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“We should record her and put it on YouTube—”
“I leave half a loaf of bread on her nightstand just so—”
“There will be no ganging up on me!” she declared, rounding the corner with her colander of beans.
“Thank God your mother got a thirty pound turkey,” Grant finished as she dropped the beans in the sink and swung the faucet handle on him.
“Go ahead, say something else,” she threatened as she turned the water on, holding the nozzle dangerously close to his crotch.
“You two would make Mom and Dad proud,” I said, seeing Rose’s face burst with pride and her demeanor soften with the words. I laughed as she threw herself in his arms, kissing him repeatedly as he laughed at her outburst. I checked my messages giving them a moment alone as I stepped outside. It was another Indian summer type of day.
DEAN: Are you home?
DALLAS: Yes, you?
DEAN: Yes. We are having steak.
DALLAS: Oh no, she forgot?
DEAN: Yes, but that’s okay. She’s doing well.
DALLAS: Come on, bring her over. We have plenty.
I waited for his reply. I missed him terribly and this was the perfect excuse to see him without worrying about how he would interpret it. I still didn’t trust myself, but I was working on it.
DEAN: She doesn’t leave this house, Dallas.
DALLAS: Wouldn’t hurt to try.
DEAN: I’ll see what I can do. What time are you eating?
DALLAS: Around six.
DEAN: Okay.
DALLAS: I really want you to come.
I waited for a reply and got it several hours later when the doorbell rang. My heart soared as I opened it to find Dean gripping his mother tightly to him. She was clearly having a hard time with being there, and I instantly felt guilty.
I ushered them inside and once we got her seated with a glass of wine, I took him aside. “I don’t want her to feel this way. You didn’t have to do this.”
He leaned in to me with concern clear in his voice. “I really wanted to come. I mean, she’s here. What if it’s one of the last times she’s able to—”
Loud laughter echoed from the family room as we both stood there. His mother was hysterical as we both turned the corner to find Rose speaking fluent Spanish and waving her arms completely animated.
“What is she saying?” I asked Dean.
“She’s telling her about her favorite soap opera. Apparently, Rose watches Telemundo.”
“You are shitting me,” I gaped as Dayana tilted her head back and let out another full belly laugh at another of Rose’s antics. “Well, looks like you chose the wrong sister,” I said apologetically to Dean.
He wrapped his arms around me. “Yo nunca tuve opción.”
“Why do you do that knowing I have no idea what you’re saying?”
“Because I know it drives you crazy,”
he answered without apology. Suddenly my father jumped in, speaking Dayana’s native tongue, followed by Grant. I felt like I had just been transported into the Twilight Zone.
