“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Madeline’s voice is soft as she speaks to me, but I hear the laughter in it.
“It truly is.” I can’t stop staring.
“It makes me wonder when Javier and I have kids whether they’ll look more like his side of the family since the Diaz genetics are so dominant.”
I consider what Madeline says, and a wave of curiosity and a sense of excitement surprise me because I’m now picturing children with Jorge. Dark hair and dark eyes are dominant genes. Since no one in his family has blonde hair or light eyes, I doubt any children we’d have would possess those recessive traits. Same thing for Madeline, whose blonde hair is a couple shades darker than mine, but not by much.
I observe the brothers together in what I’d call their natural habitat. They appear so relaxed, yet there’s something about them I can’t quite put my finger on. Madeline nudges my arm.
“Don’t be fooled by their resting bitch faces. They’re really not that bad. Even mine, who’s the prickliest one of the three of them.”
I can’t help but laugh since Madeline’s hit the nail on the head. None of them appear exactly unwelcoming or unfriendly, but none of them seem the type who’d strike up a conversation with a stranger or want a stranger to talk to them.
I recall what Jorge told me a while ago about Joaquin being shy. That surprised me considering how outgoing he was with me. But Jorge explained Joaquin was comfortable with me from the beginning since he knew I’m so important to Jorge and because Jorge trusts me. If that hadn’t been the case, Joaquin would’ve been far more reserved.
He also shared with me that Javier’s the most introverted. He’s the most suspicious of them, but that’s not what made him enjoy his solitude before he and Madeline got together. Instead, Javier simply enjoyed his own company and would spend hours assembling Lego sets. Even though they can now order them online, it’s a tradition for the brothers to go to the store together to pick up new special edition sets for Javier. Jorge shared that when they were younger and lines still formed outside stores for the special edition sets, they’d camp out together.
That story warmed my heart as I pictured three brothers hanging out and enjoying each other’s company and supporting each other’s hobbies so much. I could imagine Heidi doing that for me and me doing that for her, but neither of us was ever into anything so deeply that we’d want to.
Introductions to everyone else follows, and by the time we sit down together, I feel welcomed by everyone. Even though Madeline introduced herself first, I find myself gravitating toward Florencia. I think it’s because she and I are both newly arrived in the U.S., as well as this family. Madeline’s been so kind to both of us, making sure we feel part of the family and know where everything is.
It surprised me at first, but Jorge reminded me Madeline grew up coming to this house since her family used to be so close to Pablo’s. Madeline’s family used to alternate Sunday dinners with Luis and Margherita. Apparently, Pablo’s younger brother, Juan, used to be best friends with Madeline’s older sister, Laura.
I didn’t get all the details, but something happened between Juan and Laura that severed the bond between those two families. They’re now merely neighbors who coexist side by side. I suspect whatever Juan did to Laura led to his death. Jorge gave me no details about that, and I haven’t dared ask for them. I figure if and when I should know, I will.
At the end of dinner, the men gravitate to each other. Soon they’re in the kitchen doing the dishes. It’s nice to see a stereotype obliterated when the men wrap aprons around themselves to protect their tailored suits. I notice Enrique’s wife, Elle, is in the kitchen with them. At first, I thought it might be because this is her home too, but she’s involved in a conversation with the men. She stays in there and out of their way while the men clean up around her.
I glance over at Luciana, who’s talking to Madeline and Margherita. Catalina and Florencia are talking to me—or rather talking around me—as I stare at the kitchen. Catalina saying my name draws my attention back to her. I’m embarrassed that I was ignoring the two women.
“It’s not that the women always do all the cooking, but when we do, the men always do all the cleaning up. As moms and wives, we’ve instilled it in the men that if they can make the mess, they can clean up the mess.” Catalina’s smile is infectious, just like her sister’s.
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“Absolutely. We’ve drilled it into our sons so well that none of them have dared get housekeepers. They’re generally all very tidy, but they know none of their parents would allow such laziness that they couldn’t clean up after themselves in their own homes. Once in a while, they’ll have somebody come in if they’ve hosted a family party or if they’ve been out of town long enough for dust to accumulate. But don’t let mysobrinofool you. He should have dishpan hands and know how to scrub a toilet.”
As humorous as her tone is, I know she’s not exaggerating.
“I’ll be sure to remember that too.”
I force myself not to look back at the kitchen, but I still wonder why Elle is among the men when none of them are laughing anymore. It appears like a very serious conversation.It makes me wonder if it’s work-related or perhaps if it has something to do with me.
If it does, then why is Elle there?
Jorge made it abundantly clear women and children are meant to be kept away from Cartel dealings. I don’t necessarily feel suspicious, but my curiosity is certainly heightened. In the car on the way back to Jorge’s—or rather—our condo, he explains without me having to ask. It’s a bit unnerving how he often reads my mind.
“Liesel,TíaElle’s family history is about as complicated as mine. She knows things most people wouldn’t about Cartel life because of her upbringing.”
I wait for Jorge to say more, but he offers nothing else. It’s basically what he told me the other day. I test the water.
“Your mother and aunts also grew up in syndicate life, but they weren’t part of that conversation.”
“No, they weren’t, though I know my father often involved my mother more than he probably should’ve. He trusted no one’s opinion more thanMamá’s. I suspect the same is true forTíaMargherita andTíoLuis, andTíaCatalina andTíoMatáis.”
“So, will they explain everything to their wives when they get home?”
“Perhaps some, but not all.”
I want to ask more, even demand a full explanation now that Jorge’s opened the door to this topic. But it’s a test. Not one he’s giving me, but one I’m giving myself to accept these half-truths and half-explanations he warned me about. I have to be okay with not knowing everything. He’s explained as much as he can, and I know he could’ve said nothing or come up with a lie.
