"No!" I shouted. "I'm not going with you! I want to stay here with David!" I ran to my room, closed the door, and threw myself on the bed as tears clouded my vision. I reached out for my Superman doll and squeezed it tight.
* * *
It was midafternoon by the time I made my way to Caparica and my grandparents' house. Taking the beach train had brought back even more memories, mostly happy ones. My mom getting up early to make sandwiches for lunch, my dad carrying the heavy cool bag full, and my favorite part, running to David’s place to call him to come down to the beach with us. His mom always gave us a box with delicious cake, since sometimes she was working and couldn’t come with all of us.
I planned on visiting my grandparents and great-grandma before going to my parents' apartment to freshen up and settle myself before the big family dinner.
My parents had never sold the small apartment we lived in before going to America, so I was glad to have my space.
My grandparents had told me the dinner was going to be hosted at Café Lima, so the thought of seeing David again woke up a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my tummy.
As I approached my grandparents’ house, it was like they could feel me coming up the street. My grandmother, Violeta Gomes, came out of the house with her arms high up in the air as if she could start hugging me from thirty feet away. I hurried toward her and smiled.
"Avó Violeta. I’ve missed you so much."
"Oh, my beautiful grandson. Look at you so grown up. And don't you look so handsome," Grandma said as she gave me the tightest hug I'd had in a long time. "Come inside and say hello to your granddad and great-grandma."
Grandma must have been quite excited about me being home because she started babbling so fast it was hard to keep track of her words. Was she even breathing?
"Did you have a good flight? I hope you're not too tired. Your aunt, uncle, and a few of your cousins are coming over for dinner. They are all looking forward to seeing you again. Your friend Chico came by and dropped off your suitcases. I was so surprised to see him and his family! I cleaned your apartment, so it's all ready for you. I made up all the beds, although I suspect your old one is now too small for you, so you might want to sleep in the bigger bedroom. I've done a little shopping for some essentials, but you will come over here for your meals. You’re so skinny! Are you eating enough? Don't worry. I'll be sure to make all your favorite foods that you used to like.”
There and then I appreciated my fluency in the Portuguese language, which was mostly thanks to my mom. I allowed Grandma to go on and get it all out of her system without interrupting. After all, it had been twelve years since she’d last seen me.
As we entered the house, Grandma told me to go through to the living room where Granddad and Great-grandma were waiting while she prepared some coffee and a snack. I loved the smell of my grandparents’ house. The wood polishing wax was predominant, but there was something more that I couldn't identify. It was just what I’d grown up with, and it felt so familiar and comforting now that I was surrounded by it again.
As I followed the corridor to the living room, I could hear the chattering. "Olá,Granddad, you're looking good," I said while I walked toward my granddad for a hug.
"Olá,son, great to have you back," Grandad said, his eyes watery with emotion that reflected how mine must have looked too. I had to turn away before I was a sobbing mess, and I hadn't even greeted the matriarch of the family, Avó Deolinda, my grandma's mom.
"Vovó, you don't look a day over thirty. What are they feeding you here?" I asked.
"Ah, my boy, that's the daily tipple. A small shot of anise liqueur will keep your heart beating strong and the extremities warm." She winked. "Let me look at you," she said as she put her soft hands on either side of my face. "You look just like your father when he came to Portugal. He was a very handsome man and knew just how to get into the soft spot in my heart.
"There was no one good enough for my beautiful Sílvia. She was my baby girl, and no boy around here dared to turn their eye toward her. I told her she should wait until she met a boy who made her heartbeat so fast it was like she swam in the ocean all the way to Spain and the right boy would make her want to do it over and over again. Of course, with those shiny blue eyes and blond hair, she couldn't resist."
I looked into my great-grandmother’s eyes, and it was like she was looking through her mind's eye directly into the past rather than at me. Then just as quickly, she was back in the moment. "Of course that nose," she said, looking up at my eyes and tapping my nose. "That is all your mom's."
"And may I ask which part of me is me?" I asked.
"Ah, my son, that is for you to decide, but don't forget that whoever and wherever you are, you are also ours and this will always be your home."
I couldn't help but feel that my ninety-year-old great-grandma had the uncanny ability to read the one thing that had been plaguing my thoughts ever since I found myself without my only family in the country I'd called home for the last eighteen years.
We had coffee with home-baked bread and ham and talked for a while about the plans for the next few days before I pocketed the set of keys to the apartment and excused myself to settle in and rest before dinner.
I took my suitcase, and as I dragged it on the cobbled sidewalk toward the apartment, I considered what my great-grandma had said earlier. I felt like I was two people in one body.
Part of me was Portuguese. I knew the language well and was glad that Mom never let me slack in my practice. Portuguese was all we were allowed to speak at home since outdoors it was mostly English. Speaking Portuguese was second nature, and I was proud that to the untrained ear, I sounded very much like I’d never set foot outside the country.
Of course, being Portuguese was much more than just speaking the language and knowing the customs and traditions. I just had to figure out what it meant to me.
I also felt American, having lived in New York for most of my life and also being American on my dad's side. Apart from my holidays in Portugal and early childhood until I was eight, most of my memories and history were in New York, and I felt like I belonged there. I liked the people, the melting pot of cultures, languages, history, and not to mention the great food you could find on every corner of the city.
How could I figure out where I belonged now?
Max was my family in America, but at some point, he would find someone he would want to spend the rest of his life with, and there wouldn't be as much time for us to spend together. Not that Max seemed that he wanted to settle down. I was the one more eager to come home to someone every day.
I was tired of dating men I’d met through dating apps or in bars. It seemed as though everyone my age was just looking for a quick hookup. I got that. In such a big city where everyone focused solely on their career and success, very often relationships came second or even third. Hooking up served a purpose only, to get off and move on.
