“¡Hola, princesita!” His deep baritone voice greets me. “¿Cómo estas?”
“Hi, Papá. I’m good!”
Mami’s voice sounds in the background, telling my father about me attending a soccer game.
“Is that right?” he exclaims. “How was it?”
“It was fun! Our team won. You would have enjoyed it. Maybe if you guys come up before the season ends, we can go to one together,” I offer, knowing they won’t.
“Or you could come home and watch your brothers,” Papá barters.
I groan. If they’re not hounding me about dating, they’re constantly asking me to come home. They’ve only been to North Carolina once, and that was when I moved here from Texas. I’ve been home half a dozen times since then. Apparently, the whole “broke college kid thing” doesn’t register with them. I have to be the one to travel—always.
“Papá, we’ve talked about this. I can’t be the only one to make the trip. I’ve been here for over a year already, and you haven’t cometo visit since I moved here.” I’m not trying to guilt them; I just want them to realize this is a two-way street.
“You’re right. It’s just so hard to take the time off right now. And your sisters can’t miss school.” He gives the same excuses every time.
“I know. It’s fine,” I say quickly. “Listen, I just got home and I need to finish up some homework. I have to open tomorrow at the store and then have class right after. Kiss Mamá for me and have her kiss you back.”
“Happy to oblige,” he teases.
“Gross,” I say just to be a brat. “Okay, love you both! Adiós.”
“Te amo, mija. Adiós.”
Ending the call with my parents, I place my phone on the charger and flop down into my favorite cozy chair. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and blow out a deep breath. I know my parents love me as much as my siblings, but being the middle child comes with some unique challenges. For a long time, I was the youngest—and the only girl—so I was constantly doted on by my parents and brothers. I don’t begrudge my sisters at all. It’s not their fault. But once they arrived, I was either ignored or used as a babysitter. I never minded watching them. They were fun, and I was the first person to make them laugh—a fact I enjoy reminding the rest of my family of.
Once I started high school, my parents put immense pressure on me to get good grades so I could go to college. They wanted me to secure a degree in I.T., knowing that it would offer the most lucrative positions. I’m good with computers, but I don’t love it. My passions consist of salsa dancing and makeup application. I love creating new looks and finding the best blend of colors for different skin tones. Norah’s asked me more than once to do makeup for the Drama Department, but I always turn her down, hearing my parents’ voices in my head keep telling me I’m wasting my time. So I continue to pursue my degree while working at a grocery store.
Feeling frustrated with my parents and with myself for letting their words get to me, I stand from my chair to turn on my favorite salsa playlist. I could easily eat my feelings, but my body needs to expel some negative energy. Pushing my coffee table out of the way, I hit play before getting into position. Once the song starts, I step backward with my right foot and lose myself tothe music. Swaying my hips and letting the music flow through my arms, I release all of my frustrations. Dancing has been my outlet since I was a little girl. Mamá would salsa while holding me on her hip as a baby, so the steps have been ingrained since the beginning. I could probably do it in my sleep. I dance until my mind is clear and my shoulders are weightless.
* * *
After I finished my Monday classes, I headed straight to work. It was surprisingly busy, so my shift flew by. Normally, I’d rush home and stay there, distancing myself from people, but I’m feeling particularly social, so I call Norah.
“Hey, Lay Lay! What are you doing?” Norah answers, her voice full of excitement.
I scrunch my nose at the nickname. “Lay Lay? Really? Am I five?”
“What?” she asks. “I thought ‘Hey, Lay’ sounded too weird. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What’s up?”
“I just got off work and was bored. Thought I’d come to see you if you’re free,” I hedge.
“Actually,” she says. “I’m headed to the soccer field to wait for Eamon. They have practice for a couple of hours. Want to join?”
“Oh, uh…” That wasn’t really what I had in mind when I called her.
“Teagan will be there…,” Norah singsongs, and just as I perk up, I realize what she’s up to.
“You’re the devil. You know that, right?”
“I’d like to think I’m more angelic, bestowing blessings upon my friends. I’ll see you soon! Kisses!” She hangs up before I can say another word.
* * *
Well, now that I’m here, I wish I’d been doing this for my entire college career. A group of sweaty soccer players running around is the most tantalizing thing I’ve ever seen. There’s no denying that they all look good, but I can’ttake my eyes off Teagan. He’s in the goalie’s net, gloves on, crouched down, and waiting for one of his teammates to attempt to get the ball past him. His jaw is set with determination as he tracks Eamon and Rowan’s movements on the field.
“Did you know that soccer players run an average of seven miles every game?” Norah asks suddenly, interrupting my ogling.
