Page 64 of The Broposal

“Sooo good,” Kenny said through a mouthful of chilaquiles as he closed his eyes and relaxed his body. I knew I was a good cook, but I still felt a swell of pride at the compliment.

When Kenny was about halfway done with his food, his eyes trailed from his plate off to the distance, staring at nothing.

“You okay, bro?” I asked before I remembered how mad the “bro” thing made Kenny the night before. “Um, I mean, you okay… pal?”

Kenny’s nose scrunched up like he’d eaten something bitter. “Ew. Notpal.”

“Noted. But you didn’t answer the question.”

“I guess I’m just not really hungry anymore.” Kenny got up and took his half-eaten plate to the kitchen sink. My shoulders sank in defeat. I couldn’t even get his mind off things for one meal. I really couldn’t blame him. The dude had a baby on the way. A baby with the most selfish she-devil I had ever met. I wasn’t sure how we would make it work. If we were going through with the wedding, we definitely needed a plan.

“Hey, I’m here for you. You know that, right?” I said, making sure to hold my tongue at the end of the sentence as I watched him clean the plates. The thought of helping with a baby scared the shit out of me, but if we were getting married, even if it was fake, I was going to do everything I could to ease Kenny’s load. That was how I could begin to pay him back the impossible debt I owed.

“Yeah, I know, Han,” Kenny said, giving me a forced smile.

“No, really, I’ll help. Whatever I can do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, help take care of the baby… buy diapers and shit, whatever I can.”

“Han…” Kenny started, but I wasn’t done.

“We’ll fight for custody if we have to. Maybe we can even do this without Jackie in the picture. We can have a small wedding, something at your parents’ house. That way we can use the money for baby stuff,” I suggested. “Like I said, we can get custody. Me and you.”

“I thought you didn’t want kids,” Kenny said, eyes all misty, “because of your mom…” The mention of my mom made my stomach sink. I’d gone out of my way to avoid thinking about her since my last conversation with my dad. I went to the kitchen with one crutch under my arm and put my free arm on Kenny’s shoulder. To support me, but also to support him.

“Listen, I’m not my mom,” I admitted, for the first time, to myself and to him. It was true. I was my own person, and I knew whatnotto do because of my mom. “I’m serious. I’m helping.” I made sure to look Kenny in the eye as I said it. He slipped his arms under mine in a hug, knocking the crutch to the floor again. It was okay, though, because Kenny supported my weight so I wouldn’t fall.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Kenny mumbled.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said, and Kenny pulled away, wiping his eyes before picking the crutch up off the floor. Unlike me, Kenny wasn’t one to hide his emotions. When he wanted to cry, he just cried. I actually kind of admired that about him. I was jealous, even. I had no trouble crying during Disney movies or Kleenex commercials, but in real life? I was useless when itcame to emotional maturity in front of other people. Kenny, on the other hand, was still openly crying. I wanted to drop everything and pull him into another hug, but instead I awkwardly patted him on the back. “Love you, bro.”

“Shutup.”

Early on, Kenny’s mom had insisted on helping with the wedding planning, which was good, because it meant Kenny and I didn’t have to do it all ourselves—and we had someone who actually knew what she was doing. On the ride to meet Kenny’s mom at what she insisted was “the best bakery in New Mexico” for the cake-tasting appointment (which I was stoked about since I wouldn’t have to cook), Kenny quizzed me on some questions we would probably be asked at the immigration office to prove the marriage wasn’t fraudulent. This would be a piece of cake (heh) because all the answers were either the truth or half-truths, since Kenny and I already lived our lives similarly to how a married couple might. I didn’t have to think twice about how we met (elementary school) or our dog’s name (Luna) and who fed her (me).

When we got to the bakery, his mom was already sitting inside waiting for us. Kenny held the door open for me so I could get through on my crutches, and we made our way over to sit with Elisa.

“I know Han is injured right now, so I already got all the logistics taken care of with the baker! All you two need to do is pick a cake and frosting,” she said with a huge grin on her face.

I frowned. I had wanted to talk with herbeforeshe gave wedding details to the baker, since everything was about to change. “We’ve been talking a lot, and we decided to have a smallceremony instead,” I said, avoiding the bit about the baby, in case Kenny wasn’t ready to have that talk yet. His parents probably hadn’t seen Jackie’s Insta-sound, since they weren’t online, but I had to just hope no one had blabbed to them. It was still possible Jackie would get an abortion, and if she did that, we wouldn’t have to tell anyone who didn’t already see the post. Including the USCIS officer at the immigration office. I held out hope for that, knowing a baby might complicate the whole green card thing.

“What? Why?” Elisa’s eyes were wide, and she looked absolutely horrified. Based on her reaction, I guessed no one had told her about the baby. But of course she was disappointed. She had been looking forward to a huge party.

“We’d rather save the money,” Kenny said, refusing to meet his mother’s eyes.

Elisa leaned forward, as if getting ready to tell a secret. “We were going to wait to tell you until everyone came over for Thanksgiving on Thursday, but we would love to pay for it! So don’t you worry about money, all right? We want you to get to have the wedding of your dreams.”

“Mami, you don’t have to—” I started, but Elisa shushed me by practically shoving a piece of cake into my mouth.

“It’s the least we can do, really. We’re happy to do it!”

A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed the cake and tried to let that sink in. I didn’t know if I’d be able to forgive myself for lying to Kenny’s parents if they did this for us. It was one thing when we were paying for our own wedding, but how could I ask them to pay for something that wasn’t even real? It all just felt so much more wrong now. Kenny looked at me with a huge grin on his face, but I couldn’t give him one back. I just felt tense. And sick. How could I let Elisa and Cedric payfor this? How could I ever make it up to them if they did? And would they ever forgive me if they found out it was all fake?

I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the conversation, and I had a hard time enjoying the tasting while Elisa and Kenny got to work picking out a venue and got started on the guest list. I could barely hear them. All I could think was how I was betraying their trust in a way I could never make up for. But no matter how guilty that made me feel, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Kenny seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement, but I could hardly breathe.

I finally came out of my haze when Kenny kissed my cheek.

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