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Coming back won’t be the same because it won’t be my home. It’ll be Esteban’s.
I lower my wool hat to cover my ears, and pull the hood of my down coat over my head to shield my face from the biting wind.
“Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
Singing the Christmas song off key, I make my way to my sister’s house. As I pass decorated houses, I can’t help my smile.
It’s looking like Christmas in the Bronx.
A year ago, when Brad skipped town, three weeks before Christmas, I thought my world had ended. I spent that Christmas crying my eyes out. This Christmas, there isn’t a gray cloud in the sky, looming over my head.
Look at me now.
When I reach Ciara’s house, the door flies open and she steps outside.
She isn’t even wearing a coat.
Talk about eager.
I climb the stairs.
When I reach the top step, she takes me into a bear hug, swaying us both side to side like a pendulum.
“I can’t breathe,” I say.
“You’re here, sis.”
Is she choking up?
That doesn’t even make any sense.
I pull away from her and frown. “It’s just dinner and us catching up since the three of you just came back from business trips.”
She leans into me, and whispers in my ear, “It’s so much more than that, Sof.”
“Did you fall in Mom’s coquito?” It’s the Puerto Rican twist on the old-fashion eggnog. The original American drink is no bueno for the Herreras. “If so, she made it extra strong this time around.”
“No, silly, sis. Mom doesn’t make coquito before Christmas Eve morning. You know that.”
“What’s up with the weirdness, then?”
“I’m just…” she shrugs, “really happy for you.”
Huh? “Okay, we’re going inside,” I say with a grand hand gesture. “I need whatever booze you’ve been ingesting.”
“Come in! It’s going to be an unforgettable night!”
How many drinks has she had?
Ignoring my sister’s strange behavior, I enter her home. In the foyer, I remove my coat and woolly items, toe off my boots, and step into my house slippers. Ciara has a pair for each family member.
“All right, I’m ready for the booze!” I say, rubbing my hands together. “Lead the way!”
I follow Ciara into the living room. Since she’s much taller than me, her body obstructs my view.
“The girl of the hour has arrived!” I hear Dad say.
The girl of the hour?
