Page 6 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

“Well, that’s super helpful,” I say, frowning.

Sonny gestures towards my phone and asks, “Everything ok there?”

“Oh yeah,” I say casually. “They’re thrilled. I just haven’t been home for a while. I’m sure I have a monster guilt trip headed my way. But considering the alternative…” I gesture to the madness around us. “I’ll count myself lucky.”

“I’ll say,” he turns back at his phone, frowning as he scrolls.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure something out,” he says unconvincingly. “I’ll find some floor space if nothing else.”

I look around once more and then bite my lip. “Look… you saved my life back there. Literally. And now I can repay that. My family has a big house in Kendall. Lots of rooms. They’re loud and intrusive, will probably feed you until you burst, and they’ll ask a million questions… but there’s space. And food.”

He blinks a few times like he doesn’t understand and then says, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to oversell it,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t know if you have any experience around Cuban families, but my family fits that stereotype to a T. It’s not the Ritz-Carlton, but you don’t seem to have a lot of options right now.”

A slow smile spreads across Sonny’s face. “Yeah. Okay. I’d like that.”

The warmth of his appreciation spreads through me, but then I think of something that might throw a wrench in my plans. “One more thing, and I’m sorry to ask.” I shuffle my feet slightly. “Could you not tell them all that stuff I told you about Trevor?”

“The man-child stuff, or how he ghosted you?”

“Well, any of it, actually. I know it’s not fair to ask, but…” I trail off, trying to explain without sounding like a brat. “My family always acts like I’m this bumbling loser when it comes to guys. I’m already going to have to tell them I’m only a secretary, not a writer like I dreamed I would be by now. They know I’m dating someone, but I’m not even engaged yet. I just don’t want to add ‘pathetic’ to it.” Tears start to sting again, and I look away, willing them to stop.

Sonny gently grabs my shoulder. “I think it goes without saying, but none of those things make you pathetic. But either way, I won’t say anything. I was just bashing him to make you feel better, anyway. He’s probably a great guy.” He gives me an easy nod.

I know he is trying to make me feel better. I caught his scornful look when I was telling him about Trevor on the plane. Still, it was a decent thing to offer reassurance to a stranger, especially one who looks like she is spiraling into her own storm fueled by anxiety and pastelitos, and I appreciate the effort. Although we only met today, Sonny has a calming presence, and I feel that I can count on him.

“Thanks. They’ve never met him, so I don’t want this to be their first experience.”

“I’m sure. We don’t want anyone thinking he broke up with his charming, hot girlfriend like a total loser over text, right?” I open my mouth to say something, but his comment catches me off guard.

Is he joking? Is he going to tell them? Did he call me hot?

“Don’t worry,” he adds with a grin. “That was the last one. I’ll be good.”

SONNY

If I am being honest, I don’t want to be good. I want to talk to her family, get them all on my side, and wake Cai up to the fact that this relationship she’s chasing is a lousy one.

Still, if there is anyone who understands family pressure, it’s me. Growing up, my family treated playing video games as the worst thing one could do with their time, next to embezzling from the church. I haven’t told Cai my real profession, partly because of the association with her boyfriend, but also because of the deep-seated resentment my family has toward the type of person who plays video games. So I’ll keep quiet. Not just because she asked me, but because I know that family dynamics can carry more weight than we realize from the outside.

I try to pay attention as she goes through the pseudo-rules for dealing with her family, making a mental list:

They’ll assume we were a couple, even though we’ll tell them we aren’t.

No question will be off limits. Cai points out that passing the threshold into a Cuban home is akin to accepting that there is no boundary they can’t cross or subject too taboo to be brought up.

I have to get seconds at dinner, no matter how big my first portion is. Not getting seconds would mean declaring that I don’t like the food and that I would be treated with the same disdain they reserved for traitors and those who claim that calories from croquetas count.

Cai is delivering her rules as we walk side by side to the baggage claim. By the time we arrive, I have to wipe tears from my eyes from laughing at her comedy routine.

The thing is that although the humor is on par with stand-up comedy, nothing about her seems performative or rehearsed. She’s just a quirky woman, making observations and giving genuine opinions.

The last few women I’ve dated were clearly only interested in my money. One even asked specifically what I make when we were out to dinner! I’ve started becoming very skeptical of the attention I get from women. I get approached at conventions or some event, and it all feels so fake. Everything I say is so cool. Every favorite I have happens to be theirs as well. Nothing feels real these days.

In lieu of that, Cai feels like primo authenticity. It has me wondering what I can do to show her how I can be different. How have I gotten so lucky to be stranded with someone I find not just beautiful but also with a genuine personality and a sense of humor that rivals my own? Sure, she is a bit self-deprecating and is mixed up in the boyfriend department, but I can change that. She’s a beautiful disaster in a hoodie, and I’m already all-in.