by Nina Moreno
I unwrapped a strawberry candy, popped it into my mouth, and shuffled my tarot cards. I cut the deck and set out three cards in a simple spread. I glanced at the pictures on my altar again. My hand stalled above the first card.
“Rosa!”
My bedroom door shook with Mimi’s shout. My hand drew back guiltily. “What?” I called.
“¡No me grites!” Mimi shouted back. I rolled my eyes, but shot to my feet when her shuffling steps drew closer. I ran to my door and opened it just wide enough to peer out. She stopped in front of me.
“What’s up?” I leaned against the doorframe.
“I thought you were at work.” Her hair was curled and her housedress was turquoise today. In her hand she held a hanger with my freshly ironed daisy-yellow skirt. She smelled of her favorite face powder and the homemade herbal cream she used for her arthritis.
“That’s in an hour. I was running wedding errands this morning.”
Mimi tried to lean around me, but we were both five foot nothing and I blocked her with a swift, smooth slide. She handed me the skirt, and I clutched it against my chest. We stood there for a beat, facing each other with a half-closed door between us.
“What are you doing today?” I asked in a rush. The skirt was wrinkling in my death grip.
“I’ll be in the garden,” she said and then pointed behind me. “Clean that up.”
I glanced over my shoulder. In my haste to beat Mimi to my door, I had knocked over the rest of my cards and bottle of Florida Water. The perfume smell was potent. “Oh, no, no!” I guiltily looked back at Mimi, but she was gone.
I stared at the pictures. “My bad.”
Fifteen minutes later, I stood at the threshold of Mimi’s garden room. “Mimi!” I called for the third time. The earthy scent of watered soil and sweet floral was strong today.
“¡Aquí!” she returned from somewhere near the mugwort and yarrow.
I stopped beside the mugwort. The herbal, almost-sage scent was heavy, but no Mimi.
“I’m right here,” she called, very obviously not here. I turned on my foot and followed the music of her bracelets. On the east side of her garden I found limes, an umbrella plant, and bananas, but no abuela.
“Mimi, seriously!”
She popped up on my left.
“Jesus!”
She flashed me a scowl and spritzed me with her peppermint water. “¿Qué pasó?”
“Nothing happened.” Well, lots of stuff had recently happened, but I didn’t know how to tell her about any of it, and it was killing me. I wanted to ask her about college, but after the Big Fight, I was afraid to test those waters again. I also wanted to tell her about my upcoming date but didn’t know how since it meant telling her about Alex. “I just wanted to talk to you before I left for work. What’s going on with the tent, Mimi? Everyone at the bodega thinks I know what you’re doing.”
“Tell them you don’t. That is the truth.”
“But why won’t you just tell me?”
“Because you will see.” She gathered herself and set her spray bottle down. “I want to tell you everything, mi niña, and I will. You’ll see.”
“See what?” I asked, exasperated.
“Everything.” She grabbed my face in her gentle peppermint hands and laid a soft kiss on my forehead. “I wish I could show you my home, our home, but I will try.”
“I could go to Cuba now,” I whispered and grabbed her hands. The confession was huge.
Her eyes turned sad. “And I cannot.” She brushed my hair back and looked at me like I was seven years old again and begging to never leave Port Coral. What must it have cost her to stand between Mom and me? Mimi, my home, my haven. My island. I just wanted her to understand how much I loved her. If I could reconnect us to our roots, maybe then we might grow something new in the mess we’d made.
She gave me another kiss and disappeared into her wild garden. The wind chimes played a soft song, and I wished for the words—in either of our languages—that would make all of this easier.
I tried to conjure Mom’s voice quietly promising me by moonlight that I’d find my magical seashell. It’ll take you wherever you need to go, she’d whisper against my temple, sealing the wish with a kiss before I drifted to sleep. And I still believed in that one impossible day. It reminded me so much of my eternal optimism about Cuba.
And my family.
My shift at the bodega ended at six, when Alex would meet me for our big date. In the back room, I hung my green dress in my locker, then tied on my apron and checked the daily schedule.
“You’re at the deli counter,” Ana said from behind me. She popped her gum and grinned. “Nervous?”
“Working with your dad isn’t that bad.”
“No! About your date, you weirdo.”
I tried to shush her, but Benny swept over to us with a broom and dustpan. “Too late. She already told everybody.”
Ana gave me her most wide-eyed innocent look. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Benny went to sweep my feet, but I shot him a death glare. It was an old superstition that having your feet swept meant you’d marry an old man. I went inside, and Junior came around the corner with a cart of bananas and avocados. “Hey, Rosa, excited for your big date?”
I kept walking. “I’m going to kill all of you.”
When I got behind the deli counter it was a relief to be faced with Mr. Peña’s silence.
For the entirety of my shift, everyone was on Rosa’s Got a Date watch. They hovered around the deli and outside the window, annoying Mr. Peña and ratcheting up my nerves.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said as I leaned against the wall with Ana before I clocked out.
“Rosa,” she said simply.
“I know, I know.” I kicked back at the brick wall. “I like him so much when I know I shouldn’t, so this feels like I’m tempting something.”
“Yeah, you’re tempting a sailor who dropped out of college.”
“I meant fate. I’m doing exactly what my mom did.”
“Stop worrying about your mom. You have a crush, and that’s fine. You got three days, mermaid. Go wild. You’re not changing your plans because of him; you’re enjoying the moment. Just don’t fall in love and start paying his phone bill and you’ll be fine.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, that’s where Paula tells me it always goes wrong. Speaking of, here she comes.”
Paula hurried up to us with bright eyes. She whispered, “Your date’s here.”
I jumped away from the wall and glanced around the corner. Alex was waiting just beyond the tables. He’d put on a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Blue ink cascaded over his bare forearms, and I could almost hear the waves lapping his skin. He wore a dark blue tie.
This was my date-with-the-Head-Boy-of-Ravenclaw fantasy come to life.
Alex noticed our trio and headed our way. Paula let go of a long breath.
“What’s with the tie?” Ana asked. “He looks like a nerd.”
Paula made a low noise. “He looks like a slow jam that wants to do my taxes.”
It was a familiar feeling to stand beside Paula and spot a cute guy coming over to flirt with her. Not me. Never the eternal baby sister.
Alex stopped in front of us. “Ready?” he asked me.
“Yeah, just give me one second.” I rushed into the break room with Paula on my heels. Once we were out of sight, she gaped at me and smacked my shoulder proudly. I shook my hands and squeaked. Paula whipped me around and helped me get my apron off. I grabbed my dress from my locker and changed in the bathroom.
Before I knew what was happening, Paula was in the bathroom with a bottle of perfume she sprayed down my cleavage. Then she grabbed my shoulders and said, “Scoop him up and throw some sprinkles on that. Drizzle the caramel. You get me? Doodle his name in that little journal of yours. Doodle it hard.”
“Is that a euphemism?” I asked, confused, but suddenly wanting ice
cream.
“Somehow you got this,” she said, awe in her voice. “So go get it.”
Outside, Alex was waiting for me with his hands in his pockets. He smiled as I moved past curious viejitos with their phones out. Whether they were going to call Mimi or post about us, I didn’t know, but tonight I was a mermaid, and I was going for it.
We reached the marina, but instead of heading down to the docks, he led me to the restaurant. The dining room was empty.
“Is it closed?” I asked.
“It is tonight.” There was a table set beneath the low lights. A bouquet of pink roses and red tulips sat upon it with two covered plates. I couldn’t believe the level of romance unfolding right before my eyes. He held out a chair for me. It was another postcard moment.
“Holy crap, are you kidding me right now?”
We sat down. As he went to uncover our plates, Alex nearly knocked over one of the candles, and the metal cover clattered against the plate in his rush to save the candle.
“I’m a little nervous,” he admitted with a half smile.
We both relaxed as the rich scent of garlic and butter floated over us. He set the cover aside, revealing linguini with scallops and fresh garlic bread. My stomach rumbled.
“Did you make all this?”
He ran his hand down his tie. “I baked the bread and got the scallops and thought—”
The kitchen door flew open, and light and commotion poured out.
Alex shot back to his feet. “Oh no.” He closed his eyes, pained. “I can’t believe this.”
“What’s happening?” I sprang to my feet. If this was a quick escape situation, a girl needed to be ready.
He sighed. “My family.”
“Alejandro!” Mrs. Aquino came to him with her arms wide open. “What a surprise.”
“I told you I was making dinner tonight, Mom. A private dinner.”
She abruptly shouted, “Javier!” and then smiled at me. “My husband is in the kitchen. Oh, and here come all my children. Well, they’re not all mine, but just about.”
“Everyone is here?” Alex demanded. More family entered the room. Two women—one blond, one brunette—and Carlos, who held a very pregnant woman’s hand. Two kids flew in behind them, their voices raised as they argued over a phone. Everyone was generous with their affection for Mrs. Aquino before zeroing in on me.
“This is Rosa,” Mrs. Aquino announced. “Alex’s friend.”
Everyone in the room heard the inflection. I was sure even Paula and Ana caught it back at the bodega.
“This is my daughter, Emily, and her wife, Fiona.” Mrs. Aquino introduced me to the pretty white blonde and the tall and curvy brunette. “And those two running out the back door are their kids, Kat and Ray. You met my oldest son, Carlos, and this is his wife, Sara.” Sara had short dark hair and a delicate face. Mrs. Aquino put a hand over Sara’s very pregnant belly. “And this is my next baby.”
Sara grinned and kissed her mother-in-law’s cheek. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”
Mrs. Aquino’s eyes widened. “Carlos,” she admonished.
He rolled his eyes. “She had two breakfasts, brunch, lunch, and fries in the car on the way here.” He smiled at me. “It’s nice to see you again, Rosa.” To Alex, his grin became teasing. “Hey, bro, you finally show up for family dinner.”
Alex groaned. “This isn’t family dinner. I never said this was family dinner.”
“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t for everybody?” Mrs. Aquino sounded innocent, but I knew that tone. Mimi used it often.
“She’s very pretty,” Emily commented.
“Stop talking about her like she’s not right there,” Alex said.
His sister was a taller version of their mother with warm brown skin and nearly black hair that fell in soft waves. I wondered what it was like to have an older sister. Probably a lot like having my mother minus the maternal expectations.
“Thank you,” I said to Emily. I desperately wanted to check my makeup and fidget with my dress.
“I’ve never been able to wear a matte lip like that,” Fiona told me with a sigh. She had an athletic build and reminded me of a famous surfer I’d seen on TV.
“Lots of exfoliation,” I said. “Also, video tutorials.”
“Oh my god, I watch those just to relax.” Fiona grinned. She subtly elbowed Emily, who looked pleased by our conversation. “I love the good eyeliner ones.”
“And the contouring and eyebrow ones.”
“Yes!” both Emily and Fiona said.
Mrs. Aquino was speaking quietly to Alex, her hands moving over his arms, clasping his hands and squeezing before letting go. He ducked his head and nodded at whatever she was saying. When she noticed my attention, she smiled brightly again and patted his tie. “Isn’t he handsome?”
“Yes,” I told her readily.
It was the right answer, because her smile grew even brighter. Mr. Aquino came into the room bearing a bottle of red wine. “I can’t get this thing open,” he complained.
Carlos took it from him. The older man spotted me. “Good to see you, Rosa.” The awkwardness of earlier was gone. I didn’t know if that was just his personality or the power of family dinner. Emily and Fiona were dragging more chairs over as Carlos pushed another table closer, its feet squeaking against the floor. Alex watched them with an annoyed scowl, offering no help. Javier gave Alex a happy smack to his shoulder. “Nice tie, son.”
Alex shook his head, but he smiled a little now. “You guys are the worst.”
Dinner was a warm, rambling affair. It was also very good. I never wanted to stop eating, which was fine, because everyone else had stories and they all tried to tell them at the same time. It was like being in the back room with the Peña family where Spanish words were woven into the laughs, and the room hummed with affection. And it was easy to feel like the baby in this room with all the talk of jobs and children. I wondered how the stories sounded to Alex.
“What about you, Rosa?” Emily asked me. “What’s the plan for Port Coral’s brightest?”
“Oh, I’m not valedictorian,” I answered by rote. She smiled, waiting for me to actually answer the question. “Uh, I’m not sure, but it’s between Florida, Miami, and Charleston. I have to secure my spot by May first.”
“That’s less than two weeks away,” Mr. Aquino said. “What’s the holdup?”
“Javier,” Mrs. Aquino whispered.
“No, that’s fine,” I said. “It’s a legitimate question. Some factors changed pretty recently, so I want to make sure I consider everything and make the right decision for me and my future.” That sounded a lot better than I’m kind of avoiding it completely to indulge in an ill-fated crush on your hot son and some occasional brujería.
“That’s good,” he said. “Better than making a decision you’ll regret and quitting early.”
An awkward silence settled heavily over the table. I was too nervous to look at Alex.
“Jesus, Dad,” Carlos said. “Why do you insist on making shit weird all the time. Leave him alone.”
“Oh, because I worry about him, I’m the bad guy?” Mr. Aquino argued.
“No, because you needle him,” Emily argued. “He’s not married, he doesn’t have kids. Let him breathe and figure this out.”
“This is why I don’t go to family dinner,” Alex said. Everyone stilled at the sound of his voice. “Also, thank you for ruining my date.” He started to make the motions of leaving, and I watched pain and panic swim in his mother’s eyes.
“There’s a lot to say for taking your time,” I blurted. My hand shot out to grab Alex’s thigh beneath the table and stay him. “I mean, I rushed everything. Flew through my first two years of college while still in high school for many valid reasons, but now I’ve got to make a lot of big decisions very quickly, and more than anything, I really just want a little breathing room.” I looked right at Mr. Aquino. “There’s a lot of pressure for immigrants and their kids when we wan
t to make good on the sacrifices. But sometimes the longer road is the right one.” Alex’s leg relaxed. I let go and sat back. I had no idea what came next. Would I be kicked out? Lectured? This was a whole new dad dynamic that I had no experience with whatsoever.
Something like surprise painted everyone’s expression in the ensuing silence. I glanced at Mr. Aquino again, who passed a searching look between Alex and me before saying, “As a parent, you simply want what’s best for your children. And for them to be happy.” He looked at his wife as if seeking her approval for his acquiescence. She appeared mildly appeased. Whatever argument was left unsaid between this family returned to its familiar place as Mr. Aquino raised his wineglass, perhaps his white flag of surrender, and his older children and wife followed suit. Alex nodded his acknowledgment, and under the table he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
Smaller conversations broke out as dinner wound down. Alex was pulled into one with his brother and sister, and I tried to listen in, but Mrs. Aquino started to describe her arthritis to me in detail. I was accustomed to this line of conversation from Mimi’s clients, and I settled back to listen as she described the cream she’d bought from my abuela and all the miracles she inspired. It was like listening to someone describe a vision of la Virgen sometimes.
“She’s amazing.” Maria finished her wine and rolled her wrist back and forth. “It’s fine. I can’t believe it. A little cream and now nada!” She pushed her seat back. “Let me show you my ankles—”
“Mom, no,” Alex interrupted. “I’m going to go get the tres leches cake. And, Dad—” He got to his feet and looked over at his father who was playing on one of his grandchildren’s phones. “More wine?” Mr. Aquino shook his empty wineglass. “Perfect. Rosa, will you help me out?” Something in Alex’s gaze told me not to question why he needed help grabbing two things.
“Of course.”
“I’ll show you when you come back,” Maria assured me.
