I shrug, uncomfortable as ever with receiving gratitude. “I love Ant like a brother, and I’m glad he’s getting some part of his life back.”
Javier swallows thickly and wipes away a tear.
I bump his shoulder with mine. “You can’t start crying now. You’ll be a mess before we even get them on the line.”
He snort-laughs, wiping another tear. “That’s the thing about the Hernández family. We’re a bunch of criers.”
“Then let’s get this weep-fest on the road.”
Reaching to adjust a runaway bit of hair over my ear, he laughs. “You know, for a guy with gauges, enough visible piercings to make me wonder what else you’ve got pierced, and this many tattoos, you’re sort of a softy. Not to mention funny.”
“The mods keep out the normal folks,” I whisper out the side of my mouth. “Plus, the humor keeps people on their toes.”
Javier nods along, biting his lip. “Thank God I’m not normal.”
Ant’s eyes track to my ears, which are probably some shade of fire-engine red. Thank God the beard is covering the worst of the blushing I’m doing right now. I ignore Ant’s raised brow and try to calm myself.
This is a serious call, Lev. You’re the one with the PhD. Act like it.
I don’t even want to imagine what the veins in my neck are doing, and I need to get a hold of myself. A little difficult, given how everything in my body is either contracting inward or flushing outward, but I’ve gotta lock my shit down.
Javier tilts his phone in my direction. It’s a text from his sister. They’re all gathered at the grandparents’ house and ready for the call. He hits the button for FaceTime, and the three of us wait, tense as the call connects.
Javier begins in Spanish, and I’m surprised by how well I’m able to follow along.
“Mom and Dad, I have a friend here. His name is Levy. He speaks and understands Spanish, but go slow for him, okay?”
“Okay, son. What is this about?”
“I have amazing news. I have found Antonio. He is alive, and he is well,” he says, his voice cracking.
There are five faces on the phone—Ant’s grandparents, his aunt and her husband, and his cousin—and all five break. Hands go to mouths, eyes redden, tears fall. Beautiful exclamations and shouting.
“Where is he? When can we see him?” his grandmother asks.
Javier looks at me, and I go ahead with my tentative Spanish.
“He is here right now. I am a therapist, and he came to live with us a while ago. He has been through a lot, but he is an amazing man. He definitely wants to talk to you, but we are asking you to not ask him to talk about his experiences at this time, okay?”
Five heads immediately nod.
“We can talk about those things later,” his grandfather says. “What we need more than anything is to see his face and to know he is okay.”
I look over at Ant, giving him a small nod. Pausing for a quick breath, he shifts next to Javier and sends them a small wave. Hands go to mouths, exclamations get louder, and the phone on their side falls over. We all laugh, and someone with a shaking hand puts the phone back on whatever was holding it in place. Soon enough, five people are leaning in, trying to get a better look at the boy they lost.
I reach out and widen my fingers on the screen so it’s just Javier and Ant in view.
“He looks like Gigi.”
“No, he looks like Gael.”
“He looks exactly as he did when he was eleven.”
Ant’s eyes drop to his hands in his lap. Comparisons to a younger version of himself are difficult. He was purposefully made to look younger than his age to satisfy the desires of the people who kept him.
It’s his aunt, Yaya, who says, “No. He looks like his own man. So handsome. How are you, Antonio?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out save for an aborted sigh. He looks over at Javier, who puts his arm around him. Everybody takes a couple of breaths, and Ant tries again.
