“Where are we going?” I go for curious, but I’m a little panicked as Joel pulls off onto a road that looks like it goes nowhere but up the mountain. This is where I die. Okay, that’s dramatic, but my palms are sweaty, and I think I’ve got a contact high from being enclosed with Joel like this.
“Lunch.”
“Are we going to hunt rattlesnakes and mountain lions?” I laugh awkwardly as I clutch my purse like a lifeline in my lap. Not sure about cell reception out here, but maybe I can get a text to go through. I have no idea who I’d call in my hour of need. That’s a shitty realization.
“Not today, Kitty, not today.”
When the house comes into view, a wave of relief washes over me and then it hits me. “Oh my God. Are we at your parents’ house?”
A cocky grin pulls up one side of his mouth and he settles a big hand on my leg and squeezes. I’m sure it’s meant to be reassuring, but my body tingles and clenches at the contact that’s gone before I can even properly enjoy it.
“This is the best way I know to get you your answers.”
“Couldn’t we have just called your mom and asked her? This seems like overkill. I can’t just barge into their house and interview them.”
“Relax. The whole family is over for lunch. We do it every Sunday. “Cuantos mas seamos, mejor.” He winks. “The more, the merrier.”
Since it looks like I’m not getting out of this, I take in the beautiful Spanish-style house. Joel parks under the port cochere and kills the engine. I glance out my window and down the mountain looking over Valley. “This view is incredible.”
He nods in agreement without looking and opens his door. “Ready?”
“Anything I should know? It’s been awhile since I’ve met a guy’s parents. And not usually before we’ve had our first date.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Just don’t let Dylan saw you in half.” I give him a quizzical look. “You’ll see.”
He leads me through a house which I silently catalog with amazement like I’m on an episode of MTV Cribs.
“My mom will be in the kitchen,” he says as we walk toward the sound of voices.
It’s in this moment that I realize I should probably have checked my hair and makeup, maybe had him swing by my apartment so I could put on something besides leggings and an open back t-shirt. There’s no time for any of that now, though. I’m pulled into a room and all eyes are on me before I can even think through what it is I would have worn had I known.
There are at least ten women in the room and one by one they each notice the girl next to Joel. Unfortunately, that girl is me. The room feels too quiet and too concentrated on me for two whole seconds before Joel breaks the silence.
“Hey, Ma,” he says and walks us toward a gorgeous woman standing on the other side of a huge island in the kitchen. Joel’s mom is hot. I’ve never called someone’s mom hot, but it’s the best way to describe her. Hair the exact same color as Joel’s, she’s tall and fit just like her son but in a feminine way. Her eyes are a shade lighter, and her smile holds none of the arrogance his does.
She drops the scissors she was using to cut the stems off what looks like two dozen white roses. The rest of the room has gone back to whatever it is they were doing and ignoring me – thank God.
Mother and son embrace and then Joel drops a kiss to her cheek. Her face lights up with such happiness it makes me miss my own mother.
I’m frozen watching the interaction when Joel steps back and places his hand back at my side. “Ma this is Ki – Katrina.”
“How lovely to meet you, Katrina.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Moreno. You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you, dear. Call me Isa.” She shoots her son a look that I can’t decipher.
“Katrina is working on a school project and had some questions about Mexico in the early 1900s – you know about the time you were born.”
She swats at him, but her smile stays intact. “That’s wonderful. What sort of school project?”
“Oh, I—” I wasn’t prepared to give my elevator pitch. What if they think it’s the dumbest idea ever? Will they still help me? “I wrote a screenplay based on the great, great-grandparents in the movie Coco – Hector and Imelda, and it was selected to be this year’s Spring Showcase performance.”
“You didn’t tell me that part,” Joel says, astonishment in his tone. “That’s incredible, Kitty.” He doesn’t catch the nickname that rolls off his tongue. “I love that movie.”
“You do?”
“Dylan made us all watch it many, many times,” Isa adds.
“My son did the same thing. That’s actually where I got the idea.”
My face warms and I feel the man beside me turn to stone. Sh– crap. Well, that certainly isn’t how I imagined telling Joel I had a kid. I look over at him with what I hope is an apologetic smile.
He clears his throat, but when he speaks, it’s gruff and stiff. “Katrina these are my tias, Lupita, Opal, and Bonnie, and my sisters Bree and Michelle. Those three over there are my cousins Karla, Anita, and Celeste,” he rattles them off as if there is any chance I could possibly remember all of them. Each one smiles or waves in hello.
“It’s so nice to meet all of you. Can I help with something?”
His mom looks to Joel who motions toward the back of the house. “Dad outside?”
“You know he is.” She pulls two waters from the fridge and hands them to Joel. “Make sure he doesn’t throw another putter into the mountains.”
“You good?” he asks quietly, turning so his back is to the rest of the women in the kitchen and shielding me from their gazes.
I nod, but he doesn’t budge. The look in his eyes is intense as he studies me as if he’s really seeing me for the first time. All of me. Katrina Phillips, twenty-one-year-old college student and mom.
“Go on. We’ll take good care of her.” Joel’s mom’s voice cuts through the moment.
His fingers brush mine as he takes a hesitant step toward the door. “I’ll be out back if you need anything.”
Isa calls out orders as I watch him go. “Katrina you can help me with the buñuelos as soon as I get this arrangement done.”
Lupita, the only name I remember because Joel introduced her first, steps forward and holds her hand out. “Let me finish the centerpiece. You’re cutting those roses too short for the vase. Desastre.”
Joel’s mom hands her the scissors and motions me to follow as she walks into a large pantry. “I’ve been hoping she’d take over for the last half hour. I’m afraid I’m terrible with flowers.” She hands me a pan filled with rows of tiny balls of dough and takes two others herself. “But cooking I can do. And this is an old family recipe so it’s perfect that you’re here to help.”
“Thank you for being so great about this. I hadn’t meant to intrude on your family lunch, but Joel insisted it’d be easier if I asked you directly.”
“Cuantos mas seamos, mejor,” she says repeating the same words Joel did in the car. “The more, the merrier.”
We take the trays back to the other room, and without prompting, Joel’s sisters take the trays and begin rolling out the dough into thin circles about a hand’s width wide. I can’t exactly jot this down in my notebook while I help so I mentally catalog it all. Including the way his sisters work like they’ve done it a million times, despite looking a few years younger than me. In fact, the whole kitchen works this way. There’s no bumping into each other and asking what needs to be done next. They’ve all been here in this kitchen every Sunday just like Joel said and it shows in the ease of their routine.
“How long have you known Joel?” One of the aunts whose name I can’t remember asks with a knowing glint in her eye.
“Not long.”
I hope that is a safe answer. I still don’t really know Joel. But when no one replies, I ramble on. “I mean he comes into the campus café where I work so I’ve talked to him lots of times, but I just ran into him the other night and that’s when I found out about your family. He agreed to help and here I am.”
He agreed seems like a nicer way to put it than he bartered because he wants to get in my pants. The look these ladies give me, though, I think they’re well acquainted with Joel’s motives.
“That’s very nice of him,” the talkative aunt says. I wish I could remember her name because I have a feeling she’s the one who has the dirt on every member of this family.
“Too nice of him, don’t you think Michelle?” the older of Joel’s sisters pipes in, looking to the other. Well, that’s one more name to the list. I really need a refresher on who’s who.
“I think it’s hopelessly romantic. You ran into each other and just happened to be writing a play based on Mexican culture.” Michelle looks around as if she’s waiting for everyone to agree. “And we’re a Mexican American family.”
“That hardly makes us unique,” older sister retorts.
Michelle isn’t deterred, and I want to hug her in hopes some of her idealistic views rub off on me. “But it was Joel she ran into at just the right time. I mean of all the people you run into every day it’s amazing that one of them has just the thing you’re looking for.”
I don’t argue that he’s been running into me on purpose for months now. I like her thinking better.
“In this case, I think that thing he was looking for was –”
I’m certain I blush at the words about to come out of Joel’s older sister’s mouth, but his mother, God bless her, intervenes. “Fate or not, we’re happy to have you here.” She looks from me to the sisters. “Bree, bring the buñuelos over here. Michelle, you and Katrina can sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon on.”
Michelle moves next to me with a pleased smile. “You’re really pretty. Your eyes are so cool.”
“Thank you.”
“You and my brother would have pretty babies. Do you like basketball?”
I choke on my own spit to the point everyone side eyes me in concern. I don’t think they heard Michelle because no one jumps in to tell her how crazy of a thing that is to say to a near stranger.
“Sorry,” she says when I’ve nearly gotten myself under control. “I have a bad habit of saying what I’m thinking. But it’s true, you would. You’re not married, are you? I mean I checked for a ring, so I’m thinking not.”
The first buñuelo is placed in front of us and I follow her lead and sprinkle a generous amount of the sugar and cinnamon mixture on both sides.
“No, I’m not married,” I confirm, and she rewards me with a big smile that gives away her visions of little nephews and nieces. “And I do like basketball, but your brother and I are barely even friends. He didn’t even know I had a son until today.”
She waves me off. “Joel loves kids. He–” She pauses, bites her lips and then repeats herself, “Loves kids.”
Uh-huh. Everyone loves kids when they can return them. Having a kid or dating someone with a kid is a whole different thing. Or so I believe. I’ve not dated anyone with a kid or really dated since I had Christian sooo I’m guessing at best. It feels true.
We’re moving the food outside to a covered patio before I realize I’ve completely neglected to ask any of my planned questions. Being in the Moreno household is a bit like how I imagine it would be to ride a magic carpet. It’s exhilarating and cool and so magical that you forget to do anything but be in the moment. Well, hey, that’s what it looked like for Jasmine anyway. I really need to expand my movie watching beyond cartoons.
I spot Joel crossing the yard toward me. Long legs covered in athletic pants eat up the space and it transports me to the times he walked through the door at University Hall. Except there are no barriers between us now. No café counter to hide all the truths I was afraid to say.
I like him. There I’ve admitted it. He’s sort of sweet under all that suave charm, and though I have zero expectations that he wants anything besides sex, I’m not as put off as I’d been initially. He may be a total player, but he’s been respectful and attentive and the amount of effort he’s put into getting me to go out with him shows a level of commitment I’ve never had from a guy before.
A little boy about Christian’s age barrels past me at full speed and launches himself into Joel’s arms. I watch in fascination realizing it’s exactly what I want to do. Joel carries him toward me as the boy clutches his neck and chatters happily. “Tio Joel, I learned a new trick. Wanna see it?”
“After lunch okay?” The boy looks absolutely crestfallen. “Dylan, this is my friend Katrina.”
He eyes me carefully and I give a little wave.
Joel leans in and whispers something in Dylan’s ear and he nods excitedly before reaching behind Joel’s back and pulling out a white rose seemingly from thin air. He hands it to me and I’m rightly impressed.
“For me? Thank you.”
“I’m a magicianan,” he states, butchering the word, but stating it so very matter of fact that I know better than to laugh.
“What other tricks do you know?”
A devious smile spreads across his adorable face. “I can cut you in half.”
Joel laughs. “No chopping up people today, little man. Go wash your hands before we eat.”
Joel motions toward the food. “Ready to eat?”
I follow his lead and fill my plate with everything – wanting to try it all and experience every bit of his world. Everyone sits outside and for the almost buffet style dining, it’s still intimate and homey.
The large backyard has a pool, an outdoor grill, a TV, a putting green, and a large grassy area where several soccer balls and hula hoops have been abandoned. The older family sits at an outdoor dining table and the kids opt to take their plates and sit on the grass. Joel leads us to the table. “Did you get your questions answered?”
“Oh, um…” I really mismanaged my time. “I guess I got a little wrapped up in the food prep.” I take a bit of the buñuelo. “This is amazing.”
Joel’s father appears beside Isa. I know this even before he leans down and kisses her softly on the mouth and says, “Everything looks amazing, mi reina. As always.”
Joel’s father has the presence and command that his son does, but where Joel’s charm seems deliberate his father’s is not. He’s just got an air of importance and charisma.
“You must be Katrina?” he asks when he spots me sitting next to his son.
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes crinkle with a smile that has me rethinking the differences between his son. “Call me Dax. Tell us more about this screenplay you’ve written. What’s the title?”
I answer their questions. The entire lunch conversation revolves around it and they seem truly fascinated. So much so that I forget to be nervous. They even answer some of my questions, but I’m enjoying our easy conversation too much to pry too deeply into their lives.
I learn that Isa and Opal are sisters. Isa is the youngest and they came from Mexico City to the United States as soon as Isa was eighteen because Opal had met Joe – a pecan farmer turned businessman who traveled between Mexico City and Valley for work. Opal and Joe have three kids – Lucas, Will, and Karla. Karla is the only one here today with her husband Pete and Dylan the magician is their son.
Dax has two sisters, Lupita and Bonnie. They moved here with their parents at a much earlier age. The exact reasoning is a bit fuzzy but the general consensus seemed to be more opportunities. Lupita is married to Jose and they have two kids Anita and Celeste – neither married. Bonnie is also Dax’s sister, but she’s unmarried too as far as I can tell.
“How did the two of you meet?” I ask Isa and motion between her and Dax. It’s hard to tell what the age difference is. Isa could pass for thirty, but if I’ve gotten the timeline right by the various dates they’ve thrown out, she’s around forty. I think Dax is older, maybe as much as ten years older, but the way they look at each other I don’t think anyone could call him a sugar daddy or her a gold digger.
“I met her first,” Lupita announces proudly.
Isa and Lupita share a smile that hints at years of friendship and sisterhood. “I applied for a job at the university.”
“I didn’t know you worked there too.”
“I don’t,” she says with a laugh. “I didn’t get the job, but I did meet Lupita and she found me a job with Jose’s real estate company.”
The man I can only assume is Jose raises his drink to her. “Best agent I ever had.”
“I met Dax at Jose’s thirtieth birthday party about six months later.”
Isa reaches over and places a hand on Dax’s cheek and the moment is so intimate I force my gaze elsewhere. Looking over at Joel, he watches his parents with such love and appreciation it’s hard to reconcile this side of him with the guy who has been slinging cheesy pickup lines at me for months.
“When is the play, Katrina? I’d love to come see it.” Lupita’s smile and voice are sincere.
I have the date memorized of course, but I stumble over my answer because I hadn’t anticipated that level of interest. “Oh, it’s not until April.”
“Opening night is April fourth,” Dax adds. “Isa and I attend the Spring Showcase every year.”
The youngest family member barges over to the table, face covered in cinnamon and sugar. “Can I show you my new magic trick now?” He looks up at Joel with big pleading eyes.
“Does it involve cutting or fire?” Joel asks in a serious tone.
Dylan shakes his head. “Nope. Mom says no more magic that requires anything sharp or flammable.” The last word is said in his mother’s tone and with total disregard for the meaning.
I steal a glance at Karla who gives me a, “Oh the stories I could tell” look that I try and flash right back at her.
“Tio Joel, I need your watch. I’m going to make it disappear.”
Dylan waves a wand he’s been clutching in his right hand and Joel takes off his very expensive looking watch and hands it over without protest.
Holding it in one outstretched palm, Dylan closes his fingers around it as much as he can and then waves the wand three times before opening his now empty hand.
“Where did it go?” I ask.
“On your wrist.”
I look down to discover my wrist newly adorned. The watch isn’t clasped, but it is draped on my right hand. “Oh my goodness. How did you do that?”
“Magic,” he answers simply.
Joel reaches for my wrist and thumbs my pulse just below the metal band. “Thief.”
I watch the movements of his thumb entranced with the way his touch warms my entire body.
“It’s a nice watch,” I say finally and reluctantly move to take it off, seeing the time in the process. “Oh no. No.” I stand and pull my cell out of my back pocket to verify. “I’m late. I’m so late.” I tap out a text to Victor.
Joel moves to action at the urgent tone in my voice. “Ma, we gotta run.”
I calculate the time I think it’ll take to get back to the university to get my car and then to my house. Ugh, how could I be so careless?
Hastily, but forcing as much appreciation and sincerity in my tone as possible, I say goodbye to everyone on the way out feeling genuinely regretful to be leaving this family lunch.
I’m lost in my own thoughts as we head back. I can’t help but compare Joel’s family with my own. My pregnancy put a strain on our families – mine and Victor’s. The families supported us, of course, but it hasn’t been an easy road. There’s a loss of dreams that parents face when they realize their kid has to grow up and be an adult before they should.
And then with Victor moving away so soon after Christian was born, it added to the burden our families felt. And I’m not even sad for the ways that changed me, I just want Christian to have the best. He’s such a special kid and I only wish Victor could see the way his actions impact Christian. I know he can’t miss what he’s never had, but I want him to have more. For the first time since he showed up at my door this morning, I’m wondering if I should go easier on him. I can’t change the past and if he’s showing up now for Christian, isn’t that all that really matters?
I steal a glance over at Joel who stares out into the open road lost in his own thoughts.
“Thank you for today. Your family is incredible.”
His smile is easy. “Did you get what you needed?”
I consider what I learned today. I didn’t write down a single note, but I do feel like I got the tiniest peek into their lives. “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “I got so swept up in your mom and aunts that I found myself listening more than asking any of the questions I intended.”
“Send me the questions and I can email them to my mom, or you could always come back next week. Standing invitation.”
“You guys really do that every Sunday?”
“Yep. I don’t make it every week. Practice and away games sometimes interfere, but every Sunday at noon lunch is served at the Moreno house for anyone who shows up.”
My phone beeps and I read Victor’s message telling me it’s fine that I’m going to be a few minutes late.
“Late to pick up your son?”
It’s the first time he’s mentioned the bombshell I dropped, and I don’t miss the tightness in his voice. I wonder if he’s disappointed because I have a kid or because I didn’t tell him. It’s better not to ask. The first option is soul crushing and the second is completely valid and all on me. I should have told him and avoided this whole awkward tension.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to be home in…” I check the time. “Three minutes.”
“Where do you live?”
“West side of town. Columbia and Main.”
“The West Lot apartments?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
I notice the increase in speed, but he seems to have a good command of the car so I don’t mention it.
“I like that area. I grew up a few blocks from there.”
“You did?” I’m surprised. It isn’t a bad neighborhood, but it isn’t nearly as nice as where his parents live now either.
“Yeah, we moved across town when I was in high school. My cousin Lucas lives there now. I’ll take you to your apartment and if you give me your keys, I’ll get your car back to you tonight.”
“That’s really not—”
“You need your car before tonight?”
I shake my head.
“You want to be on time or not?” He smirks.
“You’re going to get me there in three minutes?” I check my phone. “Two minutes.”
He nods. “Give or take two minutes. Anything less than five isn’t late.”
If my stomach weren’t in knots to get to my son, I’d be impressed with his cockiness even in a time like this. He breezes through the side streets toward my neighborhood with a sureness and ease that further proves his knowledge of the area.
Despite the amazing time I had today, it’s relief and happiness I feel when Joel pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment building. I open the door before he’s come to a full stop.
“Thank you so much.” I jump out of the car and then pause before shutting the door. “Today was really great. Your family is fantastic. Thank you for all of it. And for getting me home impressively fast.”
With his cocky grin imprinted on my brain, I close the door and rush to my son.