“IneedyoutosendmeRK10s,sizenineandahalf”—the fact he’d paid attention to the shoe size on the box didn’t escape me—“inmen’s…. What’s your address?” He turned his attention down to me, and I rattled off my parents’ home address. Kulti repeated it to the person on the other end of the line. “Iwantthemtheretomorrow...andasampleofthepairyousentmelastweek…yes,those.”He hung up, just like that. He just called, said what he wanted, and hung up. No thanks, no goodbye, nada.
After he finished putting his phone back into his pocket, he looked down at me and frowned. “What?”
“People don’t get aggravated with you when you’re rude to them?”
Kulti blinked. “No.”
“Never?”
He lifted a shoulder in the most perfect gesture of how much of a shit he didn’t give.
Good God. “If I hung up on someone like that, which I wouldn’t because it’s not nice, they would tell me to go screw myself.” I blinked at him and thought about what he said. “If you hung up onme like that, I would tell you to go screw yourself. Not that I don’t appreciate you getting the shoes for my dad, but it wouldn’t kill you to be polite, you know.”
He shrugged. He freaking shrugged, and I knew me telling him how he could handle the situation differently wasn’t going to change a single thing.
“THIS IS the worst game of Uno I have ever played in my entire life.”
Kulti looked up at me from across the table and smiled his little smug baby smile. The freaking bratwurst. “You’re being a sore loser.”
My mom and dad both nodded from their spots on either side of me. I looked at both of them and shook my head. Traitors. “I’m not being a sore loser.” Much. “They kept giving me all their crappy cards so they wouldn’t make you draw!”
“It sounds to me like you don’t know how to lose,” he said calmly, taking the cards from the middle of the table to shuffle.
I made a choking noise and turned my attention to the mute sitting next to me. Dad had said maybe six words in the last three hours. He got home and found the German and me in the driveway washing my car. Dad said exactly two words, “Oh, ah, hi,” gave me a kiss on the cheek, and hightailed it inside. We’d eaten dinner my mom made with him saying another two words, “salt” and “sí.” And the last two words he’d said were, “yellow” and “blue” when he made us change colors playing cards.
My mom on the other hand, had decided not to be fazed, and it wasn’t like I could blame her. She wasn’t particularly impressed by famous soccer players for longer than a second. Been there, done that.
“You’ve never liked to lose,” Mom noted as Kulti slid a card in her direction, which she took with a smile. “When you were little, you would make us play games over and over again until you won.”
She was right. I remembered being a competitive little kid.Whoops. “You guys are ganging up on me. I’m just saying it’d be a fair game if you two quit making me take more cards every turn.”
She smiled again when the German passed her another card. “It’s just a game.”
It was just a game.
I made sure Kulti met my eyes when I got my next round of cards. Nothing was just a game.
“DAD?” I knocked on the door an hour or two later. “Papa?”
He said something from inside that was along the lines of “come in,” so I did. Standing in the doorway between his bedroom and en suite, Dad had a toothbrush in his mouth, already dressed for bed.
“I just wanted to tell you good night.” I smiled at him.
He held up a finger and went back into the restroom where I could hear him turn the water on and rinse out his mouth before coming back. “Buenasnoches. I had fun tonight.”
“You did?”
My dad nodded seriously, sitting on the bed next to me. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me to not tell anyone that he’s staying at my house?Myhouse, Salsa!” Dad erupted, seriously. This was more like him. “The King is sleeping in my house, he mowedmylawn, and he’s friends withmydaughter.” He put a hand to his chest and took a big, walloping breath. “This is the best present anyone has ever given me.” He paused. “Don’t tell your mom.”
And he was completely, 199 percent serious.
I didn’t bring up how he hardly talked, but I did grin at him. I was happy that at least he was acting normal in front of me and eating up just having Kulti in the house. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel weird.”
“Am I sure?Puessí.” He wrapped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side. “I’m going to remember this for the rest of my life.”
I laughed and leaned into him. Only he would be happy just having Kulti in the house even though he didn’t talk to him. “Thankyou for not telling everyone.” My parents had decided not to have my extended family come over with the German staying, and honestly, I was a little relieved.
“You think he’ll take a picture with me before he leaves so I can send it to yourtíos?”
