At home, I’m not surprised to find Mami in the kitchen talking to Papi on the phone because she sent me for a calling card yesterday. But I am surprised she’s smiling and twirling the phone cord with her finger. She looks happy and distracted; she’s not even dressed for church. I’m hoping she’ll forget altogether, but she glances at the clock, says, “Coño,” and passes Victor the phone before hurrying upstairs. Victor lowers his voice when he goes on about his newest video game. I steal the phone from him.
Papi tells me Mami’s going to visit this summer. She’s been saving money for tickets and didn’t say anything to either of us. The revelation makes me feel warm. I can’t wait for my parents to be together again. They deserve it.
“I know you’re going to be an adult soon, but I hope you’ll come so I can hug you while you’re still my baby.”
I start crying so hard. The culmination of years without him—and mostly the past few months—while I’ve grown, while I’ve struggled, swells in my spirit. I wish he was here to hug me right now. I want to feel his love before the ritual.
Papi sounds confused at first, but then begins crying too.
“I’ll always be your baby, Papi. I can’t wait to see you.”