mastered, but she was doing her best.
Mamá didn’t notice his smile, though, her attention on the obviously distraught Carla. “Is okay,” she crooned, patting Carla on the arm. “My husband’s brother…he not a good guy. Do not think about him no more.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Carla said, pulling away from Christian and wiping her eyes. “Lo siento,” she added for his mamá’s benefit.
Look at that. All of those months of working with Duolingo is starting to pay off.
“I just seem to be more…emotional than usual.” She shot a pleading look at Christian, and he knew what her problem was. Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be their big announcement, when they told everyone the happy news.
Fist fights do tend to put a damper on parties…
Christian hesitated, torn on what to do. He knew his mother would be delighted to hear the good news, but also knew she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. If he told her, half the people at the party would know within five minutes, but that was only because the other half would’ve found out within two.
Before he could decide if they should move forward with their announcement or not – save this party somehow – Tío Nicolás came stumbling back out of the house.
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
Nicolás’ hair was wet and in his hand was a cup of coffee instead of a beer can, but he otherwise looked exactly the same.
Not a bit more sober.
“Hermanito,” his dad said consolingly, coming up from behind, wrapping his arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders. “Volvamos adentro.”
Carla looked up at him, clearly not understanding that last part. “Let’s go back inside,” Christian translated in a whisper in her ear. “Honestly, when my uncle’s this far gone, he usually passes out. If my dad can just get him into the house and into a bed…”
But Tío Nicolás shrugged his brother’s arm off his shoulders. “Niño estúpido,” he spat at Christian. His eyes flicked back and forth between Carla and Christian, and in that moment, Christian was sure that his tío would’ve attacked Carla if they’d been alone together. His blood rain ice-cold in his veins at the realization. “Enamorarse de una mujer blanca. Tú no eres mi sobrino.”
Stupid kid. Falling for a white woman. You are no nephew of mine.
Christian shook his head like a boxer after too many rounds in the boxing ring. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real.
His uncle had always been an asshole of the first degree, sure, and he’d always talked about that woman who’d killed his family, who’d taken everything away from him, but somehow, Christian had missed the fact that his uncle hated all white women.
Was this new? Or had he just ignored all of the signs?
A strangled yip fell from Carla’s lips and Christian realized in a vague sort of way that he was the cause of it. He’d wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and then had squeezed, anger blocking everything else out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to…” He stroked his fingers over the bruised area, promising to himself that he’d kiss every one of those bruises better. Later.
Right now, he just had to face down his uncle. He looked at the wavering, stumbling man on his parent’s front porch and said calmly, “No eres tío mío.”
You are no uncle of mine.
The whole crowd gasped, and Christian felt the back of his neck grow hot. For a moment, he’d forgotten they had an audience. He wanted to punch his tío again just for this.
The gossip about tonight would go on for years to come. No one spoke to their elders this way.
No one disowned their own family.
But if Christian had to choose between Carla or Tío Nicolás? He’d choose Carla every time.
Christian’s denunciation took a moment to register and work their way through Nicolás’ alcohol-pickled brain, but finally, he realized that Christian’d thrown his words right back in his face.
He slurred out a few nasty Spanish swear words – language that would normally have his mother up in arms and yelling but in that moment, she seemed just as frozen as everyone else – and then with what he probably thought was grace and dignity, he pivoted on his boot, almost slamming into the side of the house, and barely made it through the front door, Papá swinging the door out of the way at just the last moment.
A silence fell over the crowd then. Even the barking dogs that normally kept up