by Alexis Daria
Jasmine: What
Jasmine: The
Jasmine: Fuck
Oh hell. Jasmine knew. Michelle was never going to live this down after all the shit she’d given Jas about dating Ashton.
In her defense, she and Gabe weren’t working togeth—
Wait. Yes, they were. He’d hired her to consult for his business. Damn it.
Another text popped up.
Ava: My mom just called to ask if you have a man living with you at your parents’ house.
Since Valentina was still bochinchando about Florida chisme, Michelle typed back a reply.
Michelle: Cat’s out of the bag. I’m on the phone with my mom now.
Ava: Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?
From the living room, Michelle heard Gabe saying, “Nikki, listen to me. I was going to tell you but—”
“—to the quinceañera,” Valentina was saying, so Michelle brought the phone back to her ear.
“What’s that? Sorry, Jezebel did something.”
When in doubt, blame the cat.
“I was asking if you’re bringing Gabriel to Ronnie’s stepdaughter’s quinceañera this weekend.”
“No, I didn’t RSVP with a plus-one and you know how Ronnie—”
Valentina sucked her teeth. “No es nada. There’s always room for one more person.”
Michelle had a feeling her mom also wanted to show off to the entire family that Michelle was finally dating someone.
Fuck. Maybe the fake dating pretense wasn’t such a great idea after all. Her family had a tendency to blow anything relationship-adjacent out of proportion.
Michelle eyed Gabe, who was pacing the living room. There were worse things than having Latino Superman on her arm at a quinceañera. Plus, it would get on Ronnie’s nerves, which was a good enough reason to bring him.
Michelle and Ronnie had been frenemies since they were ten, when, while practicing triple axels in Abuela’s living room, Ronnie had broken a window and blamed it on Michelle. It wasn’t the indoor figure skating that caused the accident, but the baseball Ronnie had thrown at her older brother Sammy after he gave her a low score on her short routine.
“You have to bring him, Michie,” her mom was saying. “Everyone will want to see him.”
Especially since everyone already seemed to know Gabe was here. If Michelle didn’t bring him, the Rodriguez family would spend the entire quinceañera lamenting his absence.
Another text popped up.
Abuela Esperanza: ¿Tienes un novio?
Oh no. Even her grandmother knew about Gabe. Instead of answering whether or not she had a boyfriend, Michelle sent a winking emoji in reply and brought the phone back to her ear.
“I’ll ask him,” she hedged. “We’ll see.”
God, Gabe was going to hate this. She had to get off the phone before her mother pressured her into something else. Like a proposal.
“I gotta go, Mom. Jezebel is puking.”
Jezebel was currently curled up on one of the dining chair cushions taking a nap, oblivious to all the turmoil surrounding her.
“Not on my rugs!” Valentina cried.
“No, Jez, not there!” Michelle said, so convincingly that the cat raised her head and sent her an affronted look. “Bye, Mom.”
Michelle ended the call as Gabe wandered back to the kitchen doorway with a dazed expression on his face.
“My sister wants me to visit her,” he mumbled.
“And my mom has insisted I bring you to a quinceañera this weekend.”
Gabe frowned. “I thought your family didn’t do quinces. You didn’t have one.”
“It was a widely held belief among my mom and her siblings that quinceañeras and Sweet Sixteens were a waste of money, especially since all the girl cousins were such brats at that age. Except Ava, of course. Ava was perfect.”
“Nikki had one. Our entire family was there, even people I’d never met before. Whose birthday is it?”
“My cousin Ronnie’s stepdaughter.”
He squinted, like he was trying to remember. “Have I met Ronnie?”
“A long time ago,” Michelle replied. “Ronnie’s half Jamaican, but her husband is Mexican, and this is his daughter’s fifteenth birthday. Ronnie loves being the center of attention, and she’s starting an event planning business, so this is her chance to shine. It’ll drive her nuts if I show up with you, because everyone will be talking about us.”
“Fuck.” Gabe rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m supposed to be leaving tomorrow.”
“What did you think would happen if you told your dad we were together?” Michelle asked gently. She didn’t question why he hadn’t told his father about the gym. They could dig into that later.
“I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Let’s get through dinner with my parents tonight. Then I’ll think about the quince and my return ticket.”
“Fair enough. We’ll consider it a dress rehearsal, and then decide if we want to go through with opening night.”
“Deal.”
Fifteen years ago
Windows Messenger Chat Transcript
Celestial Destiny: Episode 5 Planning Session
Michelle:
AHHHHHH
Gabe:
Are we famous?
Michelle:
Maybe Internet famous.
Gabe:
At least fandom famous.
Michelle:
I don’t think that counts.
Gabe:
Probably not, but for two teenagers in the Bronx, this is pretty big.
Michelle:
I can’t believe Celestial Destiny has so many views.
Gabe:
I thought we’d be lucky if a dozen people read it.
Michelle:
You didn’t even want to post it online in the first place!
Gabe:
I stand corrected.
Michelle:
We have to step it up in the next chapter.
Gabe:
I’m leaving for Puerto Rico in a few days. I’m not sure what my abuela’s wifi situation is like.
Michelle:
And I’ll be at Disney World when you get back.
Gabe:
How could you be sad about Disney World?
Michelle:
I’m not sad about Disney World, I’m sad about not seeing my bestie for such a long time.
Gabe:
We can try to start the chapter before I leave, and maybe I’ll have time to work on it while I’m in PR.
Michelle:
Yeah right. Your mom is going to drag you around to see every single distant relative who still lives there. That’s what mine does when we visit the island.
Gabe:
Probably, but I’ll still try.
Michelle:
We should plan it out now. I’m leaving for a sleepover at Ava’s soon.
Gabe:
We need to escalate the conflict. It’s been a while since Zack’s family was involved, so I think the king’s guards should find them.
Michelle:
And Zack still has amnesia.
Gabe:
Really? He doesn’t wonder why the royal guards are after them?
Michelle:
Riva warned him that someone was chasing them. This will prove her right. Besides, we have to milk this story line for all it’s worth. For the fans.
Gabe:
All right. For the fans.
Chapter 15
He knows we’re having sex,” Gabe muttered darkly as Michelle locked the front door of her parents’ house. Focusing on his embarrassment over the Condom Aisle Confrontation kept all the other uncomfortable feelings at bay, but it required constant effort.
“Gabe, you’re thirty-one, not sixteen. Chill.” Michelle took his arm and steered him toward the steps. The only benefit to getting caught by his dad was that he no longer had to sneak in and out through the back of the Amatos’ house.
Gabe w
as wearing the same slacks he’d worn the day before and the nicest of the T-shirts he’d packed, but he kept touching his neck like he should be wearing a tie or something. Michelle had put on black jeans that made her ass look fantastic, and a sleeveless red wrap top that emphasized her hourglass figure.
“Should I go back and shave?” Gabe touched his cheek, felt the beard growth there. “I should shave.”
“You don’t need to shave. I like your face as it is.” She sent him a saucy grin and kept hold of his arm, probably so he couldn’t make a run for it.
They’d come up with a story to explain why Gabe was there, seeded with snippets of truth. According to the fabrication they’d concocted, Gabe had seen one of Jasmine’s Instagram pictures, which had led him to finding Michelle’s account. He’d DMed her—Michelle had insisted on this part, as penance for all the years he hadn’t replied to her messages—and they’d started talking. As they rekindled their old friendship, one thing led to another. Gabe had come to New York to stay with Michelle for a few days, to see if the spark they felt online existed in person, and he’d just gotten there the night before.
Why all the secrecy? Because they knew everyone would make a huge deal about it, and since this was so new, they wanted time to explore it alone before bringing their big nosy families into it, especially with Gabe’s complicated history with his own parents.
Michelle had crafted most of the story, and Gabe had been too absorbed in ironing his T-shirt to give much input. But something about it reminded him of all the times they’d brainstormed plot points for their fanfic together. Back and forth, coming up with bigger and more outrageous galactic adventures for Zack and Riva. He’d missed that.
Even armed with what Michelle had claimed was a convincing lie, Gabe’s stomach was still tied in knots as they made their way over to his parents’ house and up the steps to the front door.
Part of him wanted to run all the way back to California and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Another part of him just wanted to get this over with.
And yet another part wanted to see his mom again. She’d reached out to him after the blowup with his dad at Nikki’s wedding, but as he had with Michelle, Gabe had ignored her entreaties.
At the door, Michelle slid her hand down his arm to lace her fingers with his. She gave his hand a light squeeze.
“You should ring,” she said softly, smiling up at him. “It’ll be okay. I’m right here.”
Gabe took strength from her reassuring smile. As much as he wished he’d never started this ruse, and as much as he wanted to blame her for dragging him back to the Bronx in the first place, he was glad to have her by his side so he didn’t have to do this alone.
Clinging to her with one hand, he raised his other one and rang the doorbell.
The familiar bing-bong he remembered from his childhood rang out, and he held his breath. A moment later, the door swung open, and his mother’s face appeared on the other side of the screen.
“¡Mi Gabriel!” she cried, then pushed open the screen door to let them in. “Ay dios mío. Get inside, get inside.”
“Hi, Mami.” Gabe stepped into the house and was hit with the familiar aromas of lemon polish and his mom’s cooking. It slammed him back to his past just as his mother threw her arms around his neck and hugged him so tight he thought he would choke.
“Ay mi nene,” she crooned. “Mi bebe.”
Gabe hugged her back, astonished by how small she felt. She’d always been short, but now she seemed tiny. Was he really that much bigger? Or was she shrinking with age?
That thought upset him, so he pushed it away, holding his mother while she rocked him.
Finally, she released him, and lifted a hand to wipe her eyes.
Fuck, he’d made his mom cry.
“Mami, no llores,” he pleaded, feeling like the worst son in the world.
“Estoy bien,” she said, brushing him off. Then she clapped her hands on his shoulders and squeezed his biceps, shooting Michelle a knowing look. “Mira, qué grande y fuerte.”
Michelle smiled easily and leaned in to kiss the older woman on the cheek. “Hola, Norma. Nice to see you.”
Norma looped her arm through Gabe’s and walked him toward the kitchen. Despite the years, his mother’s brown skin remained smooth and her spiraling curls were still dark, with only a little gray at her temples. “Oye, muchacho. I wanted to go over there right away, pero your father told me lo que estabas comprando, y él lo dijo qué I shouldn’t interrupt you.”
Gabe’s face burned and he wanted to die. His father had told his mother about the condoms. Because of course he had. Why should anyone have privacy or secrets in a Latinx family?
“Anyway, I’m so happy you two are finally together.” Norma grabbed Michelle’s hand with her free one and beamed at her. “I always knew it would happen. Gracias, Michelle, por devolverme a mi hijo.”
“I wanted him back too,” Michelle admitted, then sent Gabe a quick glance that had his heart flipping over in his chest.
In the kitchen, Gabe was in for another shock. His father was at the stove—cooking.
Not just cooking. He was pan-searing a slab of fish like a pro.
“Ay, bueno. You’re here.” Esteban gestured toward the table with a tilt of his head. “Siéntate ahora. This will be ready en un momentito.”
Gabe turned to his mom in wonder. “Papi’s cooking?”
“He cooks all the time.” She released him and gestured to the dining table, which was new, and not covered in a plastic tablecloth. “Sit, both of you. Michelle, you want wine?”
“I’d love some.” Michelle sent her a winning smile.
Norma bustled over to the counter and leaned down to open—whoa, was that a wine cooler?
“¿Qué tipo de vino?” Norma called out, peering at the bottles stacked in the mini-fridge. “Tenemos rojo, y blanco, y verde . . .”
“Red is fine,” Michelle replied, raising her voice to be heard over the exhaust fan blasting over the stove.
“Perfecto. I have a Pinot Noir chilling in here to go with the salmon.” Norma straightened and came up with a dark bottle. Then she expertly uncorked it and poured the wine into the four glasses waiting on the counter above. She carried two over to the table.
Gabe could barely mutter a gracias because he was so dumbfounded by the situation.
And it only got stranger from there.
His mother carried over a large bowl of arugula salad, something Gabe would have bet money his parents didn’t even know existed. And his father—wearing a navy-blue linen apron tied around his waist—plated the fish, adding slices of lemon and sprigs of dill for garnish. Gabe thought he spotted rice on the side, but to his utter amazement, it was quinoa.
Gabe looked around. Was this the right house?
Michelle, of course, got along with his parents beautifully. She’d seen them many times over the years, and they’d always thought the world of her. While part of Gabe resented them for it when he was younger, he couldn’t blame them. She was amazing.
He just wished they could have spared some of that praise for him once in a while.
Michelle and his mother carried most of the conversation, keeping it light. They talked about Jasmine’s latest film project, about Nikki’s kids, about Michelle’s parents. And every time his dad got close to asking something about why Gabe hadn’t been in touch, his mother jumped in with a question or comment, then shot Esteban a dark glare when she thought no one else was looking.
Who were his parents? They knew about wine pairings and had a wine refrigerator installed under the counter. His father was searing salmon rather competently. His mother was interfering before his father could pick a fight—also competently. Where the hell had this side of her been during his youth?
Because as much anger as Gabe carried toward his father, he reserved some for his mom too. She’d stood by and let his father berate him and control him for years. She’d taken his father’s side whe
n it came to Gabe working in the stationery store, leaving Gabe to advocate for himself when he had baseball practice or school events his father had deemed a waste of time.
Gabe ate his food—which was fucking delicious—and tried to reconcile what he was seeing now with his memories from before.
When Gabe started high school, he’d gotten more health conscious. He’d begged his father to change his eating habits, but Esteban loved his meat and rice, and he’d refused to listen, regardless of what Gabe or his doctors said.
It looked like someone had finally gotten through to him.
Gabe found himself getting quieter as the meal went on, as memories pressed him from all sides. The plates were different, but the framed mosaic of La Virgen de Guadalupe was the same. One side of the fridge was still covered with magnets from Puerto Rico and Mexico, but it was a new fridge. Gabe was consumed with the urge to wander the house looking for things he remembered and noting the changes, but this wasn’t his house anymore. And it was still ingrained in him not to leave the table during dinner. He couldn’t just get up and go snooping around.
The sensation of being a stranger in his own home was overwhelming, even more so than when he’d been at Michelle’s.
It hurt to admit it, but he’d missed this house. Missed this neighborhood. Missed his parents.
The nostalgia was killing him.
Suddenly, all he wanted to do was blurt out the news about the gym expansion. To fill them in on all the things he’d done and accomplished since the last time they’d seen him. To show them he was a success, damn it.
But one of his earliest regular PT clients had been a therapist, and Gabe had done a lot of talking while he’d worked on the guy. He understood enough about himself now to know this urge came from a need for validation from his father, and Gabe refused to indulge that need anymore.
As lukewarm as he’d once felt about bringing Agility to New York, now, more than ever, Gabe wanted it to be a hit. No matter what it took, he was going to make it happen.
When the meal was over, his mother brought out homemade flan for dessert.
“He always loved my flan,” Norma gushed to Michelle as they dug in. “¿Te gusta, Gabriel?”
