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A little hesitant, I reached out and used a toothpick to pick up a piece of mango. As soon as I put it in my mouth, the blend of savory, sour, and sweet flavors kicked all of my taste buds. It took all I had not to moan. “Have I mentioned I love your mom?”
He chuckled. “Stop making me jealous of my mom.”
Why was it so easy to smile around him? I’d never been this girl, the one giggling and laughing and having fun with a guy. But... I liked it.
The back door opened, and we turned to see one of his younger sisters sobbing. She couldn’t have been more than ten.
My heart instantly broke for her, and Diego moved fast, getting up from his chair and going to her. “What’s wrong?”
His mom came out the door behind him. “Grandma is feeling dizzy and I need to take her to the ER, so Dad’s going to take her to dance, but I can’t do her hair.”
I could tell Mama De was frustrated and worried, even if she tried to deliver the explanation kindly. I was about to offer to help, when Diego said, “I’ve got it, Mom. You go ahead.”
“Thank you,” she said, coming to kiss her daughter and then Diego on the forehead. “Your dad has the other two getting ready upstairs.” She looked at me apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt your study session, April.”
I shook my head quickly. “Family comes first.” That, I understood completely.
“Exactly right,” she said. Then she gave a final wave and walked around to the back garage door.
Diego’s sister was still crying, and her voice broke as she said, “I really wanted the fish braid bun for today, because that’s what all the other girls are wearing, but Dad can only do the twist bun and Marisol is too busy to help me.”
Part of me wished I could go back to being that young, when a hairdo was my biggest worry, another part ached for her and the distress she was clearly feeling. Another part of me wished I was better at doing hair so I could help.
“Let’s go to your bathroom,” Diego said. “I can do the braids.”
I gave him a skeptical look he didn’t catch, but his sister just nodded, seeming to settle.
“I can go home,” I offered, not wanting to get in the way.
“Nonsense,” Diego said. “This will just take a little while. Adelita, this is April. April, Adelita.”
His sister sniffed, looking somberly my way.
I bit my lip and followed them inside. I hadn’t been in their house before, only on the patio, but it was completely stunning inside. A mix of colorful modern and cozy at the same time. I drank it all in, from the family photos to the cushy couches, hoping to get a glimpse into who Diego was.
If only I could see his room.
Was he messy? Neat? Did he paper his walls with posters, or did he keep things bare and minimal?
We reached a large bathroom on the main level, and Adelita sat on the counter, her feet in the sink basin, while Diego got out a box full of hair supplies. She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees, while he gently brushed out her hair.
From my spot in the doorway, I rested my head against the doorframe. He was so tender with her—a side of him I’d only seen for short moments at a time.
He caught me staring in the mirror and lifted his lips slightly. “When you have three sisters and busy parents, you get practice working with hair.”
“True,” Adelita quipped.
Diego used a comb to part her hair in two sections and tied one back.
“What kind of dance do you do, Adelita?” I asked.
“Mostly contemporary,” she said. “I’m on the competition team, so we have meets every week, on top of practices five days a week.”
“You must love it to do it that much,” I said.
She smiled, looking so much like her brother. “I do.”
Diego stilled his sister’s shoulders. “You wiggle too much when you talk. Sit still.”
