“He could’ve asked,Mamá. He never asks. He always takes my things.”
I listen to the conversation going back and forth. Jorge could sound petulant and childish if I didn’t know better, but it’s clearly a running joke amongst his family. He’s playing the role of the youngest brother so well I can’t help but giggle. Luciana appears utterly unimpressed by her son’s antics, but I see the twinkle in her eyes as they talk.
“Mamá, you never take my side. You always take my brothers’.”
“Gordito, all of you say that, and all of you know it’s not true.”
“Are you sure,Mamá?”
Luciana cocks an eyebrow and gives him a look that makes him appear indignant. As much as I try to stifle my laughterbehind my hands, I sound more like I’m choking than anything else.
“See how it is,Mamá? Even my girlfriend sides with you. It’s not fair.”
“Well, now you have someone else to kiss your boo-boos and make it all better,gordito.”
His eyes widen, and I’m positive he’s blushing.
“What doesgorditomean?”
“Chubby little boy. All three of my sons were born with the roundest little cheeks. I’ve always called all of them that.”
I have tears practically rolling down my cheeks as I laugh even harder. If I thought Jorge’s day sounded pretty normal earlier, this is like Twilight Zone normal. What alternate reality have I stepped into where a Cartel narco-trafficker is being teased by his mother? And where said narco-trafficker is complaining to his mother about his older brother stealing his toys—or vegetables in this case?
Jorge wraps his arm around me and mutters to me, but I’m certain Luciana hears him. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Oh, I am, but I absolutely love this.”
He kisses my temple and smiles at me. I don’t think any of this was just for my benefit. I suspect the conversation would’ve happened anyway, even if I weren’t here, but it certainly puts me at ease.
“Anneliese, I don’t know whether Jorge has said this or not, but if he has to travel over the next few months, I’d very much like it if you’d come to stay with me. I’m sure you don’t know too many people here in this city, and I know how overwhelming it is to move to a new country. I did it when I went to UCLA and then again several years later withTres J’s.”
It surprises me to hear Jorge’s mom use that term for her sons. I figured it was a nickname or something people outside the family used for the brothers, perhaps in more of a derogatoryway than as an endearment. Perhaps it’s both, depending upon who’s using it.
“I’d like that very much, Luciana. Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the States for more than just a couple of days and business meetings. I’m not that familiar with New York, especially outside of Manhattan.”
None of us acknowledge my ignorance of Cartel life and what it would mean if Jorge’s away from home. I appreciate that it goes unsaid, but at the same time, the offer is there.
“You’re welcome over anytime, especially without Jorge. The boy still eats me out of house and home. His brothers aren’t any better. I swore up and down when they each left home, my kitchen would no longer be a cafeteria, but it still is.”
“Jorge mentioned all three of them have dinner with you at least once a week and stop by at least once each. That must be a massive grocery trip every week for all three of them.”
“It is, but that doesn’t stop them, and sometimes they bring Alejandro and Pablo. I can never keep enough food in the house for them. It’s only gotten worse with age. You’ve seen how big they are. They all have hollow legs.”
My face hurts from smiling so much since Luciana arrived. The conversation continues for another twenty minutes as mother and son catch up, not exactly skirting what happened to my family but not going into detail. I’m exhausted but happy as she says goodbye. Jorge shows me the main bedroom and helps me unpack as he makes space in the dresser and closet.
“Your mom is amazing.”
Jorge looks over at me as he lifts a stack of t-shirts out of one drawer and places them in another.
“She really is. I couldn’t ask for a better mom. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, and I didn’t love all of her rules. When I was a kid, she was definitely strict, but I’ve never doubted everything she’s ever done is out of love.”
“I suspect she’s very protective of you and your brothers still.”
“Absolutely.”
He pauses for a moment and assesses me. I wonder what he’s thinking because he’s definitely weighing whether he should tell me.
“Chiquita, when mypapádied,Mamámade sure the men who did it paid for their sins. She ended the threat to all of us, so those men could never hurt anyone again.Mamáalso made sure the man who hired them did too. She sent one of hishuevosin a box to his wife with a handwritten note that said, ‘If I can’t have my man, neither can you.’”
