Lovestruck Forever

by Rachel Schurig

  “Is this how we’ll dance at our wedding?” he asked.

  “Hopefully I won’t step on your toes the way I did with Carlos.”

  His soft laughter was interrupted by Sofie clearing her throat in the doorway. “Food’s here,” she said. “You look ridiculous, by the way.”

  “We’re practicing for the wedding,” Thomas shot back, and she made a gagging noise.

  “Whatever. I’m going back to the table and pretending I don’t know you.”

  I released Thomas, and he made a noise of mock-outrage. “You’re ditching me on the dance floor?”

  “Didn’t you hear her?” I called over my shoulder as I made my way to the door. “The food is here.”

  He sighed loudly, quickly catching up to me. “I should have known not to attempt to come between you and food.”

  I smacked his bottom lightly, making him jump. “See? You do catch on fast.”

  ***

  The food was delicious, as always. The owner, Miguel, came over after we’d been served to check in on us. “How is your mother?” he asked me, holding my hand, a concerned look on his face.

  “Much better,” I told him. “She’s been working hard in rehab, walking and talking almost like normal.”

  “Oh, good.” He looked visibly relieved—Miguel had known my parents for years. “You’ll give her my love? And tell her dinner’s on the house whenever she feels up to getting down here.”

  I gave him a quick grin. “Knowing my dad, ‘dinner on the house’ is all he’ll need to hear. They’ll probably be down within the week.”

  Miguel laughed, releasing my hand. As he did, the diamond on my left ring finger gleamed in the light, and I could see it catch his eye. “Elizabeth, is that an engagement ring?”

  I ducked my head, feeling a little shy. “It is.” I gestured to my left. “This is my fiancé, Thomas.”

  Miguel swooped down to kiss my cheek before grabbing Thomas’s hand in both of his. “Congratulations! You’re a very lucky man.”

  “I am that,” Thomas agreed, smiling at me. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Sofie look away, an unreadable expression on her face.

  Miguel gushed over us for a few more minutes, telling Thomas that I’d been coming into his restaurant since I was a tiny little thing in braids, how I had celebrated my quince right here, and he had been honored to host it. He finally left us to finish our meals before they got cold, promising he would send over a celebratory dessert later.

  “You say hi to your parents for me, too, Sofia,” he said before leaving, patting Sofie on the shoulder. She smiled in return, but I couldn’t help thinking it seemed forced.

  “So,” she said, her voice bright enough to make me think that perhaps I was imagining that she’d been acting somewhat strange all day. “Speaking of the engagement, when are you guys going to set a date?”

  Thomas and I shared a glance. “We kind of did last night,” I told her. “Now that Mama is feeling better and the party will be out of the way, I think we’re ready to get going. We’re thinking October.”

  She clapped her hands, all trace of tightness gone from her face now. “October! That’s so soon! You better tell them about London ASAP.”

  I sighed, the same frustration from last night filling my chest. “You were right before. They probably won’t go for it.”

  Sofie shook her head, her expression much more bitter than the situation seemed to call for. “It’s such crap. You should get to do what you want—it’s your wedding.”

  There it was again, that same weirdness when our family was brought up. She had said her mom was on her case—were they arguing more lately? I knew Sofie was starting to hint about getting her own place. For many families, that probably wouldn’t be a big deal—she was twenty-four years old and had a decent job in a hospital billing department. But in our family, it wasn’t exactly common for girls to move away from home before they were married. Could that be what was bothering her?

  We were interrupted by the waiter bringing the desserts that Miguel had promised. Sofie quickly changed the subject to Thomas’s movie career.

  “I haven’t had any good celebrity gossip in ages,” she said pleadingly. “You need to get back out there, dude!”

  A thoughtful look came over his face—he almost looked wistful.

  “You know,” I realized aloud, “now that we’ve set a date, you could totally start looking for your next project.”

  He turned to me, clearly surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we haven’t really known what our schedule was going to be like, right? That’s why you were holding off on looking for roles. But now we know when the wedding will be and when the honeymoon will be—won’t you want to start working after that?”

  I could tell from the eager expression in his eyes that he was absolutely ready to start thinking about work. His expression made perfectly clear the thing I had known these last few months in Detroit—he had given up a lot to be here with me.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his tone much more cautious than his expression. “We haven’t really talked about where we’ll be after all of that. Won’t we want to get settled into married life first?”

  “We’ll be wherever you need to be.” I hoped he could tell how serious I was. “My mom doesn’t need me around every day anymore. I figured once we were married, we’d just relocate to wherever your next project was.”

  He couldn’t hide the excitement in his face at the prospect of working again, but still he merely nodded. “We’ll see.”

  “Well, I for one am totally ready for you to start working again,” Sofie said, grabbing her sopapilla and taking a huge bite. She swallowed and smiled at him. “Lizzie said she’d take me to the next premiere and find me a hot actor to hook up with.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed, straight-faced. I found Thomas’s hand under the table and squeezed. “So you better get to it, buddy.”

  Chapter Four

  We were all so full after lunch, we decided to walk for a bit before our stops at the market and bakery. Sofie and I led Thomas down the busy street toward the residential blocks beyond. When we passed a dress shop, Sofie insisted we stop in front of the window display so she could show Thomas the big, flouncy, crinoline- and tulle-filled dresses. “Hers was a lot like that one,” she said, pointing at a hot pink dress with a particularly large skirt.

  “And Sof’s was more like that one.” I pointed to a straighter, slinkier dress in the back of the display. “But with twice the number of crystals.”

  “I’m definitely going to need to see pictures of these.” Thomas slid an arm around my waist and winked down at me.

  We continued down the street until the bustle of shops and pedestrians had faded somewhat. “This was our Aunt Anita’s house,” Sofie said, pointing at a tall, narrow house surrounded by a white iron fence. The small, neat yard was filled with flowerpots and several iconic statues of the Virgin Mary. “She moved out to the suburbs a few years after our parents.”

  “And down there,” I pointed a few houses further, “was our grandparents’ house. My parents moved us in there after our abuela died.”

  “Did you live there?” he asked, peering down the street with interest.

  “Until I was two.”

  “Then I want to see it.”

  We held hands, Sofie beside me, as we strolled down the block. It was one of those interesting Detroit streets, full of history and charm but only blocks from the more run-down areas. I had long ago grown used to the contrasts of a neighborhood like this, of the carefully maintained, proud houses on one street and the more rundown, sometimes abandoned houses on the next.

  “It looks small,” I said, looking up at the house that my parents and I had lived in for a brief time. “Hard to imagine us all fitting in there.”

  “Hard to imagine us all fitting anywhere,” Sofie muttered.

  “It’s pretty,” Thomas said, his head tilted back to take in the entire house. It was ta
ll and narrow, like the houses on either side of it. Like my aunt’s house, it had a low, white iron fence surrounding the front yard, which was very neatly manicured. I looked up at the bright yellow door, the lace curtains on the windows. So much of it was exactly the way I remembered.

  “It was such a big deal for them,” I said, shaking my head. “Moving out to the suburbs. It was like they were really moving up in the world.”

  Sofie snorted, thinking, I was sure, about the sleepy little suburb we had grown up in. “That’s us, living the high life,” she said.

  “They worked hard to get there,” Thomas said. “To provide more for the lot of you.”

  I looked down the street, wondering how my life would have been different if we had stayed in the city. I still would have had the constant family presence, maybe even worse if we’d all lived within mere blocks of each other, instead of miles. And I probably would have had more classmates that looked like me, as opposed to the predominately white schools I had attended. Other than that, I wasn’t sure what would have changed. Less room, I guessed. But the same love, the same lessons about family and loyalty and self-reliance.

  They really do love you, I thought to myself. Everything Sofie said about the wedding was probably true—they’d make a huge deal out of everything and try to make all the decisions for me. But they would do that because they would want me to have the perfect wedding. They’d want the whole family to be there, to celebrate with us. Because, no matter how annoying they could be, nothing was more important to them than family. Than love.

  Maybe they’ll be okay with London, I thought. They want me to be happy and have the wedding of my dreams. Maybe if I can show them London is what I truly want, they’ll be okay.

  Sofie interrupted my musing. “We should get going.” She pulled out her phone to peer down at the clock on the screen. “Maria gave me a giant list of things to pick up.”

  So we ambled back toward the market where Sofie could check things off her list. Spices, dried peppers, horchata mix. Everything my sisters and cousins needed to create a delicious meal for dozens of people. While Sofie shopped, I picked up a few bottles of Manzana Lift, my favorite imported soda, for us to enjoy on the way home. I found Thomas standing in front of a candy display.

  “I don’t know what half of these are,” he admitted.

  “This is good.” I pointed at a rose-shaped candy wrapped in clear plastic. “Mazapan. This one is different. It’s called tamarind. It’s hard to describe, there isn’t really an anglo candy like it. A little spicy, I guess.”

  Thomas picked up several of each of the candies I pointed out, as well as a few more brightly colored wrappers that must have looked interesting to him. I grabbed the lot and headed to the register with the apple sodas. I finished paying for everything right as Sofie approached the counter, her basket full of items.

  “You weren’t joking about that list,” I muttered, reaching for the basket.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said, plopping it down in front of the register. “This is coming from the party budget.”

  I held up my hands. “Be my guest.”

  Thomas was leaning against the counter, ripping open the wrapper on his tamarind. I watched as he examined the flat, chewy piece of candy before shrugging slightly and ripping a bite off with his teeth. He chewed for a minute, his expression going from curious to horrified.

  “What is this?” He cried, grimacing.

  “I told you it was different,” I reminded him, struggling not to giggle. He shook his head in disgust.

  “What’d you give him?” Sof asked, turning away from her conversation with the clerk.

  “Tamarind.”

  She snickered. “Did you warn him?”

  “Of course.” I used the bottle opener on the end of the counter to pop the top from his soda, handing it to him and swiping the tamarind from his other hand.

  “Here, you’ll like this.”

  “I don’t know if I trust you anymore,” he muttered, but he took the bottle and gulped down a long swallow.

  “I told you it was hard to describe,” I reminded him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “In the future, I’ll remember ‘hard to describe’ means terrible.”

  “Oh, it’s not terrible.” To prove my point, I shoved the rest of the candy in my mouth, chewing happily. “You’re just a baby,” I mumbled through a full mouth of the sticky candy.

  He stuck out his tongue at me. “Candy should be sweet.”

  Sofie finished paying for her purchases, and we waved goodbye to the store clerk. Thomas, ever the gentleman, took her bags from her.

  “Thanks,” she said, opening the door for us both. “Let’s stash that stuff in the car before we go to the bakery.”

  The intoxicating smell from Gloria’s reached my nose when we were still a few buildings away. Sofie stopped on the sidewalk next to me, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. “It’s been too long,” she murmured.

  “Come on.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the door. “The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can actually eat things.”

  Gloria’s had a small storefront, filled with glass cases. In each case was an array of different baked goods, each more enticing than the last. “Here,” I said to Thomas, grabbing a cafeteria tray and a set of tongs from the shelf in front of the door. “It’s self-serve.”

  He looked around the room, wide-eyed. “Okay, I concede that you weren’t exaggerating.”

  “And you haven’t even tasted anything yet,” Sofie said happily, grabbing the tongs from him and opening the first case.

  Though just about everything in the store was delicious, there were three or four things I particularly liked—a jam-filled sugar cookie, a churro covered in powdered sugar, and a delicate cinnamon cake—that I was sure to grab. Thomas, however, was not interested in being discriminating. He grabbed at least one of every single thing that looked good to him, until our tray was overflowing.

  “When are you going to have time to eat all of that?” Sofie demanded.

  “I’ll find a way.”

  At the counter, Sofie gave my sister’s name to a tired-looking employee with flour stains all over her shirt. The woman smiled and slipped into the back, returning with two large, white cardboard baker’s boxes. “What’s that?” I asked with interest, reaching for the lid to the first box.

  Sofie slapped my hand away. “That’s our special order. The cake and about a hundred tortillas.”

  “I want to see the cake,” I persisted, reaching again. This time she grabbed my hand and twisted my fingers, a favorite trick Maria employed as a child to keep us from touching her things.

  “You’ll see the cake at the party.”

  I scowled at her, but she merely turned to the register to pay for the special order.

  “I’ve got this stuff,” Thomas told her, holding the tray closer to his chest.

  “Damn right you do,” she said, smiling at him sweetly. “Since you’re the one that pigged out.”

  Once everything was paid for, Sof stacked the two boxes in Thomas’s arms, his full-to-bursting paper bag of goodies on top. I laughed at the picture he presented and took his arm to guide him back out to the car—I doubted he could even see over the bounty.

  Once we had everything loaded up in the car, Thomas pulled out into the late afternoon traffic. “That was a really nice day,” he told me, his hand comfortably on my knee.

  “I’m glad you got to see this place.”

  “Who wants a churro?” Sofie called from the back seat, rummaging through the bag.

  “Me!”

  We feasted on baked goods the entire way home. I was already full from the large lunch, but somehow managed to help Sofie and Thomas make our way through half of the bag.

  “I’m not ever eating again,” Sofie muttered from the back seat as we pulled onto my parents’ street.

  “You say that now,” I said, rubbing my own aching stomach, �
�but just you wait until you get into my mom’s kitchen and smell all the smells of delicious things cooking for the party.”

  They both groaned as Thomas parked in front of the house. It was still early—my dad and brothers would most likely be at work. But Maria’s and Laura’s cars were both parked out front, along with Sofie’s mom’s. As we hopped out of Thomas’s SUV, I sensed her tense next to me. I was reminded of all the weird little things I’d noticed throughout the day, the way she seemed more annoyed than usual about her family, the way her expression had tightened when Thomas and I talked about the wedding. There was something going on with her, I was sure of it.

  Before I could say anything, she was moving to unload things out of the trunk. “Give me a hand,” she called. “Just because this is your party doesn’t mean you’re off scot free.”

  I’ll ask her about it later, I promised myself. After the party is over.

  I followed her inside, to a kitchen that was almost certainly already full of preparations, and tried to ignore the little seed of worry that was planting itself in my stomach.

  Chapter Five

  If there was one thing that could be said for my family, it’s that they sure know how to throw a party. I stood in the kitchen on Friday night after Thomas, Sofie, and I had dropped off the supplies from Mexicantown and watched as a collection of sisters, aunts, and cousins went to work, cooking and baking. Maria, true to form, flitted from the kitchen to the back yard, where the guys in the family were busy organizing the folding chairs, putting up the tents, stringing lights, and hauling coolers, grills, and other various equipment from the back of pickup trucks.

  “Holy crap,” Thomas had muttered, staring out at the yard in something close to awe. “They’re not messing around, are they?”

  I shook my head, feeling like I might burst into laughter at the look on his face. “My family doesn’t really know the meaning of the words ‘keeping it simple,’” I pointed out.

  He smiled, slipping an arm around my waist. “I hope you remember all of this the next time they’re driving you crazy,” he murmured into my ear.