Everything from last night, from this morning, from this moment, clashes together and as Luca grins at me and I smile back, we both nod. We’re in this together. Whatever the hell this is.
18
Luca
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Alejandro breathes out as he watches the Sewing Circle flit around Álvaro, flabbergasting him through a mixture of Spanglish, baked goods, and bawdy jokes.
“Try the banana loaf.” Gladys pushes a dish underneath Álvaro’s chin, arching an eyebrow as she waits for him to take a square.
“Comer!” Judith hollers, ordering Álvaro to eat.
“Why do people always think that speaking louder in any language will somehow help anyone understand them? Volume and comprehension are not connected, Judith,” the third member of this eclectic group, Dorothy, explains.
She takes a seat next to Álvaro and reaches for his hand. Squeezing his fingers, she closes her eyes as her lips begin to move, silently mouthing…a prayer?
Horror and panic wash over Álvaro’s expression and his eyes cut to me.
“Tranquilo, todo está bien. No hacen daño a nadie,” I offer. Relax, you’re okay. They don’t hurt anyone.
Álvaro’s eyes widen farther.
Alejandro sighs and flashes Álvaro two fingers to signify two more minutes and he’ll remove the bustling women he arrived with, turning Álvaro’s quiet, tranquil flat with cats into a tornado.
“How’s Marlowe feeling?” I ask, noting the tight expression my best friend wears.
Ale sighs. He looks miserable as he admits, “She’s so sick. She can barely keep anything down. We were in the hospital twice for her to rehydrate. And of course, we’re happy about the baby. She’s elated. But it’s hard watching her suffer like this.”
“I bet,” I admit. “I had to google hyperemesis gravidarum. Never heard of it.”
“Me neither, tío. I thought it was just morning sickness.” He gestures toward the Sewing Circle. “They arrived to help Marlowe and I’m relieved they’re here since our schedule is about to pick up.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Champions League quarterfinals are next week.”
“Plus, the Cup game,” Ale adds.
“Right,” I say, noting how Álvaro seems to relax now that he understands the Sewing Circle really does want to feed and cheer him up. “Marlowe’s grandpa?” I question.
Ale shakes his head. “He couldn’t leave Marlowe’s dad unattended.” He lowers his voice even though no one can hear us. “Her dad’s not doing well. I think this is his final stretch and Marlowe isn’t well enough to travel…” He trails off.
“I’m sorry, Ale,” I say, meaning it. I know all too well how hard it is to watch a loved one suffer from afar and not be able to hold their hand and offer immediate comfort. It’s gut-wrenching, twisting your insides up in knots, while layering it all in a healthy dose of guilt.
“Me too,” he murmurs. “It sucks to feel so fucking helpless.”
“I know.”
He glances at me and, as if recalling the years where Mamma was sick, dips his head in understanding. “I know you do.”
We’re quiet for a long moment before Ale sighs, swears, and claps his hands together. “Alright, ladies, what do you say we leave Álvaro to rest?—”
“How much rest does he need? Movement is better at this age, Alejandro,” Dorothy interjects, scolding Ale.
“He does have a lot of cats,” Judith remarks.
Gladys nods. “Should have gotten a dog. It would have forced him to walk several times a day.”
“Do you remember my dog? The little Chihuahua?” Judith laughs.
Gladys wrinkles her nose. “That yappy one? He was terrible.”
