Page 17 of Outspoken

With a sigh and an eye roll, he says, “Can I open this, tío?”

“Sí. As long as your mom isn't around because she'll—”

My sister, Maribel, appears as if magically summoned. She snatches the bag.

“Mom!” Daniel whines. “Please let me open it. Uncle Miguel, tío, whatever, gives the best gifts.”

I frown. “If I'm a 'whatever', then maybe I'll take my gift back.”

“No! Sorry. Please.” He clasps his hands and gives Maribel and me his best innocent expression.

Maribel shoots me an accusing look for having created this situation. Part of her short, brown bob is tied back, but her hair is frizzy, with wild strands floating around her face, unwilling to be tamed.

She tries to shoo Daniel away, holding the gift hostage. “No. You can open Uncle Whatever's gift later with your other gifts,aftercake.”

“You heard the drill sergeant,” I tease.

“You,” she says, jabbing a finger at me, “watch it or I'll banish you to go buy more utensils.” She turns to Daniel. “Andyou, have some patience.”

He lets out a groan and grabs my hand. “Come on, we're playing soccer and you're on my team.”

There are just kids on the grass—everyone else is under the ramada. I'll be the only adult playing, which is usually how it goes.

“Seems like an unfair advantage,” I comment.

Daniel grins, revealing a gap where a front baby tooth recently fell out. “Exactly.”

Maribel grabs my arm before I can follow him. “Mamá no está aquí?”

I shake my head. “Mom wanted to come, but she felt too dizzy while getting ready. The chemo last week is still hitting her. And it’s Patty’s day off, so I can't stay long.”

I thought of asking Patty, Mom’s caregiver, if she could come over last minute, but she already works fifty hours between my mom and her other clients—she deserves a rest. I tried to stay home, but Mom insisted I come to Daniel’s party for at least an hour. She’s a hard woman to tell no.

Maribel adjusts her hair tie and chews on her bottom lip. Worry lines fan out around her eyes. “Did the new prescription help with nausea?”

My shoulders tense as I think of all the dry heaving Mom did before sunrise. “No. She's seeing the doc next week, so we'll try another combo and hope it works.”

Maribel squeezes my arm, her gaze distant. “Okay. Well, we're eating soon. Go play because I know that's all you want—not to hang out with any adult familia or anything.”

I give a toothy grin. “You know me so well.”

After a lively game of soccer where I run slowly to make it even—ignoring Daniel's pleas for me to stop being an abuela—everyone settles down to eat. Cousins, an uncle who is visiting, and their spouses fill the concrete tables spread out under two ramadas. The kids and teens are huddled in jackets, sitting in plastic chairs on the grass.

I stuff my plate with food and then find a spot next to my cousin, Rico. This fool always has his shades hanging from the front of his shirt, even indoors and after dark.

“Sup?” he asks as I sit, a ray of moody sunlight bouncing off his smooth, brown head.

I shrug, lifting the elote I forgot to smother in cheese. “Hungry.”

A chilly January wind whips through, scattering plastic plates and cups. Maribel grumbles in the distance as Rico starts chatting with another cousin.

I focus on eating quietly, my body suddenly drained and heavy. It's not from the exercise since I'm used to working out with clients most days. This exhaustion is from the weight of being around my family.

I love them, but I wasn’t up for this today. If it weren’t so hard to oppose Mamá's powerful will, I’d be at home with her chilling on the couch. I wouldn’t be here around all the couples and their kids. All theunits.

I'm the lone single adult at family get-togethers, and the only one over thirty without children. I try not to think about it, but it digs at me. Some family gatherings are easier than others. It’s harder today because my younger brother, Carlos, called this morning to tell me he had proposed to his long-term girlfriend. They’re eloping sometime this year and then immediately trying for a baby. Now all three of my siblings are hitched and I'm officially the only unmarried one.

Six years ago, I moved back to take care of Mom, help pay for her medical needs, and buy a house where she could be comfortable. Now all I have is her. It’s painful to face the reality that she won’t be here forever. Someday, I’ll be completely alone while all my siblings have families and a soulmate to welcome them home.

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