JAVIER
Ant, Levy, and I wait on the runway in Wimberley as the small plane descends in the morning light and taxis into its parking spot. Erik unlatches the stairs, and Gael’s head pops up in the open doorway.
Ant throws his arms open and shouts, “Gaelcito!” as his cousin races down the stairs.
Gael isn’t super tall, maybe five-eight, but he’s at least half a foot taller than Ant, and seeing them side by side feels like a punch to my stomach. Ant and Gael were the same size as kids. Gael’s height and muscles speak to good nutrition and a loving, supportive family.
Ant, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice or mind the differences. He and Gael are locked in a hug, tears streaming down their faces. He eventually lets him go in favor of giving my sister a hug.
“You look like my mom,” he says reverently as she wraps him in soft arms and cheery smiles.
Yaya kisses his hair, answering, “People often asked if we were twins.”
Just as I’m introducing Yaya and Gael to Levy, Erik exits the plane loaded down with wrapped gifts and gift bags.
Gael grins and pulls a bent paper birthday hat from his back pocket, putting it on Ant’s head. “Like my dad said, we’ve been buying you gifts since you were a kid. This is a fraction of the stash we have waiting for you at home. Happy birthday, primo.”
Ant laughs, his hands going to his head in disbelief. “Holy shit! This completely makes up for all those birthdays I missed!”
Yaya’s brilliant smile shutters for a second as the reality of his words hits. Thankfully, she’s able to put herself back together quickly. “Exactly! First thing we’re going to do is have a quick gift opening when we get to your ranch.”
“Yay!”
Ant’s excitement manages to even put a tiny smile on Erik’s disgruntled face. As he shoves the gifts into the back of the truck, a big white truck comes up from the compound and drives past the guard gate, stopping in front of us. A curvy woman with freckles and long curly hair leans out the window and waves. The guy behind the wheel has red hair and looks about as serious as Erik. They appear to be partners, though if that’s the case, the difference is stark.
“That’s Hedy. My therapist,” Ant says, running up to the truck.
She hops out, cracks a joke about his birthday hat—which he’s still wearing—and gives Ant a big hug. We all exchange greetings, and Hedy agrees to a family sit-down on Thursday. It’s imperative, of course, that we keep certain truths from them, but this is going to be a good week.
* * *
Ant’s eyesglow as everyone—including his abuelos and Tío Emil on FaceTime—sings Happy Birthday to him. On the way home, he whispered to me that he hasn’t celebrated a birthday in ten years, and it was all I could do not to cry.
After an over-the-top gift opening, Yaya and Gael put away their things, and we’ve now taken over the back porch at the Broken Oak for lunch. We’re joined by a few familiar faces, and Ant proudly introduces us to Jason and Justin, the owners of the Jennings businesses. Even the sheriff shows up to grab lunch and give Jason a quick kiss.
Yaya and Gael are a little hesitant to meet him since they didn’t exactly check in with border patrol on the way in. Patrick’s quick to put them at ease, telling them how proud he is of Ant’s work in the community.
I’m at the bar, grabbing a bucket of Pacificos, when Yaya joins me. She’s initially quiet, wrapping her arm around my waist as she lays her head on my shoulder.
“Awful things happened to him, didn’t they?”
I take the bucket from Sandy, the exceptionally short bartender, and leave her a big tip.
I face my sister, whose eyes hold so many conflicting emotions that I’m surprised she’s still smiling.
“Yes. He hasn’t shared much, but he was sold several times. When Charlie and Erik found him, he was nineteen and made to dress up like a preteen girl.”
I know better than to soften the blow, though in trying to keep it brief, I may have inadvertently made it more brutal. Yaya’s jaw trembles, but to her credit, she keeps her composure.
“He’s so much smaller than Gael. It’s like they robbed him of an entire growth spurt.”
“That’s what they do. They underfeed them to keep them small.”
“Are we too late for him?” she asks, her voice haunted.
I look out the window over the courtyard as he and Gael are trading stories and throwing their heads back in laughter.
“Yes and no.”
