a city with no public transportation. She loved driving.
“Okay, if you think you’re good, I’ll stay. I have no desire to go to the meat market and fight people for the last pernil in the store.”
My mother actually hiked up her jeans at the mention of the last pork shoulder in the store and the potential scuffle. “No te preocupes, Julia. We’ll come home with that pernil.” Like I was worried about my Dominican mother and grandmother losing a fight over the last piece of pork before a major holiday. I was concerned for everyone else in the Dallas area trying to take it from them though.
“I know you will, Mami.”
My dad called out from the bathroom where he was arranging their toiletries. “Don’t get into a fight over there, mi vida. Just get a couple of chickens, we’ll survive. Being together is what matters.”
My mother rolled her eyes and left without answering.
After I went to the guest room to change out of my work clothes, I came back to find my dad in the living room watching ESPN.
“So, tell me the real story with you and Rocco.”
I chuckled in defeat as I sat next to him on the couch. He ran his hand over my thick mass of curls. “I’m glad you got my hair, so at least I can remember what it looked like.”
I laughed at that and gave him another hug. It was good to have my family here, and also so weird for them to be in my space. When I lived in New York, I was always going to them. Living in a tiny apartment with a roommate was not exactly the best situation to receive guests, and home had always been their house. But this place felt mine.
“Nothing’s happening. Rocco’s nice. So are all the exiles, to be honest.”
“Are you really thinking of coming home at some point or is that something you’re telling your mom to appease her?”
This was the part of the conversation when my dad transformed into “we’re about to process your shit” social worker mode.
I lifted a shoulder, unsure of how to proceed in the conversation. I didn’t want my dad to think I didn’t want to come home because of any other reason than I felt like I needed to make my own way. “I just don’t want you guys to think I don’t love being close to you.”
He put his arms around me and tugged on one of the curls on top of my head. “Julia del Mar, why would you say that? We know that. But you know what I love? Seeing you talk about a job you’re passionate about and building community out here, baby. Our people take chances, we cross oceans to go after what we want. Having to get on a plane and fly across a few states to see you isn’t the end of the world.”
I looked down at my feet, still unable to fully shake the embarrassment I felt when I thought about how I ended up here. “I came here running after Matt, and like an idiot got dumped within weeks. I hate the idea of being stuck in a situation because I let some asshole uproot me from my life while the whole time he was cheating on me.” My father made a very unkind sound at the mention of Matt, which was as pissed off as he ever got. But it did help a little in making me feel less like a loser. “I just want to prove to myself that this wasn’t just about him.”
“But you’re not trapped, mija, you’re in control.” He waved his hand around my apartment. Pointed at the full bookshelves, the art on the walls. “Matt didn’t do any of this, you did. He didn’t get you the job. He didn’t find friends for you.”
“No, but—” I didn’t even know what I was going to argue with him about.
He shook his head and smiled at me. “You’re a fighter like your viejo and your mom. You do what feels good for you, for your life. If you’re happy, we’re happy.”
That was what I needed to hear.
The blessing I was hoping for, to let me know this was okay. That I wasn’t just delaying the inevitable or fooling myself in thinking I could make it out here on my own. Which only made the feelings I was slowly developing for Rocco that much more of a bitch.