“Mierda,”he hisses under his breath, staring at his lap. “Did you buy your own? When you were sixteen?”
“Not sixteen.” I shake my head. “I was seventeen.”
He blinks. “Why not sixteen?”
Alejandro is twelve years younger than me. We may have the same parents, but we didn’t have the same childhood. He doesn’t remember the years when Papi was in Mexico, waiting for his green card after he got deported as an illegal. He doesn’t remember the days when it was just Mami, Abuela, and me, the two of them working to keep the rent paid, to save for the day Papi would be allowed to come back and start a business while sending him a little money every month.
But I do.
“I couldn’t afford one until then.” I take a sip from my travel mug. I know better than to lecture Alex. He listens more when he’s asking the questions.
He turns to me with a frown. “You worked?”
I nod. “Mowed lawns and pressure washed houses for three summers.” We’re stopped at the intersection of Meaux and South College, so I don’t miss his double blink.
“You started cutting grass when you were myage?”His voice cracks onage,and he clears it forcibly, embarrassed. I hold my mouth as firm as granite, even though I’d love to crack a smile.
“Yep.”
“What kind of car did you get?”
Now I free my grin. “You don’t remember the Geo?”
“The Easter egg?!”His voice climbs at least two octaves.
Breath leaves me in a laugh. “Youdidcall it that,” I say, chuckling at the memory. “Yeah, the blue egg.”
He’s quiet until we stop at the light in front of Rouse’s Grocery. “You worked for three summers before you could buy that piece of shit?”
I aim my glare at him.Yeah,I curse, but Alex wouldn’t know it. That might make me a hypocrite, but he’s fourteen. I don’t want him to sound like somenacopunk.He can curse in front of me when he’s older.
Alex rolls his eyes. “You look just like Abuela when you make that face.”
“You’d better not be cursing like that in front of Abuela.”
“You think I’mloco?”
I eye him like the jury is still out, but he knows I’m joking, so he just snorts. “So, if I promise not to curse, can I come work for you this summer?”
I keep my focus trained on the traffic in front of me. A construction site is the worst place to park him if I don’t want him to curse. But it will be the best way for him to decide if this is the life he wants.
Papi named the business Valencia& SonsConstruction when I was Alex’s age and before my brother was even potty trained. To say Papi had hopes and dreams for us would be an understatement. And that worked for me.
But I want Alex to have choices. For him to know what to choose, he needs to know what he wants and what he doesn’t. I don’t want him to go into Construction Management at LSU just because I did.
“I think I could put you to work,” I say simply.
From the corner of my eye, I see a smile break over his face. “That’d be awesome.”
I shrug. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll be low man on the totem pole. Hauling dirt, picking up trash, sweeping sawdust...”
This doesn’t seem to faze him. “Yeah, but I’ll be making bank,” he says, rubbing his palms together.
I scoff. “You’ll be making minimum wage.”
“What?!”
His shriek makes me wince. “You heard me.”
