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“I could have sworn I told you to call me Trish.”
“Um… Yes, Ma’am, you did but it’s…” I frantically search my mind for the correct words. I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of her or Ysenia’s dad but I can’t call her by her first name. She’s my elder and I respect that.
“Trish, leave the poor man alone,” Mr. Copeland comes to my defense.
“You stay out of this or you’re going to get it,” she threatens, shaking her fist at him playfully. They smile lovingly at each other.
“Yes, my love,” Mr. Copeland laughs then looks at me. He gestures at a chair. “Please, have a seat, Miguel.”
“There’s plenty of food,” Mrs. Copeland smiles.
“Thank you both,” I reply, making my way over to the chair that Mr. Copeland offered me. I sit down Mrs. Copeland stands. I watch as she grabs a plate and begins loading it with food.
“Maybe the man wanted to make his own food, Trish,” Mr. Copeland groans.
“You hush. Miguel is a special guest in our home,” she sasses.
“Special guest?” I ask. Mr. Copeland gives his wife the now-look-what-you-did look. Mrs. Copeland shrugs.
“Ysenia isn’t here so I can say whatever I want,” she replies then sets a plate of food down in front of me.
“Thank you, Ma’a–” I begin.
“You finish that sentence and I’m going to put you to work, Miguel. Bad enough you are calling me Mrs. Copeland as though I’m my mother,” she huffs.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t–”
“Relax, Miguel. She is just giving you a hard time,” Mr. Copeland says. “But it is okay if you relax. I mean, after all, not much about you we haven’t seen. I feel like we practically know you already.”
The tone in his voice and the knowing look makes me want to slide out of my chair and hide under the table. What the hell did I do last night?
“Javier, stop embarrassing the poor boy. He can’t help it if he can’t handle his alcohol!” Mrs. Copeland replies, defending me. Or at least attempting to defend me because honestly, I could have gone without that defense.
“I’m going to probably regret this but…” I take a deep breath and open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I don’t have the words to even ask my question. Probably because I’m scared shitless to find out how big of a fool I made out of myself.
“There’s no need to fret, Miguel,” Mrs. Copeland pats me on the back and then makes her way back over to her seat. She sits down and smiles. “You refused to leave your mom’s house but insisted that Ysenia help you escape because you refused to stay there. Ysenia wouldn’t step foot inside so she called the one man she can always count on.”
Mrs. Copeland smiles brightly and I look at Mr. Copeland. He nods his head casually.
“You drove there and got me?” I ask softly.
“Ysenia was torn about what to do and I was already up so it wasn’t a big deal,” he replies coolie then takes a bite of his eggs as though it was no big deal. The man is a true badass.
“I apologize for my behavior. I’m not sure what happened but I am truly sorry that you had to come help.” It is very humbling to apologize to Ysenia’s dad.
“No worries. I was young once,” he smiles.
“Hundreds of years ago,” Mrs. Copeland teases, earning her a frown from her husband. I can’t help but laugh.
“Your very own antique, my love,” he replies laughing.
“My favorite antique,” she says, making him smile.
“Okay. Okay. Enough of that. Miguel is trying to eat,” he jokes.
I look around the room for any sign of Ysenia. There aren’t any extra plates or glasses.
“She went to Dallas early this morning for work,” Mrs. Copeland whispers. “She didn’t want to wake you since you didn’t go to bed until very late.”
