“I will be.” He’s looking down at his notebook and clicking his pen like he’d rather do homework than talk about this. But I’m happy he’s not lying and saying he’s great. He will be okay.
“Can we talk about you and Bo now?” he asks. I know he’s deflecting again, but I don’t want to keep prying and push him away. He’ll talk to me about it when he’s ready.
“I’m gonna ask her out.”
He whips his head around like an owl and almost falls out of his chair.
“When? How? Can I watch?”
“Oh my God, calm down!” I laugh. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I need your help.”
He adjusts himself to face me so he’s sitting backward in the chair. “You’re the one all smitten and shit. What does she like?”
“Um . . .” I’m drawing a blank. She likes art, disco, and free samples from Costco. She likes ice cream. She likes . . . oh!
“That’s perfect! Thanks!”
“You’re welcome?” he says, and I go back to my room to formulate a plan.
I’m going to ask Bo to prom. And I know exactly how to do it.
25
Si Te Hago Da?o A Ti, Me Hago Da?o a Mí Mismo.
Just when I’m about to start getting ready for bed, I overhear my mom crying from her room. She’s never been one to cry quietly, but it’s still louder than usual. I step out of my room to find that Cesar had the same idea. We share a look that’s telepathic code for Do you know what’s wrong? and we both shrug. We wander down the hall to her room to cheer her up, but when I open the door, I immediately regret coming here with Cesar.
“He could have died, do you understand? And you won’t even talk to him?!” Mami screams at her phone.
Cesar stops in his tracks. His chin quivers, and I can’t bear to look at the pain in his eyes. He must have been in denial about Dad, like I was for the first couple of months he wasn’t talking to me.
“Let me talk to him,” I say, and march over to the side of my mom’s bed.
“Face the consequences of your actions,” Mami’s voice comes out in a sob as she hands me her phone.
I stare deadpan at the phone as the words pour out of me. “You’re out of our life for good. And that’s my choice, not yours. What kind of asshole calls himself an activist but then won’t speak to his own children when push comes to shove? We’re better off without you, you pinche comemierda!”
Instead of lecturing me for cursing, Mami gets out of bed and stands next to me and starts cursing him out with me. “Fuck you, Emiliano! These kids are perfect and they don’t need you for one second! I’ll love them for the both of us, you pinche—”
She keeps yelling, but Cesar comes up behind us and butts in. “Yeah, fuck you, you ugly piece of shit! WE disown YOU, you got that? You’re dead to ME!” he shouts, spit flying out of his mouth as he points to the phone as if Dad could see his taunts.
And we all go on like that for a solid minute, the three of us chewing him out at the same time in true Mexican fashion. It takes me a while to realize he’s already hung up. Who knows how much of our yelling he actually heard, but it felt good to say it all out loud.
I drop my arm holding the phone to let Mami and Cesar know he’s not listening anymore. Then I pull them both into a hug, and we all sink into it like it’s the only thing keeping us from crumpling to the floor.
“I love you guys,” Cesar says through a sniffle.
Mami holds us both tight.
I hug back harder. “I love you so much.”