Page 21 of Careless Whisper

I changed quickly and headed to The Butcher’s Table to have dinner with my parents. They were visiting from San Miguel de Allende for a couple of days before heading to New York to spend time with my mother’s family.

I spotted my parents as soon I walked into the restaurant, and even if I hadn’t, I would’ve heard my father’s unmistakable laugh, which was similar to mine.

You laugh with your whole self, Gigi.

My mother raised a graceful hand as soon as she saw me. I told the maître d’ I was here with a party, and they walked me toward my parents, who already had a bottle of wine open and breathing.

“Mi reina.” My father opened his arms and Iwalked into them, sinking into the hug, soaking him in. He kissed my cheek and frowned. “You have bags under your eyes. Are you working too hard?”

My mother turned me to face her and tutted me. “Reggie, you do have bags under your eyes. Are you wearing the eye cream I sent you?”

Mama had a penchant for expensive makeup brands, and she bought enough to share with her daughter and daughter-in-law. My brother Carlos’s wife, Genevive, appreciated it more than I did, which she told me was because she was French and had good taste, unlike me, who was American. I had stuck my tongue out at her for that comment.

Carlos was a diplomat like my father had been, and Genie was an administrator for Médecins Sans Frontières. They both lived in Brussels, so we didn’t see them often, though Genie, Mama, and I were on the Sanchez Girls WhatsApp Group, which was how we kept in touch.

“Mama, sometimes even La Mer can’t convert bags into beauty,” I told her as I sat on the chair my father pulled out for me. “Especially when I have a double shift.”

“Genie works all the time; she has time for eye makeup.” Mama’s eyes crinkled as she poured me a glass of wine. “But then you never sit still; you didn’t, even in the womb.”

“That’s because she gets it from you, Anna,” Papainterjected. “You know, Reggie, your mother curated ten shows in six months the year you were born?”

“Yes, Papa, I know.” This was an old favorite story of my father’s.

“I was also the only pregnant woman on the Upper East Side who had to convince a gallery owner to light an installation on fire for authenticity,” my mother showed off.

I laughed, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could exhale.

This was my grounding force—my parents.

My father, Ignacio Sanchez, was a former diplomat turned quiet philanthropist, and Mama was a retired art curator. They’d been married for forty years, now lived in San Miguel de Allende in a restored colonial home, and spent their time funding mobile clinics and arts education programs throughout Mexico.

We were close. I talked to them every week. But this—dinner, in person, laughing with wine in our hands and no pager clipped to my waistband—this wasprecious. I had done the double shift so I wouldn’t be on call when I was out with my parents.

We looked through the menu and ordered.

“Now, tell me the truth. How are things?” Papa asked when Mama went to the restroom.

“Good.”

He regarded me thoughtfully. “You’re not okay. I felt it when we spoke last week.”

“Is that why you’re here now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But Anna missed her parents and your uncle.”

“I heard from Uncle Jason.” I changed the topic. “He wanted me to look at some charity thing they’re doing at the bank with a clinic in the Bronx.”

My Uncle Jason ran the family business, which was banking. My grandfather had hoped that my mother would also work in banking, but Mama was an art lover.

When Mama returned to the table, we all fell into our roles, comfortable and pleasant.

“I spoke to your grandmother last week,” my mother told me as she delicately sliced into a scallop. “Mum is still convinced you should’ve gone to med school.”

My grandmother, Faye was from England and hence Mama called her Mum and I called her G’Mum.

“G’Mum is full of it.” I speared a piece of steak.

“Carlos and Genie said they will be stateside for Christmas.” Papa picked up his glass of red. “But they’re not so keen on New York.”

---