“I know,mae. I know.” His ears went hot. Two national championships in Brazil, and people were more excited about him being rookie of the year in America. All but his mother, who thought the whole trip to the US was ridiculous.
“You should have bought land here. Stayed. Raised bulls.”
He shrugged. It was because of his bull-riding that all of his younger brothers and sisters could go to school, that hismaehad a new sewing machine for her cottage industry making dresses and shirts. She missed him. He knew it. But they were all better off with him away from home. That way, no one asked why he had not settled down and started filling a wife with babies.
That was not what he wanted. In fact, Raul was pretty certain what he wanted was Joaquim. He belonged to Balta Silva, though. Joa was not for him, but they could be friends for sure.
“Raul, come help me pour thefeijoadainto bowls.”
“Sim.” He shook off his funk. This was Christmas and he was with his family and friends. He’d been pissing and moaning for months, as Coke Pharris would say, about being all alone and missing Brazil. He needed to take advantage of this time. The season would start again soon enough, and he would be back on tour where he could admire both Joa and Balta from a distance.
“Feliz Natal!” Raul’s brother Claudio hugged him. “Let’s helpmae, huh? Good to finally see you.”
Raul grinned and nodded, the smell of black beans and stewed meat so familiar it hurt. “It’s good to be home, Claudio,” Raul said, and he meant it.
