Page 46 of The Broposal

When we all got inside, Nacho reached over and nudged Han.

“If you keep doing pinche PDA like that, you gonna have to join the band,” he said, and I laughed. No matter how many times Han told Nacho he had to work or didn’t want to join the band, Nacho stayed persistent, bringing it up in the randomest moments.

“What does PDA have to do with your band?” Han didn’t look annoyed. Probably because Nacho’s attempts were a little endearing.

“You’re in a band?” my little cousin Angelica asked, eyes wide.

“A mariachi band!” Nacho stood straight, practically singing the word “mariachi.”

“Can you play a song?” Angelica asked with starry eyes.

“I’ll get my instruments!” Nacho said, and it didn’t escape methat he’d said “instruments” plural. Han was getting roped into the show, and I was going to enjoy every second of it. I loved hearing Han sing, but he rarely did publicly without Nacho’s coaxing.

“Have you eaten?” My mom ushered Han and me into the kitchen, where chicken, carne asada, tortillas, beans, rice, and toppings like jicama slaw and salsa covered the island. I made a plate to share with Han. If I had to run around socializing, I was at least going to get some good food out of this. We went back to the living room, where Nacho was already standing with a guitar and guitarrón. He handed the guitar to Han, who slumped and groaned but took it.

“Aaaaaa-ha-ha-haaaiiii!” Nacho sang all high-pitched, and I caught Han smiling. They played a song I didn’t recognize but enjoyed all the same. Han’s voice was like velvet. Smooth and soft, but it carried throughout the room. Nacho’s voice, on the other hand, bellowed. They complemented each other well. Listening to them sing together might have made this party worth it.

Once the song was over, Han handed the guitar back to Nacho.

“Not bad, bro!” Han said with a grin.

“Not your bro, mijo. Pero si, that was, como se dice… fire.”

I shook my head, laughing. Han’s inability to give a compliment without the “bro” honorific was both cute and extremely annoying when directed my way. Wait, was it okay to be thinking of Han as cute, while trying to keep him from becoming a rebound? To be fair, Han being cute was just an objective fact, right? It didn’t mean I had feelings just for acknowledging it. Maybe I could think of Han as cute as long as I was being objective about it.

Nacho continued attempting to convince Han to join the band for a couple of minutes, with no luck. Then my aunt Rachel—who came from Arizona for this party with my tío Edgar—interrupted the conversation, grabbing our attention while Nacho brought the instruments back to the car. Rachel married into the family years ago, and she was always eager to welcome anyone else who married in.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Welcome to the family!” Rachel said, shaking Han’s hand vigorously. “Are you Han’s mother?” Rachel turned to Tía Mary and shook her hand next.

“Pretty much.” Han smiled at his tía. “She’s my tía, but she raised me.”

“Where are your parents?” Rachel asked, blunt as always.

“Aunt Rachel…” I started, but Han was already answering.

“Mexico.”

“Oh right, I forgot!” She snapped her fingers as if remembering where she put her keys. I didn’t know Rachel had any idea about Han being undocumented. I’d only told my mom once in confidence… Dammit. I should have known I couldn’t trust my mom not to gossip. “Did you have to get locked in the back of a truck to cross? I saw that in a movie.”

My jaw dropped at her audacity. Before I could change the subject to save Han from reliving any of that, he was already answering.

“Um, yeah, but it wasn’t really like the movies…” This was not a story I’d ever been privy to, and I didn’t want to hear it for the first time in front of my gossiping aunts. They were starting to gather around, and Han looked like he might run away. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Mariana, Leti, and Han’s tíos had already been pulled away to greet my parents, but Han and I were stuck with Rachel,since she kept asking follow-up questions. I wanted nothing more than to whisk Han away and tell him he didn’t have to talk about any of this, ever.

Rachel took a step closer, so only me and Han could hear. “Is that why you’re getting married?”

“What? Aunt Rachel, that’s—” I started, but she interrupted.

“It’s okay if it is,” she said, miming the motion of zipping her lips.

“It’s not like that,” Han said.

“Don’t worry. I’m just messing with you guys.” She laughed. “But seriously, I’m dying to know what it was like to cross for the first time.”

“Baby, you don’t have to talk about this here,” I interjected so Han wouldn’t feel pressured to answer. “Seriously, Aunt Rachel, what about me? I haven’t seen you in years. Don’t you want to know whatI’vebeen up to?” I said, trying to sound jealous. “I have stories, too.”

Han squeezed my hand.

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