Page 40 of Love at Teamsgiving
I raise an eyebrow because I suspect thewein her statement are Momzilla and Queen Kong.
“We have everything figured out,” Carlotta adds, sitting beside her as if they’re a pair of monarchs on their wooden thrones.
Miguel’s fork clatters onto the plate.
I grip the edges of the chair because I’ve heard similar words spoken, pertaining to our wedding—they had the flowers, the music, and everything else arranged.
He mutters, “Momzilla and Queen Kong.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“We’re going to design the build-out of the salon,” Mom declares.
Carlotta lifts her arms in a cheer, then slaps the table with her arthritic fingers. “We as in A-2 Carpentry Crew. We’re back in business.”
“Pop never stopped working,” Miguel says as if not quite following.
Carlotta whips into a frenzy of inspiration and ideas for my salon. Yes, the dream salon that I’ve been thinking about since I was a little girl. Much like when we were with Rae, I can’t get a word in edgewise. A mixture of confusion, frustration, and angerstews inside. Fear swells as if everything I’ve worked for slips away from me. They’re taking over ... again.
Miguel pumps his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. The salon is Junie’s gig.”
Throat tight, my gaze snaps to his. Apology fills his eyes because he knows how they are—how they were. But this time he spoke up.
Finding my voice, I say, “Thanks. But I’m hiring someone local.”
“We’re local,” Mom says.
“But you stopped working?—”
“I took a break for bereavement. Anyway, you said I’m your assistant. I figured I’d move things along. No sense in sitting in that lonely little house all day when I could make myself useful.”
My mother had hardly left our apartment in nine months and now she’s suddenly activated?
I start, “I’ve designed what I want the interior to look like and?—”
“Yes, it’s all very modern and sleek, but we’re taking it in a different direction. Think old world.”
Carlotta adds, “Timeless.”
“Classic,” Mom says.
Carlotta waves her hand grandly in the air. “Polished wood, rich colors, regal designs.”
“Sounds lovely.” Mom smiles like it’s settled.
“I agree,” Carlotta says.
“You agree? You’ve never agreed on anything.” I’m ready to cite examples, but Miguel interrupts.
“This is Junie’s dream. Don’t you think she should be the one to design the interior and orchestrate the remodel?”
“Why do it alone when you have family to help?” my mother asks.
I pluck a meatball off Miguel’s plate and stuff it in my mouth because there is no reasoning, out-gunning, or escaping the moms when they’ve aligned forces. It happened once. I never expected it to happen again.
Miguel shakes his head, his long shaggy hair shiny in the soft light, and shrugs into his jacket. He passes me mine, and says, “Let’s go.”
Silence, unheard of in the Cruz household, settles over us as if he just had the last word. Then his father jumps to his feet and pumps the air.
