Page 51 of Bastard Bartender

Nic lets out a sharp laugh. “This one can be a little touchy-feely. She wants to hold me every time I see her throughout the day. As a kid, I’d see that look in her eye, and I’d run away. It became a joke between us. But I also used it to my advantage. If I wanted to go to my friends or wanted her to make me something special for dinner, I’d offer to pay her in hugs.” Nic has the cheesiest grin across his face, making me laugh.

“I always knew he was playing though. Because when I did get my arms around him, he’d hug me back.” She gives him another squeeze. “Still does. Always will.”

“Yeah, this guy has always been a mama’s boy.” Pedro sneaks an arm around Nic and grabs another cookie, shoving it in his mouth before Nic can fight him for it.

Isabel releases her son and motions with two hands toward the dining table. “Here, sit. I made albondigas. I’ll make you a bowl.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t have to stay.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s plenty, and we just finished, so it’s still warm.” She grabs a bowl, already spooning the meal into it.

Nic leans in and whispers to me, “She’ll feed you, no matter what you say, so just sit back and enjoy. Plus, it’s the best albondigas you’ll ever have.”

“Well, it will be the only albondigas I’ve ever had. It smells delicious though. What exactly is it?”

“Oh Dios mío, you’ve never had albondigas?” Isabel asks as she sets a big bowl of soup with large meatballs, potatoes, and vegetables in front of me. The scent wafts up, and my stomach instantly growls. “Here, let me warm you up some tortillas too.” She turns to grab the tortillas, starting the burner on the stove to warm them up.

Nic opens a drawer and grabs me a spoon.

I take a spoonful of the broth with a sliver of a meatball, and the flavor explodes in my mouth. There’s a distinct hint of mint that’s refreshing against the savory flavors of onion, garlic, carrots, and peas. I never knew something so simple like chicken broth and potatoes could taste so amazing.

Now, I fully understand what Nic was saying. If all of his mom’s dishes are like this, he’s a lucky guy. My mom is a great cook, and so is my dad, but they make your normal run-of-the-mill foods, like chicken cutlets and hamburgers. This soup is simple yet flavorful, unlike anything I’ve ever tried.

“So, how long are you guys in town for?” I ask after I finish my bite.

“We came for just the weekend, as he was supposed to have his—” She stops and looks to Nic, like she was just going to say something she shouldn’t.

“It’s okay, Ma. Evette knows. It’s not a big deal,” Nic says nonchalantly.

“It’s his yearly scan.”

“Yearly scan?” I ask, confused and a little concerned that he’s having health issues he hasn’t told me about.

“Nothing to worry about,” Nic says with a wave of his hand.

“Not nothing,” Pedro says. “Having childhood cancer not once, but twice is a big deal. A very big deal.”

“Not anymore,” Nic grumbles. “Nothing is wrong anymore.”

His mother’s face softens. “It was a really hard time. But we prayed hard, and the good Lord took care of him.” She glances up, saying a silent prayer before looking back at me. “He had to have surgery and go through chemotherapy, so they have to not only check to see if the cancer has come back, but we also have to worry about what they call late effects from the treatment.”

I place my spoon on the table and turn to Nic with concern. “What kind of effects?”

Isabel answers for him, “His heart, lungs, eyes, ears … you name it. Every treatment has a side effect to some body part, so he gets the full-service evaluation to make sure that anything that might come up is dealt with immediately.”

“He’s a fighter.” Pedro places his hand on Nic’s back.

“It’s really not as dramatic as my mother makes it seem. I have to get checked every year, and it was supposed to be today, but the facility where they do the scans had to cancel. It’s been seventeen years since my last chemotherapy treatment, so the longer I go without any symptoms the more in the clear I am,” Nic reassures me.

“I know, mijo. I’ll always worry. Es mi trabajo,” she responds with a sigh.

“No, your job is to make me food.” He laughs, and his mom slaps his arm. “But now you see why she texts me daily.” Nic smiles my way and the memory of his own alphabet game comes to mind.

“Ay, si,” Isabel smiles lovingly at her son. “He hates me wanting to check in with him daily so at least he obliges his mamá with a simple text.”

“Yeah, Evette here has her own alphabet game going,” Nic points at me, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise that he’d bring that up.

Quickly I change the subject. “So how long are you in town?”