“Hola, perrito,” she says, stooping to let me slobber kisses all over her. “I missed you.”
“Miriam,” Miguel sputters. “¿Qué haces aquí?”
“Happy to see you, too!” She stands and holds out her arms. “Ahora, ven aquí.”
His eyes are wet when he finally leaves her embrace. He rubs them quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to visit?”
“Tell you? You’d have to pick up the phone for me to do that,” she says, reaching up to wipe off the smear of lipstick she’s left on his cheek. “Besides, I knew you’d say you were fine and not to bother, just like always. So, I did what any good overbearing sister would do and got on a plane. I should’ve done it six months ago, but you know how work keeps me chained to my desk.” Miriam went to school for way longer than most people do and now she has an important job at Puerto Rico’s biggest university, helping students…well, I don’t actually know what she helps them with, but Amelia said she was excellent at it. “Lo siento,” she adds.
“Are you apologizing for surprising me, or for breaking a world record for number of suitcases you got on a single flight?” he asks, reaching for one of the many bags on the stoop behind Miriam. “It looks like you’re moving in.”
“Watch it or I’ll take you up on that.”
He pushes his lips together in a thin line, but I can smell that he’s as thrilled as I am that she’s here.
Miriam hauls in a few bags, too, then kicks her shoes off beside the door and bends to scratch my ears. “Is it just me, or is Harold getting old?” she says, looking up at Miguel.
Is it just me, or does someone need to save the commentary for when I’m not around?
“He’s beenun poco locolately,” says Miguel, frowning at me. “I want to say it’s age, but I feel like there’s something else going on.”
I glare at him.You mean your ongoing protest against pants and your subsisting on cereal?To be fair, that’s been on the decline since Fiona showed up. Still.
“I don’t know if he’ll ever really recover from…tú sabes,” he says softly.
Oh. That.
The truth is, I don’twantto recover from losing Amelia. But I’m not sure I should feel that way when I’m supposed to be helping him recover from the same thing.
“I bet he’s lonely,” says Miriam.
“Lonely! I talk to this dog all day long.”
“At least you’re talking tosomeone.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and take your fourteen suitcases up to the guest room. By the way, we’re puppy-sitting, so don’t be surprised by theperritoin the living room. Though he’s knocked out from his vaccines, so we may not hear from him for a bit.”
She looks at him questioningly.
“I’ll explain after I take your bags up.” He disappears for a little longer than necessary, but eventually he joins us in the kitchen.
“¡Por fin!” Miriam’s propped on one of the stools at the small counter between the kitchen and the dining room. She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a bright yellow orb. “I brought you something.”
“¡Una guayaba!” he exclaims as she passes it to him. “¿De dónde?”
“My backyard,claro.You can’t get them that fresh at the grocery store.”
He looks up in amazement. “But how’d you sneak it past the goons at the airport? Last I heard, they were still screening for anything with seeds.”
She grins. “I have ways.”
He holds it up to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply. “Smells like home. Thank you.”
“De nada.It should be ready to eat in the next day or two.Remember when you used to make those little guava cakes Amelia and I both loved? With the powdered sugar on them?” She breathes in like they’re on the counter in front of her. “Too bad I couldn’t bring a suitcase full ofguayaba,because those are the best.”
Miguel hesitates. “I made them the other day. Though I had to substitute quince paste.”
“You did not!” She examines him carefully. “Forwho?”
