Page 128 of Falling

As a kid,thatwas always my favorite part. Maybe it was an ego thing, but it was the part I remembered the most when I went to sleep that night. Every year before I moved out, my mom would tuck me in and ask what the best part of the day was. It was those little things that made me appreciate my family even more.

When I get to my parents’ house, as expected, the lawn is littered with neighbors, distant families, half-naked kids running up and down, and babies passed out in strollers. One of my older cousins is working the barbecue, powering through even though it’s not quite spring yet.

Kids run and scream on the front lawn, chasing each other with sticks. Old R&B songs blast from speakers through the windows as I walk through the lawn, stupidly carrying a bouquet of flowers and a card.

The first person to spot me is my mom’s sister Whitney. She’s a few years younger than my mom, but she has almost a hundred kids and hasn’t aged a day since I was born. She’s a short, tanned woman with a sleeve of tattoos on her right arm, making her by far my coolest relative.

“Ay, Miles, you’re almost as tall as the doorframe,” she exclaims, squeezing me into a suffocating hug around my middle.

“It’s good to see you too, Auntie,” I say when I’m free. She squeezes my cheek with her thumb and forefinger, turning my face at ridiculous angles. “Do you know where my parents are?”

“Yes, they’re through there,” she sighs, pointing down toward the living room. “They’re speaking to an older couple. It looks kind of private.”

“An older couple?” I ask.

“Yes, I’ve seen them around here a few times. They are all speaking Spanish, if that rings a bell,” she explains before rushing past me to save one of her boys from burning themselves on the barbecue.

I don’t have to ask anything else because I know who they are.

Carter’s parents are here.

Before I was born, my parents became close friends with Elenaand Mateo Reyes since they lived next door and Ethan is around the same age as Clara. Growing up around them, they taught me and my family how to speak Spanish, and it’s become useful in so much of my everyday life. Even though they’re both fluent in English, Carter’s parents wouldn’t let me into their house unless I greeted them in Spanish.

I’ve hardly seen them since Carter died. I saw them regularly the first couple of weeks, but it got harder for all of us for me to always be in their house. I was best friends with their son; I can only imagine how hard it must have been to look at me and miss the child you had. I tried to keep in contact with them as much as I could, but we lost touch a few weeks after the funeral.

I walk into the kitchen to keep my distance while they talk. I know my parents have been checking up on them regularly, but I have no idea why they’d choose today to have a private conversation.

I scan the fridge to find something to eat, but it’s filled with uncooked seasoned chicken and cold mac and cheese stocked in containers. I look through the cupboards and grab a packet of Cheetos to snack on while I wait. I could go out and greet my thousands of cousins, but they’re too chaotic for me right now. I already checked that Bryan, my favorite cousin, who’s my age, couldn’t make it from LA today, so there’s no point talking to all the little kids.

“Miles?” I turn around to see Mrs. Reyes, and my heart drops.

I try to swallow my chip as she looks at me, scanning my black jeans and hoodie. She inches closer toward me, her hands shaking a little as they come to rest on my arms.

Es bueno verte, Tía, I say, my Spanish sounding so strange on my tongue.

Tú también. “Ay, you’ve got so big.” She tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are you,amor?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Good. That’s good,” she replies, her eyes drifting away from me. “Are you still playing hockey?”

“Si.We’re hoping to win the championship,” I say softly.

“That’s good,” she says again. “That’s good.” I wiggle out of her grip a little to place my hands on her arms, trying to steady her.

“¿Estás bien, tía?” I ask softly. She nods slowly and opens and closes her mouth. As she takes a sharp inhale, Mr. Reyes comes around the corner. He notices what’s happening and shakes his head gently. “It’s good to see you,tío.”

“You too, Miles,” he says, walking toward us. He puts an arm around Elena and mumbles something in Spanish to her. Her eyes don’t move as if she hasn’t even registered whatever he just whispered. “We better get going. It’s getting late.”

Mr. Reyes nods at me, and they walk out of the kitchen, leaving me confused. The sun is still up, but I don’t say anything to stop them. I haven’t known how to act around them since Carter died, and I don’t know when it’s going to get better for them.

My parents walk around the corner into the kitchen, and when they see me, they act as if I’ve not seen them in years. I haven’t been around here since Christmas Eve, but we’ve spoken on the phone. Although the conversations were short, the communication has been better than it was a few months ago. They both embrace me in a hug at the same time, my dad practically crushing me.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” I say, reaching over to pick up the flowers I got her. She looks down at them and then at me with a grateful smile.

“Aw, thank you, Miles,” she replies. My dad winks at me from behind her before sauntering off to contain the raging party behind us.

“It’s no problem. Are you having a good day so far?” I ask, shifting from one foot to the other.

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