a comment or two of support and several of pride. They don’t understand Mandy’s ambitions, but they support her anyway. Families can actually be like this? A longing for something I will never have creeps up and lodges in my throat.
Halfway through dinner, Mandy yells at her brother once again. “Give it back—or else!” she threatens.
“No,” he sticks his tongue out at her. “You know the rules.”
I blink as I stare at the fighting siblings. Enrique bites his lip as he tries to suppress his laughter, making his black mustache wiggle.
“House rules,” he explains at seeing my confusion plain on my face. “Hold on to yourtortilla, especially when the stack is getting low,” he points with his gaze at thetortillawarmer. I lift the lid to peek inside, and sure enough, there are none left.
Ana holds on to her spoon with one hand and clutches her owntortillain the other. She takes a sip of water, but to do this, she lets go of the spoon, not thetortilla. She raises her glass toward me, showing that she is the victor of the game. I laugh.
Mandy must have kicked Mateo under the table because he drops both spoon and what’s left of thetortillaon the table as he chokes on his last slurp of the broth. Enrique doesn’t even skip a beat. He lunges forward and reaches for thetortillathat Mateo dropped on the table, snagging it just before Mandy’s hand could get to it.
“Dad! That was mine!” Mandy is frustrated now, and Enrique gives me a little salute with the piece oftortillaleft, and I lose it.
I laugh so hard and so long, they all stare at me. “I’m happy to get up and heat up more,” I say through the laughter.
“That’s not the point,” Enrique explains. “By the time whoever heats up more, they will trickle back to the table rather slowly. There are only so manytortillasyou can fit on the stovetop at a time. You wait long enough, your food gets cold.”
I nod at the simple explanation, and I can’t suppress the laughter again, but they join me this time.
“So finders keepers is the rule?”
Enrique nods.
The turn of keys at the front door turns all our attention, and we watch as Izel marches in. She drops her purse on the couch and rushes to the table.
She sits next to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek like we are old friends. “Hi, Vale,” she says, and I smile at the nickname—a sure sign she considers me her friend.
I can’t tell if the happiness of this moment has my mind in shambles, but a swell of emotion overtakes me. It is so natural to be inserted into Mandy’s life. Izel looks at me like I’m not at all out of place in this family tableau, and I almost want to cry.
I want to cry because Mom and Dad will never be like this. Because we will never be at a family dinner unless it’s an event Dad would force us to go to for publicity.
If anything, this night only cements what I already knew: I did the right thing by not telling them anything.