“I work behind a screen all day. Got to get some exercise to make sure I keep my mind sharp, and yes, my body fit. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab some tostones,” I say as I try to side step around her.
“Oh don’t be silly, I’ll join you. Although I can’t have any of the food here really. I try to make an effort to keep my body nice and… tight.” She winks.
Seems like my shadow has won this round. I make it to the kitchen island and try to make small talk with Dr. Ortega about the new Dominican players on the Yankees’ team, hoping this topic will help me fend off Priscilla. But no such luck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Amelia heading down the hallway to the guest bedroom. I’m assuming she’s going to use the ensuite bathroom, so I excuse myself from my conversation and head in her direction. Clearly stating that I need to use the restroom after eating too many tostones. Hopefully the idea of me having to take a shit will give Priscilla the hint to give me a five minute break.
When I reach the doorway to the bedroom, I spot Amelia fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. I enter the room and close the door behind me, and she nearly jumps out of her skin.
“What are you doing in here? I’m clearly using the bathroom. You can’t just walk in on people like that you know?” she whispers nervously.
I arch my eyebrow and make my way towards her. “Are we really going to talk about being appropriate with one another? Because last I checked, we crossed that line last night. Speaking of which …”
I put my hand in my front jean pocket and with my index finger pulled out the lacy fabric and let it hang in the air between us. Before I can say a word, she snatches her thong out of my hand.
“Are you fucking insane?! What are you doing with that thing, and here of all places?!” She takes the thong and throws it over the shower curtain into the bathtub.
“Hey!” I chastise playfully. “I thought that was a gift. I just brought it back to make sure you weren’t still wandering the streets of New York commando.” I give her a menacing grin.
“What do you want Evan? Huh. An apology? AnI’m sorry for stripping down, giving you a boner and then leaving you my underwear in the morning? Well tough shit, because you aren’t getting one from me!” she fumes as she starts to make her exit. Once she makes it to the bedroom door, she pauses, takes a few breaths, then turns and gives me a look that would make any guy go weak in the knees, me included.
“And for your information, you were right to return my underwear to me, because I’m still not wearing any.” And with that she leaves, taking along with her my sanity.
18
Amelia
The nerve of that man.
Bringing my unmentionables to my father’s home. I mean sure, I kind of started this little raunchy war, but I didn’t think he would continue it! And of course I’m wearing underwear, but I wasn’t gonna walk out of that room letting him feel like he won that round with me.
Deep breaths. Sing happy birthday, cut the cake, and we’re in the clear. Nikki and I will be taking a few bottles of whatever wasn’t opened tonight and catching up on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Just the thought of booze and Bravo eases my soul. I make it back into the living room and announce that it’s time to cut the cake.
“Espérate mija,” my dad calls out. “I was actually thinking we could watch a few minutes of one of our old home videos. Maybe a Christmas one,” he says.
The room grows silent.
My dad sighs heavily. “Mira, I appreciate you all coming here to celebrate my birthday, and for taking me on a trip next week, gracias familia. Pero I want you guys to know that we don’t have to pretend like I didn’t lose Anna. We all lost her. And I don’t know what birthdays or holidays will feel like, now that she’s not here, but I don’t want to act like she still isn’t a part of this family,” he declares.
“Papi, of course. That’s actually a great idea. Why don’t we pick one from the early 2000’s or something? That way you can laugh at how we all looked during our awkward prepubescent stages,” I suggest.
Antonio shouts, “Don’t pick the years that I had braces!”
“Or the years when I didn’t have boobs!” Priscilla squeals.
Classy.
“Ok then, I’m going to pick a random home video without looking at the date, so no complaints,” I say.
“Coño Ramón. You still have those videos on VCR? En serio?” Tío Francisco chuckles.
“You know I don't know much about technology and converting these things.” He shrugs.
“Ok everyone, here we go. Don’t know if we have to rewind or not, so I’m just going to play it from wherever it’s paused,” I caution as I step away and take a seat next to my dad on the couch.
Christmas of 2003. Of course the first scene is eleven-year-old me obnoxiously saying hello to my dad recording behind the camera with the biggest gap between my two front teeth. My parents should have started me on braces sooner, damnit.
My constant badgering for camera time makes everyone laugh, and I don’t dare look in Evan’s direction as he’s leaning against the wall that opens up to the living room.
