Junior stares out the window while his music blares and his leg shakes restlessly. He inherited my temper, my deafening silence, and my refusal to talk about feelings when I was hurt. I let him have his moment, listening to a few songs with him before I turn the volume down.
“Junior. Do you want to talk?”
I’m prepared to be honest and vulnerable with him because I hate to see him bottling everything up. When he turns to me, his eyes are welling up with tears. Tears, I can tell he’s been fighting. Tears, he was told as a young boy, he shouldn’t have. I reach out a free hand to his face.
“Why’d he lie like that, Mom?” he asks, and my brows furrow.
“Lie about what?” I ask.
“My Nino. Why’d he say that? That you two weren’t together after he spent all night dancing with you.”
“Junior, it’s more complicated than that. Wait—you’re not mad about us being together?” I ask, turning to make sure Juan Carlos is still passed out in the back seat.
“I’m not mad about that.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m mad he didn’t choose you. He just denied everything. After all those talks he had with me about being a man and owning up to things, he just denied your relationship.”
“You knew about our relationship? How?”
I thought we had been secretive. There had been a few times we deliberately had to sneak behind Junior’s back. Usually, I’d go over when Junior was at my house, or he’d sneak through my window when Junior was at his house.
“Well, first, I found your scrunchy in the house. I thoughtnah, not my mom, but then the next-door neighbor, Lalo, told me his mom saw you sneaking in through Manny’s window.”
Pinche vieja chismosa.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted you to be happy. But now he’s ruined it.” Junior shakes his head and looks out the window.
I’m glad he’s not mad about us being together, but I regret not talking to him earlier. He’s grown up so much this past year. Tonight was Dolly’s night to announce she was ready to take on womanhood, but Junior had proved to me he was becoming a man. When we get to the house, I stop him before he can make a swift exit from the car.
“Junior. I’m really proud of you, mijo. I’ve never needed a man in my life. As long as I have you, I’m happy.”
He nods, then takes off to the house. I look at the much bigger problem I have to face, sprawled out in the back seat. He begins to regurgitate, and I let out a sigh. A much bigger problem.
I wait in the kitchen for Junior to make an appearance. I could barely sleep last night, so I stayed up until three in the morning, taking pictures of the Precious Moments figurines. Then, I would research each piece before setting a price and listing them for sale on eBay.
Mom has a big collection, and some of them, like theMake Joyful Noisefigurine, are rare and have been previously sold on eBay for $650. Manny was right, and this could be something my mom could use to help with her current financial situation.
The steps creak, and I look to find Socorro herself in the kitchen.
“Mija.” She greets me before putting her water to boil for coffee.
Walking to the bathroom, she crosses the living room and stops when she notices Juan Carlos passed out on her sofa. Rotating a full circle, she stomps into the kitchen, her eyes pinned on me.
“Hay un demonio en la sala,” she announces, as if I had no idea.
“I didn’t know where to put him?” I shrug.
“Put him outside!” she shouts, and I shush her.
“Ma, that’s still Junior’s dad, and I need to talk to him.”
Socorro scoffs, walking away. She starts acting up, being as loud as she possibly can with her morning routine by slamming the doors, cursing below her breath, and my favorite of her tactics, vacuuming right next to the couch.
Juan Carlos startles and wakes up. He takes in his surroundings, my mother scowling at him, and looks over to find me in the entryway, between the kitchen and living room. His eyes are begging me to help him make sense of why he’s waking up on my mother’s sofa.
