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My mind travels back to a particular fight he won while our parents were out of town. The match was with none other than Fernando. Vin beat him, of course, but he did take a few hits to the jaw. I had suggested he grow his facial hair out and tell our dad he had wisdom teeth coming in, but the minute our mother saw her son with a beard, she lost her shit. She totally flew off the handle, screaming the name José and a string of fast, unintelligible Spanish curses while my dad screamed at us to get out of the bedroom.
Shit, he didn’t have to tell us twice. We left faster than we ever had before, taking Vicente’s car to a little waffle house that was open for service day and night. It was a difficult moment to watch our mother have a mental breakdown, but neither of us could even begin to speak about it. Since that night, sitting with a plate of untouched waffles between us, we’ve never spoken about it.
By the time we felt it was safe enough to go home, we headed back with our hearts in our throats, thankful when Victor told us she was asleep and to never speak of it again.
Not a challenge for us.
We never brought it up again. But when Vicente was ordered to shave, my dad saw the bruising and swelling. We’re just lucky my mom’s crazy—and unexplained—episode took up most of Victor’s attention.
Vicente hands me his phone as he starts the car and navigates through the parking lot before hitting the gas on the asphalt. For a moment, I revel in the feel of the car pressing me into the seat, before reading the text.
I scoff at Fernando’s brave message.
Fernando:If you’re not the little bitch I think you are, you’ll face me in the ring tonight. Winner gets Lydia.
Vicente:Lydia is like my sister, you dumb fuck. When I’m done with you, you’ll be eating through a straw.
“Oh, I’m definitely going to be there for this,” I tell him with a laugh. “He’s going to look like a fucking fool.”
Vicente chuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “He already looks like a fool. I’m just gonna make sure he’s a busted up fool.”
Another text from the bastard shows up before I give the phone back.
Fernando:Forget Lydia then. I win, I fuck your sister.
I delete the text and drop the phone into the center console before turning up the music and sitting back. If my brother doesn’t win this fight, I’m going to kill the motherfucker myself.
* * *
After stuffing myself to the brim with my food, the scent of my leftover sushi turns my stomach. God, I just want to leave already and by the look on Vicente’s face, I can tell he wants to dip as well.
I look at my phone for the hundredth time tonight, hoping for the minutes to pass by faster so we can leave, but it seems time has taken on the speed of molasses.
“In a hurry?” my mom asks me softly.
Alma is probably one of the most docile, obedient wives I’ve ever met. She doesn’t have a defiant bone in her body, and it drives me absolutely insane. She’s always been ayes sir, no sirkind of woman and it’s even worse with my father.
He saysjump, she does. He sayscook my dinnerand she doesn’t hesitate. I don’t think I've ever heard the woman question him—she just follows everything he says as though he can do no wrong. Aside from the one time we witnessed her change into someone we didn’t know or understand, Alma is the kindest, sweetest and most soft-hearted person you’ll ever meet.
Vicente makes a face at me from behind her, telling me with his eyes that I need to make something up so we can leave.
“No,ama,” I say as I rub my eyes. It’s not difficult to fake the tiredness in my voice. “It’s just been a long day for me and I’m ready to pass out.”
My mom places a hand on my forehead and nods. “The stress of the championships must’ve been difficult on you. I’m sorry we pushed you so hard.”
I almost roll my eyes at her. If she had her way, I highly doubt my brother and I would feel pushed at all. No, the pressures we experience belong solely to Victor.
“It’s fine.” I look down at the phone again. “But it’s really late. When are we leaving?”
My father, who has been on his phone for most of the dinner talking with his clients and assistants, remains silent.
As if he feels my eyes on him, Victor looks up and smiles. “I’m sorry,hija. Business is never done, huh?”
He trades his phone for the wine glass, lifting it up in a toast. We all follow him, lifting our glasses in the air while we wait for him to give his speech.
“To achievements being met and the goals within reach.¡Al legado de Guzmán!”
“El legado,” we all say in unison before taking a drink.
