Carmen Morales is a twenty-nine-year-old transwoman who works for an insurance broker in Orange County while attending law school at night. When her father has a stroke that leaves him in a coma, she is summoned back to the Kern County home she was kicked out of twelve years before, by the Grandmother – “Abuela” – who refused to intervene. She spends several days there and determines that he has no health insurance, and Abuela convinces her to apply to be his temporary conservator.

The family’s reaction to the conservatorship application is mixed. Carmen’s Aunt Maria, married to the eldest of Abuela’s sons (Angel) vehemently opposes the application and tries to convince the rest of family to oppose it. However, Carmen’s Uncles Augustin and Javier agree to support her. Before returning to Orange County for work, Carmen meets with Andar Kasparian, the attorney the court appointed to investigate the conservator application.

Several days later, Kasparian calls Carmen while she is at work, and tells her that her uncle Fernando, serving time for armed robbery, has contact information for Carmen’s mother, and the hearing on the conservatorship might get postponed if she doesn’t consent to the appointment. With help from Kelsey (who gets the email address from her father) and Katie (who tracks her down online), Carmen speaks with her for the first time in 21 years. Her mother – who has since married another man – consents to Carmen’s appointment as conservator . . . but tells her to lose her number.

Chapter 20: The Picnic

I was up early, yet again. While I’d had a very hard time getting to sleep, when I finally got there I stayed dead to the world for six solid hours. It would do.

Lourdes wandered into the kitchen, looking adorable in a soft, oversized t-shirt, and gave me a sleepy smile. “Good morning, Carmencita. I love it when you’re up early.”

“Why’s that?”

Her smile deepened, dimpling her right cheek. “I get to wake up and smell the coffee!”

“Well, I aim to please.” I poured her a cup and added a touch of milk – just the way she liked it.

She leaned against the counter, brought the cup to her lips and carefully blew on the steaming liquid. “How are you feeling this morning?”

I waggled my fingers. “Okay, I guess. Momma’s attitude was a shock, but . . . I mean, I haven’t seen her in twenty-one years. It’s not like she’s a big part of my life.”

“A shock?” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay to say you’re hurting, you know.”

I shrugged, uncomfortably. “I should know, after all these years. But . . . it doesn’t come easy.”

“I know. . . . So, you’re leaving early?”

I nodded. “There’s a family get-together for the Fourth. Uncle Angel’s always hosted, ’cuz he had the pool. And, of course, because he’s The Eldest. Whatever. But this year . . . .” I sighed. “Anyway, he and Aunt Maria said they weren’t going to do it. Uncle Augui decided he’d host.”

“Because of what happened the last time you were up?”

“Yeah. I mean, not that anyone said anything, but . . . I certainly can’t remember a time Uncle Angel didn’t host all of the big summer things. Memorial Day, Labor Day, and the Fourth of July.”

“And everyone always went?”

“Almost always. I mean, you needed a really good excuse not to. You know, like cousin ’Lina being in Anchorage.”

She nodded, understanding. “So, this will be a test, won’t it? Who comes, and who stays away?”

“I hope it isn’t. Maybe people will come whether they accept me or not.” I couldn’t keep the heartache from my voice.

“It’s not your fault, Carmen.”

“Maybe not, but I know that everyone will breathe a lot easier when I’ve disappeared again.”

“Everyone?” She looked skeptical.

“I guess I mean what Katie was talking about the other night. Some members of the family, maybe, might be sad to see me go. But the family as a unit? As some sort of community?” I shook my head. “It’s like I’ve knocked over a beehive or something.”

Her dark eyes were thoughtful, weighing my words. “Maybe it needed to be knocked over.”

~o~O~o~

I’d hoped to beat the holiday traffic by getting out early, but luck wasn’t with me. Waze was showing early backups on the 5 and the 110; the pokey 405 turned out to be the best of the bad choices available. It was close to 11:00 when I started on the downhill slope of the Grapevine, and I decided I’d better go straight to Uncle Augui’s house rather than stopping first at the hospital. Innie had asked me to arrive a little early if I could.

The idea of dressing up for a family picnic never would have occurred to anyone I’d grown up with. I had, nonetheless, taken some care in deciding what to wear. I wanted it to be feminine; too bad if that made anyone uncomfortable! But I also wanted it to be modest. Aunt Consola had no doubt been pressed into hosting, but there was no reason to rub her nose in it.

Finally, I knew that whatever I chose, it needed to be cool. Early July in Buttonwillow, we were already over 100 degrees, and it probably would top out at close to 110 by 3:00. Low humidity, fortunately, and that would help – but only so far.

I ended up with a pair of olive-green capris and a tan tank top with a conservative neckline. Very plain sandals. No jewelry, other than studs in my ears. I wore makeup, but took plenty of time to make it look like I wasn’t.

Ready or not, here I come!

I walked up to the front door, carrying a canvas bag with a couple bottles of coke and some chips, feeling very self-conscious. Back in the day, I wouldn’t have knocked. I’d have just gone around to the back, where I assumed the cooking would be done. Or maybe just poked my head in. But it had been too long, and too much had happened. I wasn’t young Carlos anymore. Taking a breath to steady myself, I rang the doorbell.

After a moment of delay, Innie opened the door. She was showing a lot more skin than me, wearing shorts and a cami top, but it was her house. “Yo, girl! You lookin’ for an engraved invite or something?”

“I know! But . . . feels like it’s been too long.”

“You think too much.”

“So, between the two of us we might even come up to average?”

“Nice!” She stood aside and let me in.

“What can I do to help, and where should I put these?” I asked, indicating my groceries.

“I need to go keep Poppa from driving Jesus crazy – he’s trying to assemble the new grill. You can help madre in the kitchen. She’ll tell you where to put the stuff.”

I swallowed.

“What’s this?” She grinned. “Afraid she’ll douse you with holy water?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I lied.

She dropped her grin and gave me a level look. “Carmen. I’m not throwing you to the wolves. Just . . . go easy on her, okay?”

“You want me to go easy on her?” I shook my head, baffled.

“Yeah. Look . . . Poppa and me, we’ve done what we could to get her to understand. And honest to her weird God, she’s trying.”

Just then tia Consola called out from the kitchen. “Innie – who is it?”

“Go on,” Innie urged.

“I’ll get you for this,” I growled.

That brought her grin back. “Can’t wait to watch you try!” She darted out, taking the slider from the dining room out to the back.

I went the other way, and walked into the kitchen. Just as I remembered. Everything old, well-used, and well-maintained. At least they’d put on fresh paint to cover the original, horrid colors.

Tia Consola was washing something in the sink, her back to me, but she heard my footsteps. “Innie, what . . . .” She stopped speaking just as she turned and caught sight of me.

“Hi tia Consola,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Innie went back to supervise the boys. She suggested I should give you a hand.”

She visibly collected her scattered thoughts, while managing to say nothing beyond, “Oh.”

To give her time, I tried, “Where would you like chips and soda?”

The concrete request seemed to penetrate. “Oh – just put it on the kitchen table for now.”

Seeing a colander filled with Yukon Gold in the sink, I tried, “Going for the classic Fourth of July Potato Salad?”

“What?”

Sigh. “Can I help you peel potatoes?”

She shook her head, as if to clear double vision, then appeared to focus. “Of course. Why don’t you sit down?”

I did that, while she bustled around, getting the potatoes, the big orange serving bowl I remembered from decades back, a peeler and a knife.

She handed me the peeler, sat down, and grabbed her first potato. “Emelina got me the peeler,” she explained, “but I was always faster with the knife.”

I nodded without saying anything, and started peeling.

After a couple minutes of working in silence, she said, “Augui and Innie . . . they wanted me to try to understand. They got frustrated with me . . . especially Innie!” Her smile was rueful. “But I don’t want the family to be divided. At each other’s throats, like we were two weeks ago.”

I nodded, and didn’t look up. “Once I’m finished with the temporary conservatorship – assuming I’m appointed – I will be out of everyone’s hair.”

She shook her head sharply. “That’s not the answer.”

“Well, it’s an answer,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “Everyone can go back to normal.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you don’t belong. That’s not right.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On the one hand, it was a surprisingly nice sentiment. On the other . . . .

I decided to say both. “Thank you! Really. But truth is, I really don’t belong here. Down in Orange County, I’m not even considered all that strange!”

Her right hand automatically moved to make the sign of the cross, then she caught herself. “Oh! That bossy daughter of mine told me to leave God out of it!”

I chuckled. “She bosses you, too?”

That brought a smile . . . a fond one. “Of course.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave God out of it.” My attention returned to getting every bit of skin off the potato in my hand. “I know how important your faith is to you.”

“But not to you?”

“I’m still a believer,” I said carefully. “But I’m not welcome in the church.”

She thought about that for a moment. Her knife flew, but somehow her potato peels didn’t; they just dropped into a neat little stack. Then she said, “I don’t want to argue, and I promised Augustin that I wouldn’t. But I don’t understand how you can have faith, but still have done this thing to the body God gave you. How?”

Her tone was genuine, and even if it hadn’t been, I owed it to Innie to go easy on her. So I said, “I was born with a male body, but I’m all female on the inside. Living my life as a woman is honest; pretending to be a man was a lie. I just took advantage of medical science to make it easier to live my life the right way. The honest way.”

She still looked puzzled. “How do you know you’re a woman inside?”

“The same way anyone does, I guess. I just know. But it’s also how I deal with people, how I solve problems, how I express myself – everything.”

She frowned. “Like, how you peel potatoes?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t peel potatoes like a man would.”

It was my turn to be baffled. “How do men peel potatoes?”

She laughed softly. “They stand around looking helpless until a woman does it.”

“Oh!” I smiled. “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of like that. But across the board, you know?”

We finished the potatoes, put them in a large pot, and covered them with cold water before setting the pot to boil. She set me to work dicing the hard-boiled eggs, celery, dill pickles, and shallots, while she pulled together the herbs, salt, mustard and vinegar. Mostly, we worked in silence; it seemed to me that she was thinking hard, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.

She finally sat across from me and sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. And I don’t know whether it’s right or wrong, what you did. But you’re family, and I want you to feel welcome. I don’t want you thinking you have to run back to that horrid place as soon as you have finished setting things up for Juan.”

I kept chopping, processing her words as I was processing the vegetables. I wanted to find something more positive to say than “thank you,” but it was all I could manage.

After a while, she tried again. “I spoke with Deacon Raul about you last Sunday after mass. I told him I didn’t even know what to pray for. He said I should just pray for you, rather than some outcome or other. He figured God would know what you needed.”

“That’s my hope, too.”

“The Deacon’s a good man. A prayerful man. You should talk to him. I hate to think of you, lost to mother Church.”

“I’m afraid my issues with the Church go above his paygrade,” I said gently. “But . . . don’t think of me as lost, tia Consola. I have to take a different road. The destination’s still the same.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Fancy talk.”

“Remember when I was little, and you taught all the chavos about the faith? Me and Innie and Kels were in the same group, ’cuz we were all the same age.”

She nodded.

“Over and over, you used to tell us the same thing, to comfort us. When I was older, I memorized it. Remember? ‘I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature . . . ?’”

“‘ . . . shall be able to separate us from the love of God,’” she finished, but shook her head. “It makes me nervous, that you have answers for everything. The devil can quote scripture.”

I nodded. “I hear a lot of devils quoting scripture these days. But I’m not trying to be slick; I’ve just had a lot of time to reconcile my faith with my being trans. You’ve only had a couple of weeks to think about it.”

She made a noncommittal noise. Under the circumstances, I’d take it. Baby steps.

We got up, drained the potatoes, and combined all the ingredients. It all seemed pretty perfect to me – a flavor that brought back the picnics of all of those endless summers of childhood. Back when I just thought I had problems!

“Alright,” she said. “Tell that lazy daughter of mine that we’ve finished our talk and she can get back to doing real work.”

“Will do.” But at the door to the kitchen I turned back. “Tia? Could you do me a favor?”

Her suspicious look was back. “Maybe.”

“When you’re praying for me . . . could you call me Carmen?”

~o~O~o~

I’d spent a fair bit of time in Innie’s backyard when we were kids. Like all the houses in Buttonwillow, it was small, but Uncle Augui had kept the grass meticulously. I was shocked to find all that gone, replaced by pavers. The jacaranda tree was still there in the middle, now broad and mature, providing much-needed shade.

“We had to give up on the grass,” Uncle Augui explained, as he collected the tools from Jesus’ successful assembly of the new grill. “Last year, the rain was like nothing we’d seen for years, but . . . we’d had a lot of years of drought.”

“The pavers look nice,” I said, trying to be positive.

He beamed. “I came up with the pattern myself. But I’m just as glad that I didn’t have to do the work – my knees don’t like all that kneeling! Jesus talked to his brother, and he came with some equipment to do all the grading and leveling.”

“Which brother – AJ? Or Miggie?”

“AJ – he’s working for a construction company in Bakersfield. Miguel’s at Pomegranate Paradise.”

Just then a mutt of a dog streaked onto the patio, coming from the side of the house, and made a beeline for Jesus.

“Rufus!” His smile was as genuine as I’ve ever seen it, and he knelt down to give the dog the attention it demanded.

Innie came through the slider with a cooler, which she set down conveniently close to the grill. Seeing Rufus, she smiled. “Brace yourself.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but it just stayed open without sound as Rufus’ owner came around the side of the house, easily holding a baby who was probably a year-and-a-half or so in the crook of his powerful left arm, her face nuzzled into his chest. My mind instantly superimposed the image of the man’s father, holding my cousin Joanne with the same effortless grace.

He headed directly toward Innie, Uncle Augui and me, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.

“¡Órale!, AJ,” I managed. “I’d swear I was looking at your padre!” What I didn’t say, though it was true, was that he was the spitting image of tio Javier before his injury – a deep, red-brown tan, blue-black hair (like, everywhere!), and powerful as a blacksmith.

He grinned, and immediately looked years younger. I could even recognize the chavo he’d been, the last time I’d seen him. Better yet, there was no condemnation in his dark eyes – only humor, and curiosity. “I’m thinking maybe you’ve changed more – but at least mi ’mano warned me.”

“Yeah, Jesus got me out of a real jam.” Turning my attention to the child he was carrying, I said, “And who’s this angel?”

He planted a soft kiss on the top of her dark head. “This is Regina, our youngest. Lydia’s herding the other two.”

“She’s adorable!”

“Yeah, she’s a cutie, alright.” He gave me a funny look and said, “Want to hold her? I’m thinking mi vida could use my help.”

“I’d love to!” I mean, what else could I say? Alejandro couldn’t have signalled more strongly that he had no issue with me whatsoever. Besides – she really was angelic. I carefully snuggled her against my chest, supporting her with both arms, while AJ motored off the way he came.

“That went well,” I murmured.

“AJ’s cool,” Innie agreed.

“Miggie won’t be.” Jesus didn’t look up from where he knelt, giving the dog belly scritches as it writhed in ecstasy on the warm pavers.

Oof. “You sure?” I took the opportunity to sit on the retaining wall that framed the patio.

“Uh huh.”

Innie said, “Did you talk to him?”

“No.”

Just then AJ returned, holding the hand of a small boy, followed by a petite woman with medium brown hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, and a school-age girl who looked a great deal like her. The woman immediately saw – and clearly approved – of the careful way I was holding her baby.

AJ made the introductions. “Lydia, this is my cousin Carmen. Carmen, this is my wife Lydia and my son Javi, and the curious girl who is staring at you so rudely – yes, I see you! – is Carolina, my eldest.”

Carolina was indeed staring, and she was undeterred by her father’s gentle warning. “You're the new cousin? The one who used to be a boy?”

Lydia looked mortified and opened her mouth to deliver a stinging reprimand, but I beat her to it. “Both yes and no, Carolina.” I was glad that, seated as I was, I was able to be pretty close to her level, and I kept my voice even and pleasant. “I’m not a new cousin, ’cuz I’m older than your padre. I’ve just been away. And I’ve always been a girl inside, but now I’m a girl on the outside, too.”

“Oh!” she said, before looking around. “Are there any popsicles?”

Innie shook her head. “Yeah, kid, of course there are popsicles. But you gotta clear it with your mom.”

Lydia said, “Not that you deserve a popsicle, but go ahead – your cousin will help you.”

“Popsicle?” Young Javi looked hopeful.

“Yeah, you too,” AJ said.

“C’mon, both of ya,” Innie invited. She took them indoors.

Lydia took the opportunity to sit beside me, while AJ wandered over to check out Uncle Augui’s new grill. “I can take her if you want – I know she gets heavy!”

I smiled. “Nope. You’ll have to pry her from my arms!”

She laughed. “Trust the voice of experience – you’ll change your mind in less than ten minutes. In this heat, maybe less than five.”

I looked down at the baby sleeping peacefully against my chest, molded so easily around a breast that I’d had to fight so hard for. My breasts were miracles of modern science, and I thanked God for them. I hoped I might be able to breastfeed someday, though even with medications it might not work. And more to the point, the circumstances seemed increasingly unlikely to present themselves. “I’ll be alright for now,” I said softly. “It’s not so bad, in the shade of the tree.”

Lydia didn’t respond, and I looked up to see her watching me, her eyes touched by pity. But we had only just met, so she said, “I’ll just set my stopwatch.”

Deciding I should change the subject, I lowered my voice and said, “I haven’t seen AJ in twelve years; I can’t believe how different he looks. And he seems so . . . I don’t know. Solid? Mature?”

“We had to grow up fast, when Carolina was born. AJ was twenty; I was still nineteen, if you can believe it. We were just bumming around, working odd jobs. But AJ . . . he just stepped up, you know?”

I felt a lump in my throat, thinking of my own father, but tamped down the feeling. “How did you meet?”

“We did the online dating thing.” She shrugged. “We’d both dated people in high school, but once you’re out, it’s not so easy to find people.”

“Were you at Central Valley?”

“No, I went to Stockdale. Graduated in ’15. And two years later, boom, I’m a mom, I’m married to this amazing guy, and suddenly we’re, like adults. Ready or not!”

Regina made a burbling noise and squiggled. Instinctively, I rubbed her back slowly, then kissed the crown of her head, marveling at how silky her hair was. “It sounds ideal. I can’t imagine it’s that perfect.”

She raised her voice slightly. “AJ? Is our life perfect?”

He looked over from where he was talking to Uncle Augui and grinned. “Your life, mi vida? I doubt it – you have to live with me! But my life is perfect!”

“He shoots – he scores!” I chuckled.

AJ clapped our uncle on the back, then came to join Lydia and me, taking a seat on her other side and leaning down to kiss her cheek. “It’s true, though. My life is perfect. The work’s been steady for years – even through COVID – and Lydia’s amazing. And – I know you won’t believe this – but I really love being a dad.”

“It’s a bit hard to square with the hellion I remember.”

“I’ll bet! But what have you been doing with yourself? I mean, apart from the obvious?”

I gave them a short and sanitized version of my story, while I rocked their baby gently. Other than saying I’d spent a couple years in LA trying to get my bearings, I said nothing about my time on the street or in the shelter.

AJ was nodding at the highlights. “You always had the brains, that’s for sure. School was so not my thing. It’s probably why I seemed so wild, back then. Studying all that mierda, when I knew I’d never use it for anything?”

“You like the work, though?”

“Love it. I do. We don’t have any slackers on our crew, and they’re all good weys. We’re friends.”

The slider opened and Innie walked out. “AJ, only you could find someone who would pay to babysit!”

“That’s just loco,” I said, addressing my playful response to Regina. “Everyone would pay to babysit you!”

“Two minutes with a baby, and her brain’s turned into corn mash.”

Carolina and Javi the (much!) Younger came out, both showing evidence of having consumed a popsicle in the not-to-distant past. Then Tia Juana came around the side of the house, leading Abuela.

There was a great deal of cross-talk, but I found myself checking out. It had been a long drive, and even in the shade the heat was a constant force. And, of course, the sleeping child was enough to put an entire Seal Team into a coma. I lowered my head and breathed in her fresh, clean, baby smell.

“I see my granddaughter has made another conquest.” Tia Juana plopped down beside me.

I smiled. “She has.”

“Are you ready for your hearing tomorrow?”

“There’s not much I can do to get ready. The investigator is supposed to email me his report today, so I’ll need to read that. But it hasn’t come in yet.”

“He’s sending it today? On a holiday? Are you sure he’s a lawyer?”

“He wanted to make sure that the judge had time to read it before the hearing, and, well . . . there was a bit of a delay.”

“Don’t tell me Maria’s still trying to cause trouble.”

I shook my head. “Not as far as I know, anyway.”

Regina hiccupped, then burped, then opened her eyes wide. Seeing a stranger where she expected to see her mother, she protested indignantly.

“I’m right here, you silly burrito,” Lydia said from my other side.

“Momma!”

I handed her back with regret, and Lydia and AJ took her inside. Turning back to my tia, I asked if Tio Javier was coming.

“No.” Correctly interpreting my expression, she said, “Don’t read anything into that; it isn’t about you. He’s just gotten grouchier as he’s gotten older. It’s hard for me to get him out of the house.”

“AJ looks just like him.”

“I call him Javi, half the time. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly it’s like I’m in my twenties again.”

“Good memories?”

“Oh for sure.” A smile flitted across her face, then faded. “Not all of them, of course. I was young, and insecure, and I don’t miss that part at all.”

Her admission surprised me; she’d always appeared to be the most grounded of my tias by a very wide margin, and the one who was most comfortable in her skin. “I can’t imagine you being insecure, tia!”

I expected a laugh, but I got a thoughtful expression instead. “Very much so. I knew there were plenty of girls who were prettier than me, and smarter.”

It was a commonplace observation, but coupled with her look . . . “You’re thinking about Momma, aren’t you?”

“Damn.” She sighed. “You’re what, thirty now?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Old enough, I guess. Your Momma wasn’t just pretty. I mean, Maria’s Lupe was prettier, when she was a girl. But Kathy was exotic, too. Blond and blue-eyed is pretty rare in our community, and bones like a sparrow – not like a good peasant! On top of that, she was smarter than all get out, and just . . . I don’t know. Magnetic. Whenever she walked into a room, every man’s eyes stuck to her, like flies caught in honey.”

Hating myself for asking, I said, “Did she . . . encourage it?”

“If you’d asked me twenty years ago, I’d have said ‘yes.’ Probably, ‘hell, yes.’ But now?” She shrugged. “I’m not so sure. I don’t even know if she could help herself. And besides . . . Maybe she was insecure, too? She wasn’t from our world, and suddenly she was in it up to her hairclip, and Juan was the only person here that she’d even met, until Fernando came home with his baby.”

I shook my head. “I’m having trouble following that.”

Surprisingly, she put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s where I think you are at a disadvantage, not having been raised as a girl. Sometimes, when women feel vulnerable, they work overtime to be charming. Does that make sense?”

I nodded. “I guess so, yeah. But that drove padre nuts, didn’t it?”

That got me a sharp look. “You knew about that?”

“I heard it recently, from a good source.”

“It’s true. And it got worse when he would drink. Which I’m sure is no shock to you.”

“No.”

“Their last blow-up was so bad, Juan went off to a cantina and drank himself under a table. Javi brought him to our place to sleep it off. I was angry with him – with both of them. I didn’t want the chavos to see their tio like that. I tried to talk with Juan the next day, before he went off to work, but he shut me down.”

Just then Ximo showed up, and I excused myself before calling out, “Hey, ’mano!”

He came over, his face all smiles

I smiled back as I rose, but inwardly I wept. Fuck. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.

“Hey, Carmen. ¿Qué onda?, tia Juana.”

Our aunt chuckled, seeing the two of us together. “Are you sure you’re related?”

“You don’t think we look alike?” Ximo joked.

“You look like your padre,” she told him. “Except stockier, like Javi. Carmen’s got your momma’s build – you could snap her in two!”

“Good idea!” He grinned brightly. “C’mere, ’mana!”

I smiled dutifully, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Can I grab you for a sec, Ximo?”

His own smile faded as he registered my tone. “Sure. S’up?”

I glanced down at tia Juana, who gave me a nod. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you later.”

I led Ximo out the gate at the end of the patio that led out onto the back street. When we got outside, I said, “something I need to tell you about, without screaming it to the whole fam. Let’s go ’round the block, okay?”

He nodded in agreement, but said, “I’m not gonna like this one either, am I?”

I just shook my head, and started walking west. Three doors down, I looked at a familiar backdoor and said, “I wonder if the Beltrans still live here?”

“Far as I know.” Ximo gave me a sideways look. “You’re stalling.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “You’re right. Look . . . the investigator managed to find contact information for Momma.”

He stopped dead. “You’re shitting me.”

“No,” I said, putting a hand on his arm and moving him forward. “Apparently Uncle Fernando had it, don’t ask me why. Anyhow . . . Kasparian thought the judge would postpone tomorrow’s hearing to give her time to weigh in on the conservator issue, unless he was able to reach her.”

He kept walking, looking stunned, then cleared his throat and husked out. “So . . . did he?”

“No. . . . I did.”

This time his stop was even more abrupt, and he pivoted to face me. “You . . . talked to Momma?”

At this point we were far enough away from Uncle Augui’s house that I wasn’t going to fight him. “Yeah. She’s living in Denver. Looks like she changed her name and married another guy, so she wanted to get me off the phone as quick as possible, and told me to lose her number.”

“I didn’t know she and padre got divorced.”

“They didn’t – unless it happened after I left, which doesn’t seem real likely.”

“So she’s . . . .” His brain finally caught up, and he shook his head. “Mierde.”

“Yeah. For whatever it’s worth, she did send Kasparian what he needs, so the hearing will go forward tomorrow after all.”

Unsurprisingly, that did nothing to lift the pain in Ximo’s eyes. “Did she say . . . anything? Anything at all?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. She tried to pretend I had the wrong number.”

His hands balled into fists and he clenched his teeth. “That pinche bitch!!!” With effort, he turned again and started walking, still heading west.

I kept pace and put a tentative arm around his waist, feeling considerable relief when he didn’t pull away. But I decided I’d said enough. We walked in silence for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts.

Or in my case, memories.

Padre frowned as he saw me slumped in front of the television. “Is your homework done?”

“I . . . I didn’t have any today,” I lied. I should have known better though. I DID know better. Padre and Abuela could always tell when I was lying. It’s like they had a built-in polygraph or something.

“Don’t give me that! You ALWAYS have homework. So why are you watching TV?” He stomped over, grabbed the remote, and shut it off.

“Sorry, padre!”

“Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it! Not for breaking the rules, and NOT for lying! What’s WRONG with you?”

I found myself tearing up, and trying desperately not to.

“No! No more of your snivelling!”

“Yes, padre!”

“Yes, padre, no, padre!” he mocked. “Tell me what this is all about! ¡Ahora!”

“It was chavos at school,” I said, miserable. “They said Momma must have left so she didn’t have to see my ugly face.”

“I told you I don’t want to hear her name in this house! What do you care why she left?”

I couldn’t hold in my rage anymore. “I HATE her! I HATE her!”

Before I could move, he had me over his knee and his palm hit my butt with a CRACK. “You will not say such a thing! Not EVER, ¿comprende?”

“But you said–”

“No!!! You will treat her memory with respect, understand?”

“But padre–”

Again, his calloused hand hit my butt, hard. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND???”

I screamed, “You’re messing with my head, padre!”

I grimaced at the memory. Messing with my head? Now, they both were. Lucky me.

We hit Willow Street and he turned right, then turned right again when we got to Milo, headed back toward the party.

He broke the silence first. “I just don’t understand how she could blow you off like that. Doesn’t she feel anything?”

“Maybe it’s not like that.”

“No?”

“It’s like I told Innie the other night,” I said, speaking slowly as I tried to sort out my own feelings. “When we were kids, I was a coward, ’cuz I had this big secret and I was scared shitless that someone would find out. Now Momma’s got a big secret, and she’s scared. She thinks I might blow up her nice little life, now that I’ve found her.”

“She wouldn’t think that, if she bothered to find out who you are!”

“Maybe. But I called her out of the blue and she panicked. She may still care.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well. She sure as fuck doesn’t care enough, does she?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Tell you what, though. Padre and Momma may be completely fucked up . . . but I’m glad I’ve got you, ’mano.”

His arm crossed mine, and he gave me a wordless squeeze.

We returned to the party, which at that point was in full swing. I was still enough of a novelty that people noticed I’d gone, and we got a couple of sharp looks. But no-one asked questions, and before long both Ximo and I were able to put our pain aside and pretend that nothing had happened.

While we’d been gone, tia Juana’s two youngest, Miggie and Joanne, had arrived. Jo was the youngest of my generation, and she’d only been eleven when I disappeared. Now she was funny and outgoing, with a round, pleasant face, and had a little boy of her own. It was hard to believe.

Miggie was surly, just as Jesus had predicted, but tia Juana didn’t give him room to get out of hand, and he didn’t stay long. Then Lupe showed up with her four chavos. Given Aunt Maria’s adamant opposition to including me in the family, I was shocked to see her.

Lupe shrugged it off. “I let them run my life when I was young, but I’m not a chava anymore. Besides – they’re too in love with their grandbabies to cut me off.”

I could believe that. Her chavos might be los cuatro demonios, but they were still awfully cute. The three boys were sturdy and boisterous, and Andrea, at four, already looked like she would be every bit as beautiful as her mother when she grew up.

I was getting another baby fix, this time with Andrea, when Ximo came and sat beside me on the retaining wall. “Good party.”

I looked at him closely. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked around, seeing the usual groups. The padres by the grill. The chavos running around, madres in pursuit. The tia’s inside, visible through the slider, chatting about something or other. “They all came. I wasn’t sure.”

I thought, Kelsey hasn’t. But I knew she was hurting after having to sweat momma’s email address out of her papi; I assumed she’d come later. Rather than bring up that worry, I said, “Me neither.”

“Momma . . . she should’ve been here, too.”

I thought back to the conversations I’d had, with Uncle Augui, señor Cortez, Innie, and just this afternoon, with tia Juana. All the things I’d learned — and all the things I knew from my own, painful experiences. “Maybe not.”

Ximo gave me a puzzled look. “Why do you say that?”

“She was an outsider, and she always would be. Wouldn’t have mattered how many years she lived here.”

— To be continued

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