Page 4 of The Crush
That last one from a week ago had earned me an eyebrow raise high enough that I had made a note to strip it from my vocabularyin favor of words that sound far less like I am picturing him when I fall asleep at night. Which I absolutely am.You’ve had almost a decade to get over him. Why can’t you?
Probably something I should figure out since the crush that has been existing at a steady simmer for years is now boiling over into a severe inability to focus on much else, including the dishes my mother is currently waiting for me to dry as I stand beside her. “Oh, sorry. He looked fine. I’ve told you.”
Her mouth presses into a firm line as she returns to her brush and pan, the billows of steam from the hot water still not enough to make her look anything less than pristine. “Well, if he would show up for dinner, I wouldn’t have to ask.” She sighs. “A month he’s been home and not one word.”
Earlier tonight, Tadeo had once again shown up for our weekly family meal, and once again, he’d done so alone. His head low and a small resigned shrug in place of the excuses he had offered for Daniel’s absence in the first few weeks.
At the time, my mother had simply nodded and ushered Tadeo inside, her practiced hostess smile clear to me even from where I was busy setting the dining room table in my preassigned blush-pink dress. I had done my best to mimic her expression for the rest of the night.
“I’m sure he’ll come next week,” I tell her softly, unsure of what to make of this rare display from someone who is usually the human embodiment of a steel pillar. “He’s still settling back in.”
“Yes, maybe he is.” She takes off one of her gloves to needlessly fix the perfectly tied red ribbon at the back of her coal-black hair. “Can you finish up here? I’d like to go over my reading a few more times before mass tomorrow morning.”
As she turns to go, I open my mouth to say more. Admit to her that as good as I thought Daniel had looked, he’d also looked—
“Don’t forget to really get the silverware nice and dry,” she says over her shoulder. “Last time, you left water spots.”
My mouth snaps shut, any thoughts of a heart-to-heart burning up in the franklyscaldingwater as I plunge my hands into the sink for the offending flatware. My yelp of pain catches the attention of one of my brothers as he meanders in from barn chores.
“You all right, hermanita?” Gabe asks, peering over my shoulder. “Any lasting damage?”
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “How does she stand the water this hot?”
“The woman turns tortillas with her bare hand, and you’re asking how she stands a little lukewarm water?”
“It’s notlukewarm,” I say defensively, waving my hand at the sink. “It’s hot enough to melt flesh. You try.”
“Alas,” he says, now turning back from the fridge and already chewing, “my hands are full.” He holds up two empanadas like small shields. “I will help dry though before I head back out.”
The youngest of my three older brothers, Gabriel went through a growth spurt around the age of thirteen that had never quite let up even if his height had finally capped out at six foot four. Taller if you include his dark brown curls, which he does, since they help give him a solid two inches over our oldest brother Aarón. Something that never fails to bring Gabe as much enjoyment as it does Aarón annoyance. As for my last brother Eli, his height falls somewhere in the middle. As is tradition.
Then there is me, the surprise addition after my parents’ supposed last child. I always picture my brothers standing around mylace-gilded bassinet at the ages of twelve, ten, and six, likely wondering what the fuss was all about when my primary contribution appeared to be how many bows I could wear at any one time.
“Too bad Danny couldn’t make it tonight, huh?” Gabe talks between bites as he wanders over to stand at the counter to my left. “Hope he’s doing okay.”
Despite being in literal hot water, my whole body runs cold as I turn to look at him. “What do you mean? You think something is wrong?”
Gabe tilts his head. “Not necessarily. I’m only surprised we haven’t seen him yet. Well, at least not all of us have.”
I pivot back to the sink, trying to tamp down my avid interest in the topic to something more casual. “I’ve only seen him the once.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabe frown. “Just once? I thought you were going over there on Wednesdays. Didn’t Mamá volunteer you for paperwork or something?”
“I would have volunteered myself if she’d actually asked,” I grumble, feeling that usual spike of annoyance at continually having all my decisions made for me. “It’s mainly helping with invoices. And a little organization. Well, alotof organization. I think Tadeo must hate the bookkeeping side of things even more than our father does. Everything is in a million different piles. Some in the house. Some in the barn office. There’s probably even some in his truck, but I haven’t had a chance to look yet.”
Gabe chuckles, finishing off his leftovers before nudging me to the side so he can wash his hands. “Doesn’t surprise me. Tadeo has never been the type to sit behind a desk. Likes to always be moving. María probably used to take care of that kind of stuff for him.”
A smallsolemn silence passes between the two of us, an acknowledgement of a grief that still stings even if the wound has grown old.
“Probably,” I agree, jerking my chin in the direction of my discarded drying towel when I see Gabe looking for one. “Anyway, like I said, I haven’t seen Daniel since that first day. He’s been…keeping himself busy, I guess.”
Or he’s avoiding you.My stomach clenches, one of the niggling fears that’s been keeping me up at night now invading my waking hours. Making me remember how he had looked when I mentioned his time away, how dismissive he had been of the idea that people might admire him for it.
Growing up, he always seemed so unbreakable to me. I’dtoldmyself he was.
“Being home probably feels weird for him,” Gabe suggests as if he can hear what I’m thinking. “An adjustment. For both of you.”
I shake my head, trying to shake off the sinking feeling too as I reach for the last of the dirty dishes beneath the water. “I don’t think it’s quite the same. I was hardly that far away, and I was home so much.”
