Chapter 31
Mi Casa
Holly
Mateo’s dad greets us with hugs. I haven’t talked with William besides an occasional greeting. According to Mateo, he’s the quietest one in the family, which doesn’t surprise me. He guides us to a big, blue, rusty pickup truck. Mateo loads our luggage into the truck bed before holding me steady as I climb into the cab.
It’s a tight fit with three of us sitting in the bucket seats. Being squished next to Mateo is comfortable, and the heat from his body soothes my cold shivers. It’s not actually cold, seeing as it’s August, but my anxiety makes it feel like winter.
Mateo chats with William, commenting on the end of the cherry harvest and beginning of peach season. From what I gather, the assistant manager is doing well, and they’ve gotten good prices for what they’ve sold to the local grocers.
Discontent swells within me as I listen to William and Mateo. Mateo loves this farm. I can hear it in his voice. His fondness for his family comes through as his dad jokes about something Nadia did while doing her chores. Something about mistaking a piece of equipment and ending up having to redo the whole project.
Guilt gnaws at me. I’m keeping Mateo away from his home, from his family, from what he loves doing. Acid travels up my throat as my stomach clenches with the first view of Mateo’s farmhouse. I’ve seen it before, but I notice the large white building, its high eaves and long porch on the front, as if it’s my first time seeing it. There are flowers along the front porch and a small yard wraps around the house, butting up against the dirt roads leading in different directions from the house. I can tell with one glance that this is the hub of the farm’s operation.
My stomach churns.
William parks next to the house. Mateo gets out first and holds my hand as I hop out of the cab. He matches my pace as we walk to the front door. William goes in first, and as Mateo steps in, he looks back at me, winking and squeezing my hand before stopping in the entryway.
“Mami! ¡Ya ha llegado tu hijo favorito!”
A gasp sounds from the kitchen before quick footsteps make their way toward us. “Mijo!” Mateo’s mom, Canela, exclaims as she rushes around the corner, immediately pulling Mateo into a hug. Mateo drops my hand, wraps his mom up in a big bear hug and lifts her off her feet. You would think they hadn’t seen each other in a year with the way they’re hugging each other. Canela releases him only to inspect him from head to toe. When she’s assessed that he is still eating well, she turns to me.
Her smile reminds me of Mateo’s. She walks toward me and wraps me in a hug. “Holly, you have made my son so happy. Welcome to mi casa, mija.”
I’m frozen. Duolingo has taught me enough to recognize that she just called me daughter. I haven’t had anyone call me that in years and the emotions the simple phrase brings with it are incredibly complicated and too much to decipher at the moment. I thaw out the longer Canela holds me in her warm embrace. My eyes close as I treasure each second of this hug that’s healing my bruised and broken heart. Her hug is like that of Alex’s mother-in-law, Momma T. They both hug you as if you’re special, important, and they love you with everything that they are.
This hug is planting seeds of wishes and dreams of a future family, holiday get-togethers, family traditions, and family recipes passing down through generations.
Except, this isn’t my family, and our marriage isn’t real-real.
I gently break from our embrace and step backward, only to stumble into Mateo, who moved behind me during our hug. His hands grip my waist, keeping me from falling backward.
He doesn’t let go, and his hold grounds me. Mateo’s thumb caresses my back almost subconsciously, and his tender touch brings the peace I’ve felt about our relationship back to me. His family could be my family, especially if my feelings keep flourishing at their current pace.
Canela grabs my hand, guiding me to the kitchen. “Mija, I’m so happy you made it in time for dinner. We’ll have pupusas and cheesecake, which is Will’s favorite. I’ve made Mateo’s favorites too, like arroz con leche. He told me you like snacks. I know you don’t like spicy food, but I have this jalapeño jelly you need to try. When you eat it with cream cheese and crackers, it’s…” She trails off, and instead of finding the word she’s trying to use, she does a chef’s kiss exactly how Mateo does when he talks about food.
She stops next to the counter and turns around, pulling me into another hug. “I’m so glad to have another daughter in the family."
My heart swells with a feeling I’ve only ever felt a handful of times, most often when around a member of the Watson-Rivera family: wanted.
I flutter my eyelashes as I work to control the waterworks threatening to erupt in front of my mother-in-law.
"I’ve always wanted a big family.” Her voice holds an undertone of sorrow.
My throat clenches, and I lean into her hug. I’m sure there is a story there I’ll have to discover later.
Mateo’s voice interrupts our hug as he playfully breaks apart our embrace. “Mami, I want to take Holly to my house before dinner. Estás bien?”
“Sí, mijo. You go ahead. The girls are around here somewhere. Tonight isn’t going to be formal, of course. We’ll get the chores done so we can have the big party tomorrow.”
“I’ll help out after we get settled,” Mateo says as he pulls me to the back door.
I follow him out the door and down the back patio. We walk a few steps down a dirt path before I realize something. “Why did I think you lived in the farmhouse with your family?”
Mateo laughs. “Guess I never told you I have my own house. A year ago, I decided I needed my own space. My parents gifted me an acre to build a house and fence out a yard and garden. It’s on the other side of the orchard. I love it. Having my own place gives me more privacy, and peace and quiet. It’s especially handy for when your sister goes through puberty.” He chuckles and tugs my hand closer. I wrap my free hand around his arm and we slow down.
I shudder. “Puberty is rough.” I lean my head on his shoulder as we walk, enjoying the peace and quiet of the country.
