Page 97 of Winging It with You

I randomly select a message from an unknown user named @phil_d23 that readsDid you see this????

Phil has shared a post from another unknown account. I click on the photo and nearly drop my phone.

Theo’s handsome face stares up at me from the screen. He’s sandwiched between two adorable children, his niece and nephew, I’m assuming, and they’re all caught mid-laugh. Frozen forever in time in what looks to be a happy family moment.

The user’s name is @efernandez and she’s captioned the photoI love when my brother is in town!with a healthy amount of red heart emojis.

But then, I notice she’s taggedEastside Farmers Market, which pulls up an exact location. Suddenly, I can breathe. Theo. Would it be the worst idea in the history of ideas to just…show up?

I race through my room, stuffing my few belongings into my bag before I talk myself out of it. I don’t care what it costs or how I’ll get there, but knowing exactly—well, kind of—where Theo is has ignited something within me. I’ve wasted too much time as it is.

Ihaveto see him.

Throwing on my shoes while still shoving clothing into my bag with my passport between my teeth, I’m about to rip open the hotel room door to figure out my way to the airport.

But when the door opens, my escape route is blocked. Jo’s standing there, a phone squished between her ear and shoulder and her trusty tablet in hand. The same photo I was just looking at is enlarged on its screen.

“I found him,” she says. Her eyes show signs of immense exhaustion. And though she’s clearly in business mode, there’s a softness there that tells me everything I need to know about her. “I’m on hold with the airline now, but if we hurry, I think I can get you on the next flight out.”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond but just charges down the hall. I follow her lead like I have this entire time, ready for her to make the impossible happen.

27

Theo

The Fernandez Residence

1201 Stone Hill Lane

Monona, Wisconsin

I’m having a staring contest with Lola and losing.

“You’re not very good at this,” she says, crossing her arms in victory with a smug smile.

“Shush, you.” I blink rapidly, forcing moisture back into my old, dry eyes. “Let’s go again.”

Lola laughs, taking a sip of the double-chocolate malt we each got while Mom, Elise, and Frankie still wander the farmers’ market. “Tío Dos, let’s not.” There’s pity in her voice.

Great. My life has been reduced to being pitied by a ten-year-old.

Even though it has only been a few days, we’ve all quickly fallen into both old and new habits since my return home. Stefan and my mom can always be found in the kitchen, whipping up everything from chilaquiles with homemade salsa verde to a never-ending supply of my mom’s famous tacos al pastor.

Elise works more often than not, but when she does not, the two of us take the kids on long bike rides along the lake, stopping to pick the wildflowers that grow by the water’s edge. Frankie and Lola run and proudly present them to their abuelita every time we come back, who claps and returns their generosity with besitos on each cheek.

My father and I spend our mornings side by side in his woodshed like we used to. I watch in awe as he uses his nimble hands to create delicate pieces. Fine lines unfurl from the corners of his eyes while he runs a fresh piece of pine through the sander. He’s aged, sure, and it may take him a little bit longer to complete orders these days, but everyone on this side of Lake Michigan knows that if they want perfection, they order from Alejandro Fernandez.

We have dinner under the bistro lights and play cards as a family. I’m thankful we don’t play for money, because Elise would bankrupt us all in a single round. We lounge on the dock well into the evening, sipping on sweet summer wine and watching with tired eyes as lightning bugs dip in between the reeds. Lola and Frankie end up falling asleep in someone’s arms almost every night, until it’s time for one of us to carry them off to bed.

Life is sweeter on the lake. Slower and more meaningful. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d missed being here until I was right in the thick of it all again. Surrounded by the stillness of everyday life with the ones you love.

Frankie leads my mom by the hand, tugging her along with his usual partially toothless smile that’s brighter than the sun. “Look what we got, Tío Dos,” he shouts when he’s a little closer. I’ve been told I’m not allowed to say anything about his volume control, or lack thereof, as he’s allegedly me reincarnated at his age.

He jumps into my lap, nearly spilling my malt in the process, and shoves a basket of bright-red cherries into my face. “We got your favorite, the sweethearts.” My mom sits next to me on the bench, pulling Lola onto her lap and hugging her tight.

“You did?” I ask, tickling him as he squirms in my lap. He reaches into the basket and grabs a cherry and rather forcefully shoves it in my mouth, stem and all. “Mmm, thank you, little one.”

We all take turns trying to catch cherries in our mouths, laughing when they bounce off our teeth and noses, and then laughing even harder as we struggle to spit out the pits. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elise take a few photos of the four of us squished together on the wooden bench and then smile when she looks down at the memory she’s just captured. I remind myself to ask her to send it to me.

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