"My life already changed." I turn to face all four of them. "I found my pack. I built my business. I don't need Morrison money. What I need is to make sure no one else goes through what I did."
Sergio crosses the room in three strides and pulls me into his arms. "That's my girl."
Carlos grabs the spatula and points it at us. "Our girl."
"Pack." Nacho's voice is firm.
I'm still wrapped in Sergio's arms when my phone buzzes on the table. I wiggle free and grab it.
Mom: Jessica Marie, I just saw the most interesting margarita recipe on Pinterest. It has jalapeños in it.JALAPEÑOS. Who puts peppers in alcohol? Is this what the kids are doing these days?
I snort.
Me: Mom, that's been a thing for like ten years.
Mom: Well I've been in Mexico for a few weeks and I'm very behind on pepper-based cocktail trends. Your Aunt Linda tried one and said her mouth went numb. She also said it was "delightful" but I think she was already drunk.
"Everything okay?" Sergio glances at my phone.
"My mom is discovering spicy margaritas." I show him the screen. "This should be entertaining."
Another buzz.
Mom: Speaking of Mexico, did you know they have different electrical outlets here? I've been trying to charge my iPad with a hair dryer adapter for two days. No wonder it wasn't working. I thought Mexican electricity was just weaker.
Me: Mom, no. That's not how electricity works.
Mom: Well how was I supposed to know? They don't teach you these things in school. Also, I bought you a sombrero. It's very large. You'll love it.
Me: No I won’t!
Mom: It has tassels. What’s not to love?
Carlos peers over my shoulder at the texts. He makes a strangled sound that might be laughter.
"Your mom sounds happy,” he says.
“She’s discovering that other countries exist." I type back quickly. "She called me last week to ask if Mexican Coke was different than American Coke."
"Is it?" Pedro asks.
"It's made with cane sugar instead of corn syrup, so yes." I look at him. "Don't tell my mom that. She'll start a conspiracy theory."
Buzz.
It's a photo this time. Mom standing in front of a pyramid, wearing the biggest sombrero I've ever seen, giving two thumbs up. She's sunburned. Her hair is a disaster. She looks absolutely delighted.
Mom: This is me at the pyramid of the moon! I climbed 47 steps before my knees gave out. Your father would have been proud. Also disappointed I only made it 47 steps but mostly proud.
My throat gets tight at the mention of Dad.
Me: He would have carried you up the rest of the way.
Mom: He absolutely would have. Then complained about his back for three days. I miss him, sweetheart.
Me: Me too.
Mom: On a lighter note, I bought you THREE sombreros. The first one has tassels. The second one has SEQUINS. The third one is normal sized but I'm going to bedazzle it myself when I get home.
