“Hey!” Lo greets as soon as Sarina accepts the call. “Where are you? It’s so dark. I can’t see anything.”
Relief floods me. I’m so glad I was talked into purchasing the blackout shades for my bedroom.
“In bed.”
My heart is beating in my chest like a god damn hammer.
Lorena grabs Tino’s wrist, glancing at his watch for the time. “It’s early still. Are you getting another one of those awful migraines?”
“No. I’m just tired.”
Lorena, for whatever reason turns the phone around to face me.
I stare at the darkened phone screen. Even without being able to see her, the effect she has on me remains.
“He working you to death?” Lorena jokes, unintentionally with a double entendre.
“You can say that,” Sarina practically hums.
“Coño,” I mutter under my breath.
The flirtatiousness in Sarina’s voice seems to be lost on Lo, and she flips the phone back to face her. “Sounds like my brother. All work and no play. I hear the work will continue at your sister’s wedding?”
“Yes.” Hesitancy strains her vocal cords.
I rise from my seat, feeling dizzy as I do. It’s comical that this is drawing such a reaction from me. I mean, in this room alone, between my sister being with my best friend and my mom being with my dad’s best friend, none of us are strangers to unconventional pairings. I think what has me feeling this way is that it feels like Sarina is being ambushed. I know that’s notLorena’s intention, yet it feels unfair to put her on the spot like this.
“Sarina.” I say her name as casually as I can, ignoring how pretty she sounds as she says my name back.
My mom leans back in her chair with her arms crossed in front of her, waiting for me to continue. “I was just telling everyone that we have a meeting —well, I have a meeting— with your father that requires my attendance at your sister’s wedding due to his busy schedule.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Sarina’s response is robotic.
Much to my surprise, Lorena leaves it at that. From what the swishing of my pulse in my ears is allowing me to hear, the conversation settles into their usual talk, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“Tomás,” my mom says, getting up to collect everyone’s empty plates.
I tell her to sit down, offering to do the dishes for her. I can tell she’s tired; not only are her hands shaking but her left eye is beginning to droop —a hallmark symptom of her MG.
However, stubbornness is a hallmark of every member of my family, me included, so naturally she fights me on it, insisting she’s okay. “Did you not hear me? Why would I tell you to come with me to the kitchen so I can sit here? Go ahead.” She hands me the plates she started collecting, and I gather the rest. “I’ll be right behind you.”
I can’t help but smile walking through the saloon-style shutters attached to the kitchen’s threshold.
When I had this house built for my mom, I told her whatever upgrade or furnishing she wanted was hers. It was a goal of mine to be able to not only make enough money that I could cover my mom’s medical expenses, but that she could live debt-free in her dream home.
She insisted on having the shutters installed, saying that she liked having them for their practicality. Something about how if she didn’t feel like doing the dishes one day, she could have the mess closed off to the kitchen. But I know the real reason she wanted them. Growing up, the kitchen was the center of our home. It’s where her and my dad would cook together nightly. It’s where Lo and I took our first steps. It’s where we lived, where we celebrated, and eventually, where we grieved. Memories, good, bad, and everything in between lived and breathed in our family kitchen. So when she requested similar shutters for this house, I made sure to detach the ones from the apartment, and install them here.
“Leave the dishes there, me or Adrian will get to them later.”
I roll up my sleeves, turning the hot water on at the sink, ignoring her. “It’s all right, Ma, I’ve got it.”
She hums to herself, moving closer to me to turn off the water. “Sarina, huh?”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
I peer over my shoulder as my mom playfully taps the back of my head. “Calm down, your sister isn’t around to listen.” She stifles a laugh. “I swear you two are something else. Always at each other’s throats, yet so protective. I also don’t know what it is with you two going after each other’s friends.”
