Page 4 of Lost & Found

“Hollis Marie Mendoza!” I cringe as I jump out of my bed. Being called by my full, government name isn’t fun at all. And at the age of twenty-five, you’d think that maybe she’d give up on treating me like a child. But I guess I live under her roof, so I have to follow her rules.

I pad down the steps and into the dining room where Daddy already sits at one end of the too-long-for-three-people dining table while Mom starts serving our plates.

It’s only the three of us. I always thought being an only child was a dream come true, because it meant I could be the center of attention. Then I realized I also had to do everything my mom asked me to do, and I had to do it with a smile or get disciplined. So, I kind of grew out of not wanting siblings, if only so my mom could evenly dish out her aggression.

As I pull out my chair, I look over to my dad who is all smiles and cheer as he watches my mom move about the table dishing out mashed potatoes, green beans, mac n cheese, and Daddy’s favorite green chili, which she wanted to learn how to make just for him. And don’t tell her, but she doesn’t do it nearly as well as Abuelita. Daddy’s mom made the best green chili. Too bad her and my mom never got along because my mom could have really used her tips.

“Mija, sit down.” My dad signals me to hurry up and sit. “Dinner looks good,” he says to my mom who smiles sweetly at him.

“It does, Mom. But thanksgiving is like two months away, what’s with the big spread?” I attempt to joke butholy, if looks could kill.

“Your father got a promotion at work. We’re celebrating.” She scoops some macaroni onto my plate, almost like that of a sloppy lunch lady scoop. Imagine Trunchbull but with the smile and demeanor of Miss Honey.

“You did, Daddy? Congrats,” I say as I lean out of my chair and reach over to give him a kiss on his cheek.

His big brown eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles and smooths the napkin over his lap. I take mental note that I’m glad I got my dad’s darker features instead of my mom’s. Though my mom is absolutely stunning with her natural blonde hair and bright green eyes, it’s not a look I wanted to try to have to compete against. Again, people pleaser. I feel as though I’d let my mom down if I didn’t pull off her lighter features as well as she does, so I praise my dad for giving me his dark brown eyes and nearly black hair.

I sit at the table with my ripped black jeans, a cropped Selena t-shirt, a nose piercing, tattoos up and down my arms, and deep red lipstick. Meanwhile, my mom serves us dinner in her fitted-but-not-too-tight, red mock neck dress and sleek black pumps and my dad sports one of his Armani suits. See what I mean?

I remember in high school my mom called me anemo-queen–whatever the hell that means–and said it was only a phase and I’d get over it soon. Well, guess what mom? Is it a phase still?

“Hollis, could you possibly have put on something nicer for dinner?” My mom shoots me an evil glare before finally sitting down in her own chair across from me.

“Yeah, mom. Had I known we were celebrating something big, I’d maybe throw on a pair of black jeans with less holes,” I tell her sarcastically. Sometimes, my mom's and mine arguments aren't anything more than just small bickering. I know she's not trying to be a bitch and I know I can talk back to her without her taking it too seriously, but I also know that she really did expect someone other than what she got for a daughter.

I know she loves me though. It's different with us.

I don’t miss the eye roll she manages as Daddy reaches for her hand and squeezes gently.

“She’s fine, Cariño.” And that's when I see my mom relax entirely at the sound of his voice. It’s magic really. How someone so pent up and aggressive—minorly so—can unwind at the smallest sound or touch.

I’ve never felt true neglect or refusal from my mom, or either of my parents actually. But she can be wound up like a fucking cymbal-banging monkey sometimes and I just happen to receive the brunt of it.“Because I love you and I want you to be successful, Hollis. I only want what’s best for you,” she’d say. But it’s easier said than done. Because as much as she wants me to grow up like her, under a strict household and fully knowing what one wants in life, I don’t have any of that shit figured out. And if anything, it’s only made me more curious in the rebelling department and less eager to figure out my life. Downside to that, I still live at home.

“Well, congrats, Daddy,” I tell him before pouring a small spoonful of my mom’s wanna-be Abuelita’s green chili over my chicken and mashed potatoes.

I pull a bit of the chicken into my mouth and begin to chew when my mom decides to drop a bomb on me.

“So, I heard Jaxon is back in town.”

I choke on my food and start coughing incessantly. My dad gives my mom crazy eyes before they both look at me like I’m a fish out of water.

“Are you okay?” my dad asks.

I swallow down my food before I wipe my face with the napkin.

Jaxon.I haven’t heard that name in forever, but only because I chose to forget.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s great.”

“Delanie told me a few days ago that he was coming back home for a bit.” My mom takes a bite of her food while I try to gather my wits about me.

Delanie is Jaxon’s mother. Her and my mom are still the best of friends. And even better, she still lives right across the street from us.

When Jaxon left to go live with his dad, my whole world changed, believe or not. It was like a piece of me left with him and I never really got it back. I tried desperately to forget about the last time I saw him all together. That day ruined me.

“Did Delanie say where he would be staying?” I try to swallow the lump in my throat. If she says Jaxon is moving in with his mom, I’m going to lose it. One would think that I’d be happy that my old best friend would be moving back home. But really, I’m not excited. Jaxon left me heartbroken, and I don’t really know if I’m ready to face him yet. Or ever.

Though I will admit, I start wondering how he’s been. What he’s been up to. And why he’s coming back. God, I hope this doesn’t make things worse.

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