Page 118 of A Lot Like Adiós
“Yeah. It was—yeah.”
While his mom cleaned his kitchen, Gabe went into his bedroom and pulled fresh bedding down from the closet. He didn’t know what else to do. His parents were in his apartment for the first time ever, and of course it was the only time his place was a mess. But since he wasn’t going to tell them to leave or stay in a hotel, the only thing to do was make his bed for them. His dad came in a moment later and, without a word, helped him change the sheets and pillowcases.
While flipping the comforter back over the bed, Esteban winced and rubbed his left shoulder like it pained him.
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
His dad waved it off. “Es nada. I’m just getting old.” His words held a trace of humor, but the corners of his mouth were pinched.
Gabe knew what someone in pain looked like, but he let it slide. For now.
Instead, he went back out to the living room to retrieve his parents’ suitcases. Then he ducked into the bathroom and picked up all his dirty clothes before his mom could see them. While he was at it, he also replaced the hand towels and wiped down the sink too.
In the kitchen, he found his mother cooking chicken in a pan.
“What are you doing?”
“Making dinner,” she replied, like it was obvious. “It’s evening for us.”
Sure enough, his father was already setting the table—something that had been Gabe’s job when he was young.
The scene was so... normal. Somehow, it felt natural for hisparents to be in his space, even though they’d never been here before, and he’d hardly spoken to them in a decade. They’d shown up on his doorstep in Los Angeles and picked up right where they’d left off.
No, not where they’d left off. This was worlds better than it used to be.
All this time, Gabe had been feeling like he had nothing without the gym, because the life he’d built was falling apart. But maybe that wasn’t true.
Many years ago, he’d cut his parents out of his life to save himself. And while he was a firm believer in upholding healthy boundaries against toxic people, even if those people were related by blood, he could acknowledge that he’d also done it to hurt them. But in doing so, he’d hurt himself too. He’d distanced himself from his family, but he’d never put down the anger, the pain, the validation-seeking. All this time, he’d been carrying those around with him. Wasn’t it time he put that shit down?
Maybe this was the wound that was healing.
Not everyone got these kinds of second chances. Some families started out dysfunctional and stayed dysfunctional. But ever since running into his dad in the condom aisle, Gabe had wondered if his parents had changed enough for him to give them another chance.
Ifhe’dchanged enough to give them a second chance.
Esteban went into the bedroom and came back holding a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
Gabe stared. “Did you bring that from New York?”
His father gave him a bland look. “No, your friend gave it to us when he picked us up.”
Fabian really was the best friend a guy could ask for. He would’ve known Gabe didn’t keep alcohol on hand, so he’d gifted them a bottle. Gabe could imagine his parents arriving at the airport, having come all this way and not knowing what kind of reception they’d receive, and how much it would have meant to them that Fabian not only picked them up, but brought them a present.
“Gabriel, ¿dónde están los vasos de vino?” his mother called from the kitchen.
Gabe didn’t have wine, but he did own a few wineglasses, leftovers from his relationship with weekend-getaway-obsessed Olivia. He pointed to the correct cabinet, and his mother waved his father over to reach the glasses, which were on a high shelf.
Esteban reached for the glasses, then hissed in pain and jerked his arm back down.
“Coño,” he muttered, rubbing his left shoulder.
“You have to remember to reach with your right hand,” Norma reminded him.
“I can’t help it. I’m left-handed.”
“Papi, why don’t you let me work on your shoulder?” Gabe offered, moving into the kitchen and taking down the wineglasses himself. “There’s no reason to live in pain if you don’t have to.”
“I don’t want to trouble you,” Esteban insisted.
