Page 31 of Shadowed Obsession

“¿Qué?We never had a sloth,” she says, her brows crinkling as she sits up on her knees to peer down at me.

She lets out a surprised gasp when she spots that I’m actually looking at my sister as a toddler. I burst into laughter when she snatches the photo from my hand, pressing her lips together to avoid smirking, and resumes her search.

After I settle down, I lean toward Mari as if I have a secret to share.

“I must be overdue for an eye exam, because that wasn’t a sloth, it was you,” I taunt.

She glares at me and continues flipping through stacks of family photos.

“Found them,”Mamiexclaims.

She scoots in closer and shares baby pictures of Mariana and me, proving that she was indeed an abnormally large infant and reminding me of the Sesame Street obsession I had as a kid. A photo circulating of me surrounded by at least fifteen different stuffed Elmos is a nightmare of mine. My friends would never let me live it down.

I offer to put everything away while they joinAbuelain the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. I place the lids back on the boxes, setting aside the stacks of photosMamiwanted to hold on to.

My dad returns with shopping bags in hand and meets me at the foot of the stairs, handing them to me.

“I went to two different stores for these,” he grumbles.

My eyes scan the bag before I set it on the kitchen counter, and I scrunch my face at the amount of peppers inside and back away.

Not my business. I’m gonna letMamideal with that.

She immediately peeks into the bag and shakes her head in disbelief.“¡Isidro! ¿Qué es esto?”

“¡No me importa!” He shouts his response as he steps into the kitchen, waving his hands. “Freeze the extra so I don’t have to go back.”

His arms wrap around her, and he presses a loud kiss on the top of head and whispers something in her ear. She rolls her eyes playfully and starts washing off the peppers in the sink.

This dinner was just what I needed after this week. I always feel recharged after spending time with my family. Mariana kept her word and didn’t mention the shooting toMami, or I would’ve been asked about it all night long.

After everyone is finished eating, I volunteer to do the dishes as usual. I circle the dining table, stacking the plates and utensils atop one another, and tread into the kitchen when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Before I can dry my hands to peek at it, I hear footsteps approaching, followed by Mariana calling out for me in a sing-songy voice.

“Chukiii.”

I glance over my shoulder to find her filling a plate with leftovers to take home. “Grab a plate for me, please?”

She nods and retrieves another plate from the cabinet, setting it aside. Once her plate is full, she disappears into the pantry, returning with a roll of aluminum foil in hand.

“I was about to tell you to bring a lot of food back. Don’t need to be worrying about you starving through those clinicals.”

She stares incredulously at me and says, “Abuelais the one you have to scold for missing meals, not me,” she says rubbingher soft tummy. “I can’t get shit done on an empty stomach. Even if I am seeing things every day that make me queasy.”

“How are you feeling now that it’s almost over?” I ask, looking over at her as I try to decide whether to check my phone or not. Better not, I tell myself, returning to scrubbing the dishes.

“Relieved and nervous. I’m happy to be graduating, but I still have to pass my board exam before I can start looking for work,” she laments, a struggle I can empathize with.

“Ugh, boards. I had to do one to be a PI. Hated it, but I passed, and you will, too. Thankfully, you’re a far better student than I was. More expensive, too.”

“Yeah, because Google university isn’t my only source for information,” she teases.

“Hey, at least I look shit up before I ask stupid questions,” I retort with a chuckle.

“I’ll give you that. You’re still a dummy, though.” She pauses. “Seriously though, I wouldn’t be graduating if it weren’t for you. Thanks for taking a chance on me.” Her voice wavers with emotion, but I can’t handle that shit right now.

“Don’t mention it. Whether you wanted to be a physician’s assistant or a clown, you’d have my support. Plus, I won’t have to go to the ER ever again because of you,” I joke, lightening the mood.

“Speaking of, how are things going with that girlfriend of yours?”

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