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I shrug. “It beats being at home alone. Maybe doing some good once in a while will help me feel better about myself.”
“Come. I’ll make you a nightcap.”
She leads me to my kitchen, and I sit on the stool and memories of the past flood through my eyes.
“Hot chocolate and marshmallows. I remember you doing it for us as a kid. It was the only time us three brothers got along.”
She waves her finger at me, as if to correct me.
“It wasn’t the only times, it’s just the times you remember. The three of you used to be like best friends, protecting each other, looking out especially for you, the youngest. Jorge used to be the most protective. He took on the role as a big brother well.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s just that things changed as you got older and no more did he take on the role.”
“He became his father’s puppet.”
She nods her head, and then takes out the milk from the fridge and bars of chocolate. That was the thing about Abuela’s hot chocolate, she never used powder as she gets out the nutmeg and sprinkles a little on the milk boiling in the pot.
“Perfecto!”
The smell envelops the kitchen and all I can do is smile as I think about the taste once she has completed it.
“I should have brought cookies with me. You always loved it when you drank it with cookies.”
I did like her homemade cookies. Somehow Abuela always manages to calm the beast inside of me. She does as she pours the hot chocolate into the mug, and then sprinkles some cinnamon on top of it.
“This is what you need. Not whatever poison you were pouring into your mouth earlier.”
“You’re right. You’re always right and I am wrong.”
She shakes her head, and then uses one hand to cup my face and stares me dead in the eye. It’s as if she’s reaching out to me, not only my mind, but my soul too.
“Not every time an elder is right, but we do know what is best at times. Except for your father. Maybe one day he’ll stop torturingtu madrestra2 and set her free.”
I don’t pry anymore, because I can’t even deal with my own problems let alone worry about whatever torture he’s putting my stepmother through at the moment.
“This house is too lonely for you. Moving into Lucas’s apartment and helping him out will do you the world of good.”
Did I say that I would move in?
No, I didn’t, but as she raises an eyebrow, I can tell she’s not putting words in my head, but an idea.
“I’m not sure about Lucas,” I say as I blow on my hot chocolate.
“You’re both as bad as each other. He’s killing himself to save everyone and you’re killing yourself to make more money.”
“More money makes sense,” I say as I can finally take a sip of my hot drink, I’ve been watching her make it impatiently.
“It only makes sense to you.”
I disagree with her observation. “No. People do not appreciate what you do for them. They always want more.”
“What have you done for anyone to make this observation? The only time you’ve done any charity work is with your brother and I know they appreciate him for his hard work and compassion.”
She’s right about that, I’ve never seen anyone disagree or even put Lucas down about his heart. Maybe that’s where we differ. I don’t need anyone to validate my good work, but then she’s right, it’s only good work for myself.
“Abuela, tell me why you need to go to Madrid.” I change the subject, there’s too much focus on me at the moment. I don’tlike it. Lucas does it, because he has always been the kind one out of the three of us. He has been the one who will help an injured animal, which is why I assumed he would be a vet when he grew older. One thing is for sure, he has never expressed an interest to help the business grow or earn more money, which is why he lives in a two-bedroom apartment in the wrong side of Manhattan.
