Of course, given what I do, I shouldn’t be shocked. Just because no one would ever want him to feel this way doesn’t mean his brain will cooperate. Hell, he just found out he has family who loves him.
I forget how often I struggle with my own self-worth, and IknowI’m loved.
Perspective.
Javier hesitates, then goes in again. “We had stalls in markets in San Luis and San Miguel, which meant tus abuelos would often work hours away from each other. It left me a lot of time to get into trouble, which I did.”
“So what you’re saying is getting in trouble is a family trait,” I joke.
Ant plucks out his T-shirt, proud of that fact, and we all crack up. Javier pulls him into a quick hug, kissing the top of his head.
“Your momma liked to get into trouble too. When she started dating your dad, my parents weren’t happy. Those Allendes liked to talk about their roots and how they could trace them back to the original Allende family in San Miguel.”
“Could they?” Ant asks, curious.
Javier shakes his head. “It was all bullshit. A cover for their shady businesses.” Guilt marks his handsome features. “I was too caught up in my own thing to know what was happening. Gigi got pregnant at the same time as Yaya, and those two were already inseparable. I’ll have your abuela scan the photograph of them touching bellies when they were both super pregnant.”
“I’d like that,” Ant says, looking wistful. “The more you talk, the more I can’t believe I bought my grandfather’s lies. I don’t know how I forgot how much the Hernández side of the family really loved me.”
“Hey now,” I say, grabbing Ant’s hand. “Remember—you were a little kid with a malleable mind in the hands of bad people.”
Ant bites the inside of his cheek, considering our words.
“Do you think Yaya would’ve adopted me after my mom died?”
Javier nods sadly. “When we found out your mother had died and you were missing, it’s the first thing your Tío Emil said, ‘We will find him, and he will grow up with Gaelcito.’”
“He’s quiet, right?” Ant asks, uncertain. “I don’t have many memories of Emil, but I think I liked him.”
“Yes, Emil is very quiet. We used to make fun of him when Yaya first brought him around. He is the son of farmers, very poor. We had to eat our words when we realized he was, and still is, a very good man. As soon as he found out Yaya was pregnant, he got down on one knee and proposed, and a month later, they were married.”
“I’m guessing my dad didn’t have the same reaction.”
Javier shakes his head. “He only came around because his family forced him to. They never liked Gigi, but their younger son died in some horrible way, and you were the fabled last of the Allende line. They were married in a hurried ceremony a week before you were born.”
“Why did my mom stay if he didn’t love her?”
“Yaya once told me Gigi never loved anyone the way she loved your dad. He wasn’t good to her. He never hit her, but he was never faithful or discreet.”
“I hate him.”
“Me too, Ant.Me. Too.”
6
JAVIER
Talking with Ant about his dad, Antonio Sr., is enough to make my blood boil. He had been, at best, ambivalent about his new wife and son. He rarely spent the night in their marital bed, never bothering to hide the fact he was seeing women on the side.
Still, Yaya kept in contact with Gigi and would visit her often so their boys could play. Yaya once told me Antonio’s father would lurk in the shadows, grumbling when the boys would play games he deemed too girly for the Allende name.
The times I saw Antonio—usually only around holidays and special occasions—I could tell my young nephew and I were cut from the same cloth, so to speak. I hid it well enough from my family and our tiny community, but that little boy had no hope of hiding anything. Even now, his punk aesthetic and leather wristbands are quietly—but distinctly—queer.
Gigi rarely visited but would sometimes send us pictures of her and Antonio. The last time she visited Mexico City, she went to an actual photography studio. She sent our mother an envelope with a larger photo and a sheet of wallet-sized pictures.
The larger photo hangs in my parents’ hallway, in a place of honor.
Ant, still brushing Cupcake, shakes his head. “The only images I remember of my father are from the pictures that Abuelita Allende had up everywhere. I don’t remember playing with him or being around him at all.”
