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I scanned the yard. Victoria and Santiago were sitting under the big tree where they were married, sharing a small metal bench that my mom usually had there. She had placed a rustic coffee table in front of the seats, and they both had their feet propped up on it, Santiago’s crossed at the ankles. They both looked so relaxed, and Victoria was beaming, looking at my brother.
I wasn’t jealous of them. I actually loved how they had grown together since they decided to give their relationship a go, but it was so different than what I was doing. For manymoments in our lives, it seemed like Santiago and I had walked in tandem, approaching our adult lives in similar ways. But now it seemed like he had taken a side road, and I was stuck in this small town, in my parents’ house, being treated like a teenager all over again.
I’d moved to Buenos Aires for med school and had all the intentions of becoming a pediatrician and then following that up with a fellowship and specialization in pediatric oncology. It was a coveted program, a single spot at that hospital. I was on my way there, and it was going well. And then the Francisco train hit me hard in the middle of the chest when I least expected it. And between Jazmín’s death and what happened after, I was lost. Drowning.
Jacinto came running out of the house, holding firecrackers and sparklers in his arms, cradling them like they were his newborn kittens. Martina followed behind, a glimmer in her eyes as she turned the corner towards the street. That had been our signal for years—someone walked out of the house with our small kit of fireworks, if they could be called that, and then we all huddled towards the back of the property so we could watch the show from behind the big structure.
It was our own way of welcoming the new year.
My parents sat with my grandparents by the pool, enjoying their drinks and a few desserts. The men were having a conversation, and my mother was looking around the lot, smiling at the scene in front of her. Charlie was scowling in a corner, sipping something from a low glass,sitting with Victoria’s brother and sister-in-law, who was holding a sleeping toddler in her arms.
And Victoria and Santiago were cuddled under their tree, his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. Her head was lying on his chest, and her lids were closed while Santiago spoke into the top of her head, kissing her hair every few words.
Ugh.
Francisco was sitting on his own, still looking at the discarded Monopoly board, toying with the car piece between his thumb and index finger. His gaze was far away, probably in the same place where my thoughts were. Back to her.
It had been a few grueling days. Since the wedding, since the day of that anniversary, I hardly had time to think of her.
Five, four, three, two, one.New year. New countdown.
It was a flash. A moment of darkness around us, followed immediately by sparks lighting up the sky behind the house. Jacinto’s laughter could be heard all the way from the back, giddy with excitement at the show he was putting on.
And then when I turned to go hug my parents, Francisco was standing there, frozen solid and squeezing his eyes shut. Everywhere around us, people were hugging and kissing each other, screaming with joy at the new year. The pops of fireworks were loud in the background, but instead, Francisco was standing to the side, his fists tight, his knuckles white from the intensity of hisgrip.
“Happy New Year,” I said as I got closer to him. His breath was heavy, but he snapped his eyes open to look at me, immediately searching my face for… what? “¿Estás bien?” I asked with a smile, trying to diffuse the tension a bit.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He huffed and gave me a weak smile. “It’s been a tough year.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it. Imagine living with your parents when you are in your thirties.”
I giggled, but he remained stoic, his hands still curled in fists to his side.
“You can tell me,” I whispered, hoping for anything that he would remember. The lights flickered on, and his hands relaxed. His jaw was still tense, but he moved his body, a tiny sigh of relief leaving his lips. “We are a lot. I get it.”
I smiled, and he turned to face me, his lips curling up in a polite smile.On.He tucked one of his hands in the pocket of his Bermuda shorts, then ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it a little bit. I blinked because for a split second, he looked so much like that man I’d met years before, hanging out in a hospital room, hiding from the world and laughing together.
It was a different time; moments when my life wasn’t so heavy. Before her.
“Lu,” my mom said from the door to the house, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to now. “Do you want some champagne? Francisco?”
We both turned to face her, a big smile on my face. “No, gracias, Ma.”
“How’s your cat?” he asked, his eyebrows rising in question. “I heard you were getting one?”
“Oh.” I snort-laughed. “Jacinto practically bullied me into adopting one of the cats he found last week.”
He scrunched his nose. “Not a cat person.”
“Everyone is a cat person,” I said with a scowl. “You just don’t know that yet.”
He laughed, and I couldn’t help but follow him because that was who he was. A lighthearted man who enjoyed my company, and we laughed at the silliest of things.
“Does it have a name?”
“Not yet. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Hmm,” he added, running his fingers through his hair again absentmindedly. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning anymore. So I would consider that a win. He turned again, walking towards the table where we had sat all night and tucking his long legs under it. He scanned the top, then started collecting all the discarded pieces of the board game, meticulously piling the cards and grouping everything together. It was almost like they were practiced movements—muscle memory from the many nights he’d done it with his sister in the hospital.
