Page 56 of Kiss Me, Maybe

When I was growing up, my parents hosted every family event here. Birthdays, anniversaries, even my quince was here. My mom would set up folding chairs around the patio furniture, and my dad would get the grill started and cook enough food for the entire block.

All my brightest childhood memories were formed in this house. Running around with my cousins, playing hide-and-seek, taking photos in front of the staircase with my damas.

All my worst memories were formed here too. Esme and I sitting at the bottom of the stairs when I told her I’d never been kissed. Briana was outside beneath the old oak tree when Esme told her. If I squint, I swear I can still see them outside the window, smirking conspiratorially at each other.

I lift one of the small picture frames from the side table downstairs. It’s one of me and Julian when I was twelve and he was nine. He’s smiling up at the camera, two front teeth missing. That was the year he lost two baby teeth after biting into a chocolate egg on Easter Sunday. Our hair is flecked with colored confetti from an afternoon of throwing cascarones. I smile to myself at the memory.

“Oh no.” I glance up at the sound of Julian’s voice. He points to the picture frame in my hand. “Iknewyour parents still had that picture. My mom swore she lost it.”

“You were so adorable back then,” I tease. “What happened?”

He tries to snatch the frame from my hand, but I hide it behind my back and take a big step away from him.

“I think I’ll hold on to it,” I say. “It’s perfect blackmail material, don’t you think?”

“I’ll remember this. Particularly the next time Krystal comes over. I’m not the only one who took embarrassing childhood photos.”

He shoves past me to the side table, inspecting it for blackmail material on me. His frown deepens when he doesn’t find any.

“You’re forgetting I’ve never taken a bad photo a day in my life.” I flip my hair off my shoulders. “I doubt you’ll find anything.”

“We’ll see about that.” He purses his lips, but his expression twists when he finds one of the few pictures we have of his father. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I set the frame face down on the table. He glances at me, raising one singular brow.

“That won’t help.” He lifts the frame from the table, cradling it in his hands as he looks down at his father. The photo was taken at least ten years ago. I can tell by how little gray is in my father’s hair, though Manuel’s was already starting to streak with silver. They’re standing shoulder to shoulder, smiles wide and faced straight to the camera.

“There’s no chance of him coming around, is there?” Julian’s expression hardens, and I kick myself. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“It’s not stupid. Impossible, maybe. But not stupid.” He sets the frame back on the table with a sigh. “My mom doesn’t believe in divorce, but she hasn’t stopped considering it since I came out.”

“I didn’t know that. I don’t think my parents did either.”

“You know better than anyone how quickly secrets becomepublic knowledge in this family.”Boy, do I.“I told her if she’s going to do it, she should do it for herself. Not for me. I feel guilty enough knowing how well and truly I upended our family.”

“You’re their child. You didn’t upend anything.” He doesn’t believe me now but I hope he realizes someday that it’s true.

“It could be worse, I guess.” He rolls his shoulders back. “No one’s told Buelo and Buela yet.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Our grandparents are in their early seventies, but they’ve already gotten into the habit of saying, “This isn’t our world anymore” every June when the pride parade shows on TV. And yet they never think to turn off MSNBC. It’s wild coming from a Democratic conservative family. They hate Republican politicians for everything they stand for except stricter abortion policies and rampant homophobia. After many long conversations, my parents have come around on their own time but the same can’t be said for the rest of my family. “Their hearts won’t be able to take it with two of us around.”

He flashes a grin. “No, probably not.”

“By the way, you only have a couple hours to find that blackmail material,” I tell him. “Krystal’s coming over for dinner, and I fully expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Today?” He goes white with panic. When I give him a questioning look, he says, “Well, the thing is, Briana and Esme kind of invited themselves over.”

Oh, fuck no.

“Youinvitedthem here?”

“No, no.” He holds up a finger. “I want to make it veryclear that I tried to ward them off, but they weren’t having it. Especially not when they found out I’m staying with you.”

“You didn’t tell them you were living here?”

“Are you kidding?” His eyes go comically wide. “I told as few people as possible. I don’t even think my dad knows I’m staying here. Briana and Esme only found out because they ran into my mom at H-E-B.”

“And now they’re coming over.” I smother a groan with both hands. “I’m not cooking for them.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them that.” He stares down at his feet, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Your parents still have photo albums upstairs, don’t they?”

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