Page 46 of Hearts to Mend

“What the hell are you assholes doing here?” Rico asks Javi as they hug.

“¡Ay Dios mio! Such foul language, hermanito. Don’t let mamá hear you say that,” Manny chimes in.

Javi says, “Of course we’re here. When our baby brother goes down with a stroke, he can expect a visit.”

Rico smirks, seeming a little sad from the reminder of his current condition but still happy to be standing arm in arm with his big brothers.

Manny looks my way, and his brows hit his hairline. “Do my eyes deceive me?” He comes at me with his hands out like he wants to pinch my cheeks. “Javi, would you look at this? It’s little Dee Dee Fletcher all grown up!”

I shake my head, sure I’m blushing bright red as the Rodriguez brothers turn their attention on me, swooping me into meaty bear hugs.

“Good to see you, girl,” one of them says. “You keeping our little brother in line?”

“That’s an impossible task, and you know it.”

They laugh, and with a snicker, Javi adds, “Well if anyone can do it, it’d be you, chica mona.”

I pull away from the hugs, ready to let the family enjoy their reunion in peace, when Inez steps out of the house looking vibrant in an aqua pantsuit. She holds Mateo’s hand in hers, and to everyone’s surprise, that little devil runs right past his dad and his uncles to tackle me around the legs in a hug.

“Dee, my tios are here,” he says to me with a gigantic grin.

“I see that.”

“And abuela let me help make the enchiladas.”

“Well that sounds yummy.”

“You can have one, if you want.”

This little boy is too sweet for this world. “Well, I think tonight is a family night. So you’ll get to have two enchiladas!”

I look up at Rico and his family, a little surprised by how they’re all staring at me like I’ve said something shocking or profound.

It’s Inez who says, “Dee, stay for dinner. It will be like old times.” All of Inez’s boys nod, both generations of them.

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude, this is family—”

“And you’re family,” Inez insists. “Now come inside before we feed the next generation of mosquitoes.”

Everyone else laughs at her joke, but I’m struck dumb by one particular part of her statement. I’m family?

Inez doesn’t wait for me to accept the invite; she just turns and leads us into the house like ducklings in a row. Mateo wraps his hand around a few of my fingers and pulls me inside too.

Once we’ve taken seats around the table, said our grace, and filled our plates, the conversation turns serious. Above the ambient clatter of cutlery against ceramic, Javi asks Rico, “How are you, hermanito?”

Rico finishes cutting Mateo’s enchiladas into bite-size pieces before answering. “Better every day. I’ve been going to speech therapy for my aphasia.”

“What’s aphasia?” one of the brothers asks.

“It’s where you have trouble expressing or understanding language. Like, the other day, I was trying to say the word ‘eleven’ but the word ‘yellow’ came out instead.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.”

“As for the physical symptoms, I have most of the sensation back on my left side, except my left foot still has some numbness, and it feels like I have a string wrapped around my pinky toe.”

“Weird,” they say again.

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