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I find the tools right where she told me they’d be and get busy unloading the boxes of toys from the well-organized closet. Everything in her home has a place, and nothing is left lying around. She’d hate my house, which is in bad need of some of her organizational skills. I also don’t own a single Christmas decoration, except the tree my sisters insisted I needed. I spend the holidays with my parents and grandmothers, who have the market cornered on that stuff. What do I need with it?
Sofia, on the other hand, has an adorable little tree on a tabletop in a corner. It’s decorated with colored lights and ornaments made from Mateo’s art projects. Everything about her home is cozy, warm and sweet, like her.
“The pool really wore him out,” Sofia says when she returns to the living room. “Usually, I have to read The Night Before Christmas book and put out the cookies and milk for Santa, but he didn’t ask about any of that tonight.”
“I’m glad he had fun in the pool.”
“Swimming is so good for him. None of his problems bother him when he’s swimming. He’s just like a regular kid.”
I turn so I can see her. “He’s doing great, Sofia. You can see that, can’t you?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes all I can see are the things he can’t do.”
“That list is getting shorter all the time. He’s bouncing back, and soon the whole thing will be like a bad memory that happened years ago.”
She links her index fingers as if she needs to do something with her hands. “He might always have some limitations.”
“He’ll find a way to work around them.”
“I hope so.” I can see her trying to shake off her worries about her son to focus on what I’m doing with the toys. “Let me help.”
“I’ve got this if you have other things to do.”
“I can’t let you do all that!”
“I don’t mind at all. I like doing it.”
“No one likes spending Christmas Eve putting together toys, but I sure appreciate your help. Usually, it’s me doing it myself until three in the morning, and then I’m a wreck the next day.”
“Joaquín didn’t help?” I ask as casually as I can, wanting to know more about the man who’s caused her such heartache.
“God, no,” she says, laughing. “He can’t change a lightbulb without help, but he can fix anything on a car. I think it was mostly he didn’t care about helping me.”
“My dad was adamant that we all learn the basics of how to survive in this world, as he put it. If something happened to the water heater, for example, he’d march the four of us to the utility closet for a lesson on what to do.”
“That’s so smart.” She sits on the floor next to me. “He gave you invaluable life skills.”
Her appealing scent surrounds me like a cloud of sweetness. “Yes, he did, even if we had zero interest at the time. Although, I was more interested than the others. He identified a mechanical ability in me early and nurtured that as I was growing up. There’s not much I can’t fix as a result.”
“That’s an incredibly useful skill to have. Your dad is amazing. You were lucky.”
“Yes, we were, and we know it.”
“How’s your mom doing?”
The reminder of my mom’s battle with breast cancer is like a fist to the gut, the same as it’s been since I first heard of her diagnosis. “She’s doing well. Her treatment is due to end in January, and then I guess we’ll see. It’s stressful to think it could come back.”
“You have to stay positive and hope for the best.”
“I’m trying.”
“I didn’t even offer you a drink! How about some of the coquito that my neighbor made for me?”
The Spanish eggnog spiked with rum is one of my favorites. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
She jumps up from the floor and goes into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with the drinks. “It’s the rum that Mr. Muñoz gave me for Christmas—along with a huge tip. He’s so lovely.”
I take a sip of the drink, and the rum sends warmth all the way through me. “Mmm, that’s good, and yes, he is.”
