Page 42 of A Dish Best Served Hot

He shook his head some more.

“This is fucking evil,” Yara wheezed. She grabbed a slice of bread, stuck out her tongue, and held the bread to it.

Lola turned her attention back to Saint.

He was rocking back and forth and his fists were clenched tight on top of the table.

Around them the crowd was screaming. “Swallow! Swallow! Swallow!”

Lola knew that if he quit, he’d be so disappointed in himself. She knew him better than almost anyone. Saint didn’t do failure, so she decided to give him more of a push. She reached over and grabbed both sides of his face. “Look at me!”

He opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and swollen.

“Saint, you are a soldier. You went to war. You saw and did shit most people can’t even imagine. This is nothing compared to that. Swallow the fucking chicken.”

With a grimace that looked like he was ingesting razor blades, Saint swallowed. He immediately started coughing like he was choking.

The entire bar erupted in cheers, but Lola’s focus was on Saint so intently that she still heard him wheeze, “Help,” in between coughs.

“Okay. Okay.” Lola grabbed the glass of milk and held it up to his mouth. “Here drink this.”

He began drinking, long deep swallows of milk. The glass was empty in thirty seconds. “More,” he demanded.

Someone passed Lola another glass and she snatched it up before holding it up for him. “Here.”

He ripped off the gloves, letting them fall to the floor, and then grabbed the glass from her. That milk was also gone in a moment. “Oh fuck,” he rasped, before letting out a few more coughs.

As if by magic two dishes of vanilla ice cream appeared in front of Saint and Yara. Saint was too busy wiping his face to notice, so Lola grabbed it.

“I had them bring y’all some ice cream,” Mariana said. “Some people say it helps.”

Lola scooped up a huge dollop. “Open,” she told Saint.

He did and she shoved the ice cream in his mouth. She fed him a few more scoops.

“Better?” she asked.

“A little,” he answered.

“I’m light-headed and nauseous,” Yara said from the other side of the table.

“I feel like my insides are on fire,” Saint told her.

“That’s because you swallowed when you should’ve spit,” Yara informed him.

There was a beat of silence and then Lola couldn’t control herself anymore. She started laughing. Mariana joined in as if they were only waiting for someone else to start. As soon as Yara realized what she’d said, she too began laughing. Saint looked like he was in too much pain to laugh, but he at least cracked a smile and shook his head at their immaturity.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he said, causing the rest of them to laugh even harder.

Mariana slapped him on the back. Yara passed him a piece of bread.

And just like that Saint was accepted into the fold.

10

Abuelo Papo eyed the dominoes on the table in front of him, the dominoes in his hands, and then the ones in Saint’s hands. He looked at their opponents. With a smirk he took one of his remaining dominoes, placed it face down on the table next to him, and sent it spinning.

“What does that mean?” Rosie asked from her spot on Abuelo’s knee. It had been a little over three weeks since Lola had taken over Rosie’s class, and the little girl still refused to talk at school, though Saint thought she seemed a little less miserable when he dropped her off each day.

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