Page 3 of Merry Little Mishap

“You ok?”

“Yes… it’s just… the damn part I brought doesn’t work.”

“Again?”

“I’m so sorry, Elena.” Nick lifted himself from the sink. “These pre-war buildings have some strange characteristics, and the plumbing is old as hell.” He took the mug from my hand, taking a long sip of his coffee. I didn’t mention I already drank from it and felt kinda guilty, but the way his broad shoulders dropped in relaxation was so rewarding. “I think I know what I need, but it will be about a week until it gets in. I was able to fix the leak, but it’s only temporary.”

He smiled.

I smiled back.

Everything grew quiet as I brushed my hair off to the side, twisting its ends with my red-painted nails. Nick tapped his mug before taking the last sip of coffee.

“Did you enjoy it?” I asked, desiring his praise.

“It hit the spot. Always does.”

“If you liked that, then you’d love coquito. It’s more of a holiday drink, though.”

“Does it have chocolate?”

“Noooo,” I waved away, taking his mug to rinse in the sink. I could feel him behind me, watching as I rambled on. “It’s sorta like eggnog, but with condensed milk, cream of coconut, cinnamon…” I tried not to list everything, but then got excited, “Oh! And rum. Lots and lots of rum.”

“Never heard of it.”

I turned and huffed a curl out of my face, unable to hide my grin. “It’s more of a Puerto Rican thing. My family and I make it for Christmas every year, and believe me, after midnight mass in a very old, very stuffy church, a stiff drink was just what we needed. Unless, of course, you’re my uncle Mateo. He’s a priest.”

“No booze for Father Mateo?” Nick leaned his elbow on the counter, making himself comfortable.

“Does the blood of Christ count?” I asked. “If so, then his cup runneth over. Besides that, I do recall him accidentally getting drunk from coquito one year while dipping his cup into a rum filled bowl at my family Christmas party. Everyone was gifted with extra blessings that night.”

Nick cracked a smile as I ironically made the sign of the cross. He was always interested in my life back in Puerto Rico, enjoying the chaotic stories about my family with his uninterrupted gaze and attentive nod.

“They sound like a lot of fun.” Nick shook his head, his hardy laugh rumbling from his chest. I loved that I could get that reaction from him, creased cheeks and eyes.

“They’re the best. A little heavy on tradition. Marriage. Babies. Religious stuff… but I think their intentions are good.”

We got quiet for a moment while I imagined a much worse scenario of my mamí finding my sex toy as opposed to Nick. The shame would’ve been completely unbearable. That was one thing I didn’t share with anyone—how the topic of sex was completely forbidden, a taboo of taboos that left my family in the dark over the countdown I was working on. They barely knew what I did for a living, my job description reduced to ‘professional typist’ for my abuelita to better understand.

Nick looked over at Marty, who sniffed under my empty Christmas tree. Not a single gift was placed beneath it, but the smell of pine wafted in our direction, not the least bit subdued by the smothering of lights and silver tinsel. Photos of my family decorated the branches, along with little colorful ornaments that I’d brought with me when I left home.

“And are you visiting your family for the holidays?”

Ugh. Please don’t ask.

I was about to escape the purgatory of being an intern at New York Prestige, and this sex toy countdown I was working on meant my chances of being promoted to an associate editor were riding on this one silly assignment. I had no money to travel, let alone the desire to bring vibrators along to myveryCatholic family gathering. Still, the fact that I couldn’t go (that I couldn’t make coquito on Nochebuena—the biggest family event of the year), broke my heart.

“I, uh, decided to stay in New York this year.” I kept it short. “You?”

“My sister in Jersey invited me over for dinner tonight.”

“Fun!”

“Yeah, not really… it’s nothing like your family parties, and between my nephews and the cousins involved, things tend to get a little overwhelming. Then there’s my sister's ex-husband.”

“He shows up, too?”

“Eh, yeah. They’re cordial for the kids, but the tension is always suffocating,” Nick mocked, wrapping his hand around his neck, his large, light eyes bright and hilariously worried. I giggled. “If there’s anything I learned from those two, it’s to never mix business with pleasure. She got involved with someone she worked with, and now they hate each other.”

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