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“No, I wasn’t!”
“It’s almost like you don’t remember what it’s like to be pregnant!” she whines as I usher them in, but she’s throwing me a teasing smile.
“Addy! Your tía Carolina and tío Hector are here.”
“One minute!” Addy yells back down at us.
“I feel like I should have you sign a waiver,” I tell Carolina as she takes a seat straight away at the dining table.
“What for?” Hector asks, helping his wife settle by taking her purse and hanging it on the back of her chair. He holds her hand for her to ease slowly into the seat. I smile, watching how tenderly he dotes on her.
“You know something always happens on Addy’s birthday. Please don’t burst at her party,” I plead.
Hector chuckles but stops when Carolina glares at him. Then she smiles creepy-sweet at me. “But how cool would it be for our daughters to have the same birthday?” she asks.
Bren comes up to us, wrapping an arm over my shoulders. “Hi,” he says to our friends. “What’ll you have to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” Carolina says.
“Me too, please,” Hector says, and when I throw him a questioning look, he shrugs. “Solidarity.”
* * *
As big asthe house is, the place could burst at the seams with people in no time. Sara shows up with her sons, Oscar and René, though their dad had to work and couldn’t join us today. Mandy and Elio show up with their son Lulu, who is the same age as Addy. Karl surprises us all by coming to a child’s party. Joe shows up with his wife and kids, and we are still waiting on Ileana to arrive with her family. Fritz is in Germany, but he sent a gift for his favorite niece.
Give me strength. This place is going to be a mess before the night’s over.
“Addy, baby, everyone’s here!”
“I’ll go get her,” Bren huffs. “I gotta change my shirt anyway.”
Within ten minutes, Bren descends the staircase with his daughter in his arms. She’s wearing a black tulle skirt, black velvet boots, and her favorite band’s black t-shirt that reads ‘Jaguaristica.’
She runs up to Mandy first and wraps her arms around her middle. “Tía Mandy!” she squeals. And like the well-mannered girl she is, she makes the rounds and gives all her guests a kiss on the cheek, conspicuously leaving Lulu for last. I bite back my smile, hoping Bren doesn’t notice how nervous she gets when she gets to Lulu. Bren’s been worried about her starting to like boys, though he’s reassured knowing it’s all still reasonably innocent at their age.
When it comes time for presents, Addy goes straight for the biggest one, which I’m pretty confident came in with Karl—the showboat.
Addy rips the card from the top of the box and reads it first. “OhmygawdOhmygawdOhmygawd,” she squeals. “It’s from Tía Lola!”
Bren groans next to me as Addy rips wrapping paper like a badger digging. When she opens the box, it’s an electric guitar. Addy looks stunned at the sight of it, and you could hear a pin drop as everyone stares at her and her present. Then she shrieks and starts jumping in place, completely losing her cool.
Bren rolls his eyes. “It breaks my heart that you’d rather play the guitar like your aunty than sing like your dad,” he admonishes.
Addy jumps like a bunny toward Bren and wraps her arms around him. “Sorry, Daddy,” she says, but she’s still smiling and jazzed about the gift.
“Give the kid a break,” Karl says. “Guitarists are the coolest.” He flashes everyone his million-dollar, toothy grin, earning him another eye roll from Bren.
Lola already called Addy this morning to wish her a happy birthday and apologize for missing the party, but she couldn’t get out of her tour date. She also promised never to schedule a concert over her birthday ever again. Addy seemed satisfied with that, despite the initial disappointment. She worships the ground Lola walks on and has already informed Bren and me that she will be inJaguaristicawhen she grows up. Because what band doesn’t need a third guitarist?
* * *
I’msurprised when it’s Carolina and Hector who close down the party. I expected the heavily pregnant lady to be the first to leave, but that’ll teach me. I’m exhausted and running on fumes when I slump back down on the couch next to her.
“You look worse than me,” Carolina says.
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
She must be more tired than she’s letting on, though, because I catch her gawking at Bren, as I have many times before. Even after all this time, she’s still a little starstruck. I can’t blame her too much, though.Industrial Novemberhas been her favorite band ever since I can remember. “Will you stop ogling my man?” I snap, and she winces.
