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“Who are you wearing?” Caro asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Rachel picked out my dress. I just went with it.”
“Well, I’m going to need pics. Got it, Tín?”
Agustín shakes his head, smiling ruefully. Under the table, he takes my hand. “Yes, Caro, we will send you lots of pictures.”
“On the family thread!” Lupe calls from the other end of the table. “We all want to see Tío Tín in a tuxedo.”
She and Caro exchange wicked smiles and then Lupe translates what she said to the rest of the family. There’s a lot of talk after that in which Agustín blushes quite a bit, and I get a few significant looks, and his dad seems very pleased about something, and everyone nods along with Abuelita when she speaks, and I’m really glad I don’t understand because I just want to keep eating this delicious food, in this beautiful garden, with the man I’m falling in love with by my side, his hand in mine.
I only release it to help myself to more cochinita pibil.
40Agustín
Once lunch is finished, the Minions go back to their toys, while Caro takes Eloise aside to chat, and my mom and tía head to the kitchen to clean up.
Abuelita has retired to the family room, sitting in the big leather armchair that Abuelo used to sit in—it’s one of the very few things my family kept when we got evicted from our home.
She’s alone. This is my chance to talk to her, to get some answers at last. As I start to walk over to her, suddenly Lupe grabs my arm.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
I tug out of her grasp. “Lupe. You think I would ever do anything to hurt Abuelita? I just want to talk to her. And you can’t stop me.”
Her nostrils flare, and I can feel the sermon coming, when suddenly the twins start shrieking at each other in the garden, and I hear Caro call, “Elena, take that marker out of your nose!”
Lupe lets out a frustrated growl and rushes back to the garden. My pulse ticks up a notch as I approach Abuelita, pull up an ottoman, and sit beside her.
“It is so good to see you happy, Tinito,” Abuelita says, smiling so that her whole face creases. “Eloise is very nice.”
“She is,” I agree.
“And you are happy in New York City?”
“I am. I’m very happy.”
Abuelita nods. “Good.”
I take a deep breath. “Abuelita, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Hm,” she says, pursing her lips and folding her hands over her stomach. “About Abuelo?” Her eyes flash, but with a kindly suspicion. I don’t see any pain or anger in them.
I rub the back of my neck. Now that I’m finally able to talk to her, I don’t quite know how to start. “Yeah. I just … don’t understand.” Unexpected tears prick the corners of my eyes. “How could he do that to you?” My throat tightens. “To us?”
Abuelita lets out a heavy sigh. “Oh Tín,” she says. “Life isn’t easy. Sometimes there is no right choice.”
“But when—I mean, how long did you know? When did you find out? Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why did he …” My voice trails off as my hand clenches into a fist.
Abuelita nestles deep into the chair, one hand toying with the knot of her silk scarf, her eyes growing distant. “I found out about his second wife when we were getting evicted. I called him and begged him to come home, to be with his family. I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t yet. He knew what was happening here. He was sending us money. But we needed him. I needed him.” Her gaze turns sad. “That’s when he told me the truth. About her. About their child. He said he had been so lonely. That he hadn’t meant to betray me—but now, there were other people who relied on him too.” She glanced at me with an almost rueful expression. “No right choices, you see?”
“But we were first,” I blurt out.
“We were,” she agrees.
The silence hangs between us with unspoken words. I guess it sounds pretty childish to say that makes us more important. But doesn’t it?
“Your abuelo broke my heart clean in two that day,” Abuelita says.
