First Time Host
Jonah
Turns out, hosting the entire family is a lot more work than I thought. By the time people arrive, I’m not even close to having everything ready. I thought keeping it simple with steak tacos would be easy, but I’m a dumbass and forgot to buy onions. Not only that, but the cilantro I grabbed from the store turned out to be mint, and now I’m spitting out the weirdest chimichurri into the sink.
Mint doesnotgo with garlic, oil, and salt.
Unfortunately, living out here in the country means the closest grocery store is twenty -five minutes away, so that’s not happening.
Thankfully I realize my cilantro mixup before making the guac.
“What do you need?” Joaquín asks, already tying back his long, black curls. He’s the first one here and I’m eternally grateful. I don’t want anyone else to see how much I’ve messed this up. This is best-friend territory only.
He’s wearing ripped jeans and an old Agony Nectar T-shirt. If I weren’t so frazzled, I’d comment on how old and too small that thing is. He’s had it since middle school.
“I was trying to make carne asada tacos, but I have no onions. I bought mint instead of cilantro, and I don’t have time to run to the store.”
“It’s okay, amigo.” He smiles like he’s trying to calm a skittish animal and takes an inventory of all the fixings littered on the counter. “Don’t say we’re having tacos,” hesays. “We’ll just say we’re having botana.”
My mouth drops. “You’re a genius.”
Botana can be a lot of things, but I like to think of it as charcuterie. It can be a little snack or something fancy, but it’s perfect for feeding a crowd. The best thing about it: I don’t have to worry if all the flavors go together. People can serve up whatever they want from the spread.
“I’m surprised you wanted to host,” Joaquín says as we work side by side plating up each ingredient. “You have the insane ability to be the life of a party but I’ve never known you to be so...”
“So what?”
“Domestic.”
I rip open a bag or tortilla chips and dump them into a bowl. “I was reading my mom’s journal a couple days ago and it got me thinking.”
“Jonah, what have I told you about thinking?” He pauses, and I stare at him. “That’s right: don’t.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Ass.”
“I’m fuckin’ with you. What did it say?”
“She just... seemed so happy with her family. Like, even though it was messy, she was so proud of it.”
“Angie told me your mom was a wild child back in the day,” Joaquín says. “She used to hitchhike and play piano in rowdy bars. She went horseback riding in Morocco when she was nineteen.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Angie read about it.”
“That’s so cool,” I say. “See that’s what I mean. She had all these experiences, she traveled... and yet, we were the ones she wanted to spend time with. I don’t know. I guess I wanted to feel what she felt. I wanted to make an effort for the family she was so obsessed with.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with your needfor approval?”
“Probably.” I sigh. “I do want to show everyone that I can be responsible.”
“Well, I think hosting a family dinner is a good move then.”
“I just wish it wasn’t so hard. I don’t know how you do it all, dude. You have your whole life together and I... have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. I thought buying this huge place with all this property would make me feel accomplished, like I was a real adult... but I don’t feel that.”
“Not yet,” he says, nudging my shoulder with his. “And don’t stress about it. I don’t think feeling like an adult comes at any specific time or threshold. I think one day, it’s all gonna hit you at once. You’re gonna see everything you have, everything you made, the people you love happy... and you’ll know.”
“But what if I lose all my money like I’ve... y’know... done before?” I ask, my voice small and unsteady. The ten grand I blew in less than six months—spent on nothing meaningful. The sad reality is, I don’t even know what I spent it on. Probably beer and burritos.
