Three Christmas Wishes - Krista Wolf Page 0,42

spoke of the family often, and not just in terms of the five of us. She always meant Argentina. The aunts and uncles, her nieces and nephews. The dozens upon dozens of cousins we’d left behind.

“Camila and Zoe are already excited for this,” said my father. “They can’t wait to see—”

“That’s easy for them to say,” I countered quickly, speaking of my two younger sisters. “They still live with you. They’re not independent, like I am.”

“Valerio,” my mother said. “Listen—”

“Their lives are tied to the both of you,” I interrupted. “They’re not bound to America.”

When I’d arrived at my parent’s house a little earlier, something had seemed off from the beginning. Now that I took a look around, I could see what it was.

“Oh my God you’re already packing.”

The many tchotchkes that littered every shelf and every available piece of counter-space were all gone. It was the same for some of the picture frames. The house seemed… emptier, less cluttered. Even though it was still full.

I dropped my head into my hands and shook my head. “Holy shit.”

“VALERIO!” my mother snarled. She wagged a finger my way. “No cussing!”

“Couldn’t we have at least talked about this?” I asked, completely ignoring her admonishment. “I mean, there are other jobs you could pick up. Other things you could do.”

My last statements were directed at my father, who only lowered his gaze. I wasn’t sure what happened at the software company he worked for, or what he even did there. His work was extremely technical. Totally confusing to me.

But he’d always provided a life for us. A good life. For that, I had nothing but pride for him.

“Dad…”

“Valerio I’m sorry,” my old man said. “This is best for all of us. Your sisters need to grow up with their cousins, the way you did when you were younger.”

“They’re almost twenty,” I shot back. “They’re already grown up!”

“All the more reason they need family in their lives,” said my mother.

“But they have family!” I cried. “They have us!”

I was getting angry now, almost irate. I could see my mother’s shoulders hunch up in defense. Her scowl deepened.

“Look I mean no disrespect,” I said, “but you moved us up here when I was young. I grew up here.”

“Not in the winter,” my father pointed out. “You’ve spent almost every winter of your life back in Cordoba, or Trancoso. Months at a time, actually”

“Yes, but this place is what I know,” I countered. “My friends are all here. It’s what I love.”

“You love your cousins,” said my mother. “You love being home.”

“This is my home,” I shot back, pointing to the floor. “Not Cordoba.”

My mother recoiled and made a face, like I’d just cursed again. I didn’t know if she assumed I’d go along with them unquestioningly, or if they could just easily convince me that I somehow ‘belonged’ in Argentina with them. The whole thing was unbelievable to me either way.

“Consider it carefully,” my father said at last. “You’ll have a home with us down there. All of us. There’s heritage to think about. Blood. Tradition.”

“And opportunity,” my mother added. “Tio Nacio will take you on, teach you his trade. We’ve already spoken with him. He’s agreed to—”

“My uncle’s a butcher,” I cut in.

“Yes.”

“But I don’t want to be a butcher.”

“Valerio,” my father said placatingly, “it’s an honest—”

“Not only do I not want to be a butcher,” I growled, “but I don’t want to move back ‘home’ with you either. Argentina may be my birthplace, but it’s not my home. Not anymore. Not after you brought me here fifteen long years ago, and raised me in America.”

I stormed out, before I could dwell on the pain I saw in my father’s eyes. Neither of them called after me. They were wise enough to let me go.

Cordoba.

It was a wonderful place. A fun place, filled with laughter and beauty and all kinds of amazing memories spent running around with my cousins, enjoying our youth.

But it wasn’t the same for me as it was for my parents. And it never would be.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up without looking. Brock’s voice came through, loud and clear:

“In for steaks?”

I smiled, even as my stomach rumbled. Fuck yeah I was in for steaks.

“Our girl’s out tonight,” he continued, “finishing her projects. So it’s just the three of us.”

Family. The word had taken on all new meaning for me here in America. It was a much different meaning than my parents had for the word, and that’s because