Someday, Somehow

by Claudia Burgoa

  I groan. “It’s no big deal.”

  He stops walking, giving me that soft-sad, serious gleam he gets in his eye whenever he’s about to lecture me about my self-worth.

  “Hey,” he says gently. “You worked hard for those grades. Any employer would be lucky to have a qualified candidate like you.”

  “I know, Dad,” I say.

  He doesn’t let up. “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I state firmly.

  It just doesn’t change the fact that I don’t think I want to be hired by any of them, I think.

  At least knowing that my heart’s not in it helps me feel like less of a fraud in my own life. Fuck yeah, I work my ass off for the grades and accomplishments I have.

  His eyebrows screw together like he knows I’m not telling him the whole story. But really, is there time to unpack three years’ worth of imposter syndrome and making “smart” decisions just for the sake of being safe when there’s people waiting in his car?

  “We should get going,” I say. “I’m sure Jamie’s buzzing out of her skin to get going.”

  “Fine,” he says. “But we’re talking about this later.”

  I sigh. Guess I should have seen this coming.

  Fourteen

  George

  While I was home last summer, Dad mentioned visiting me for the holidays. That’s right after I said, I’m going to be working part-time for the Beltrans. Maybe I’ll stay there for Christmas and New Year’s.

  He offered me money, if I needed extra. It’s not about the pay—though, I accept it lovingly. Who likes to work for free?

  The thing is, I crave being around the big, beautiful industrial kitchen, learning everything I can about food. However, working at Ene’s brings another problem. I usually stay either at Auggie’s or at his family’s house for the night. During winter break, I won’t be spending much time at home and my roommates might not be comfortable having to entertain Dad while I’m at work.

  “What’s the issue exactly?” Auggie asks me on a work break in October.

  I look over at the soup station where the entremetier is plating the restaurant’s seasonal interpretation of pozole. Maybe I’m so drawn to this restaurant because it’s the most Mexican culture I’ve ever been around. Sure, Arizona has a Mexican population, but that was never part of my story.

  Abuela doesn’t judge me for not knowing what pan dulces are or never having tried tamales before. She just treats me like a Mexican and explains the shit I don’t get without batting an eye. It’s not just about the comfort food...it’s like this place is feeding my soul.

  I stretch, cracking my neck as I do. “Dad’s gotten better at being a boss since he’s expanded his business. He’s better at delegating and taking time off and shit.”

  “But he’s still a workaholic?” Auggie says.

  “Tell him what he’s won, Brian,” I say into a pen as if it were a mic. “How am I supposed to get him to relax for once? Let me take care of him instead of the other way around.”

  “George, where do you normally spend the holidays when you’re not in Arizona?”

  “With your fa—oh, okay,” I say, sputtering. “Didn’t know the open invitation extended to my dad.”

  Auggie snorts. “I think Abue would never let you live it down if you stopped her from giving your dad a traditional Mexican Christmas.”

  I giggle. Auggie gets how weird I am about imposing. He’s just so good at easing my nerves.

  “If you’re sure it’s alright,” I say.

  Auggie rolls his eyes with that dumb smirk he gets whenever he’s about to embarrass me.

  “Hey, Abue, George is bringing her dad for Christmas!” he shouts across the room. “Would you be okay with it?”

  “Of course!” Abuela shouts back.

  I frown. “Abuela, are you sure—”

  “You’re a good daughter, mi reina. We’re ecstatic to meet him.”

  ✩✩✩

  Is it me or time flies when you’re not paying enough attention? Only a few weeks back I was on the phone with Dad, explaining to him our holiday plans. Now, I’m dragging Auggie through the airport.

  Somehow, picking up my dad from the airport is more nerve-wracking than the other way around. What if he doesn’t like it here? Colorado or staying with this family who’ve taken me in as their own.

  What if he thinks I should move home after graduation?

  Ugh, graduation is a whole different problem. I haven’t thought about what I’m doing after graduation. Okay, so I’ve gone on a few interviews that have been fine but none of them have turned up an offer yet. Also, I hate every job that comes my way and that’s probably killing me in the interviews.

  I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next year of my life...but it’s fine.

  It’ll be...fine.

  “There he is,” Auggie says as he waves him over.

  Dad walks with the kind of grace and confidence I wish I had in every part of my life. He’s so comfortable with who he is and what he can offer people. It always blows me away how amazing my dad is.

  And his hugs are still the best, I realize as he holds me tight. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the feeling of missing him. Even when he’s there, I just want us to have more time.

  Dad lets go after a long moment. He gestures to Auggie for a moment before I realize they haven’t been introduced. Right, that’s my job.

  “Oh, uh, this is—”

  “Agustin Beltran, good to meet you, sir,” he says as he offers Dad a handshake.

  “Elijah Jones, you can call me Eli,” Dad says before pulling Auggie into a hug. “Nice to finally meet the infamous Auggie.”

  “Thanks, uh, same,” Auggie says, blushing and flustered.

  The drive back to Auggie’s place is awesome, easy. The snow is still fresh on the fields but already melted from the asphalt. It’s not too cold and the chatter in the car is better than I could’ve imagined. Their conversation flows so easily, like they’ve known each other for years. Of course, my two favorite people get along. I don’t know what I was worried about.

  Christmas Eve itself goes off without a hitch. The decorations are gorgeous. The twins keep their promise and don’t hassle my dad (much). Auggie’s stoic abuelo says more than five words; and everyone has a really good time. My dad and Diego even get a good rapport between themselves.

  The tree is taller than the ceilings at my place. It’s so breathtaking as the soft lights and champagne color scheme lavish the tree on all sides. Christmas Eve dinner is stupendous, and the night overall is a calm affair. Tomorrow, when the extended Beltran family arrives, things will be mass chaos.

  “I really want to thank you all for taking my daughter in,” Dad says over dessert. “I wasn’t sure about her living so far away with no family around. But a little into her first semester she was telling me all about this boy she was friends with, and all the home cooked meals she was getting.”

  “That sounds like Auggie, alright,” Cat says, ignoring Auggie’s glaring.

  “I was a bit apprehensive at first,” Dad continues, “I was convinced that Auggie was just putting the moves on her—”

  “Dad!” I complain as Auggie says, “I would never—”

  “Relax, that’s what I’m saying,” Dad interrupts us. “You two have a wonderful friendship. That’s powerful and I hope you cherish it.”

  Auggie acts a little strange after that speech, getting kind of quiet and bashful even. But it doesn’t bother me because I’m too distracted thinking about how right Dad is. Life here has been wild.

  There have been so many ups and downs. Even through the bad friends, shitty relationships, and terrible boys, I’ve always had Auggie. He’s one of the most important people in my life, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.

  Fifteen

  George

  Sitting at my own graduation is more disappointing than I expected it to be. The cap and gown bobby-pinned to my hair is more concrete than my future
at the moment. Yes, college is one of the best experiences of my life thus far. I’ve made some incredible friends, and I’ve fallen in love with a different piece of the country.

  I’ve grown so much as a person in the past few years. But I still don’t know what I want or where I’m going in life. I know I was able to get an entry level account manager position at a mid-level sales firm close to Auggie’s home.

  I know I’ll be doing a lot of business to business customer service, consulting, and they’ll probably ‘volunteer’ me into doing some web data analytics every now and then. It pays enough and I know I can be good at it.

  Am I prepared for another few years of puttering by as I fill my time with something I don’t love?

  Absolutely not.

  I spent two and a half years trying to convince myself to take a leap of faith. I never changed majors and I rarely took classes I enjoyed over classes that sounded ‘practical.’

  I wasted too much time in college being scared of what adulthood is going to be outside of school. And now that it’s here? I’m too exhausted to care. I don’t want this idly getting by to be the rest of my life...but I don’t know if my distaste for being stagnant is greater than my fear of financial instability.

  As the commencement speaker rambles on about taking chances and having integrity, I think there’s some merit to his words. I don’t want to wait for my life to happen to me.

  I want to make this world my own. Am I up for the challenge?

  ✩✩✩

  Auggie

  The Ritchie Center is full. By the looks of the crowd, you’d think they are waiting for some great event. Every eye is plastered on us or the big screens, waiting for our names to be announced so they can celebrate and make noise. I can’t believe just two years ago I was graduating from college and now I have a master’s degree—and no clue about the real world.

  Everyone is here to cheer on a family member or friend. This is where you get your big break, the start of your future. Become someone who, as they kept telling us for the past couple of years, will lead the country.

  Are we ready for this shit show?

  I’d love to say that I was always born ready.

  Not the case. The shit is getting real. Dad’s expecting even more from me. My tasks are increasing as of June. I have a couple of weeks to slum it, as he said the other day. More like to get my entire life together.

  “Hey, cutie!” the guy next to me screams and I turn to see who he’s talking to. A toddler is waving at him frantically and the wife is next to her waving too.

  Fuck, this guy has children and probably a wife—or a girlfriend. See that’s yet another new thing going around my friends, acquaintances, and colleagues.

  Engagements, marriages, and some others are even sending me baby announcements.

  As for me, I don’t even have a girlfriend. Who wants to spend their time with one woman trying to make her happy? That’s not my scene.

  My dad tried too hard with my mother and at the end, she left without giving us another glance. Bringing a child into a world where adults hurt each other because they can’t seem to be happy isn’t in my future.

  After all the women I’ve dated, I learned why Dad stayed single all these years.

  Who needs a girlfriend when I have one of the best friends a guy could have? If there’s anyone I can count on, it’s George. She understands me, gives me space, and it’s just so easy to be around her.

  “There he is!” I hear someone yell. “Auggie!”

  When I turn, I see Cat waving at me, and right next to her is George waving and smiling proudly.

  I wave back.

  “Your girlfriend?” the guy next to me asks.

  “Nah, my sister and my best friend,” I answer.

  He nods.

  My phone buzzes.

  George: I was going to bring a big sign to cheer you up, but Dad stopped me.

  I search around and spot her dad next to mine. My grandparents are sitting by Ben.

  Auggie: You brought everyone?

  George: Of course, we did! It’s your graduation.

  Auggie: At least my aunts and uncles aren’t here. You know I love them, but I’m not up for a big party. Not after your graduation.

  George: Let’s try to be grateful.

  I slam my hand against my head. How many times did I tell Grandma that I didn’t want a party?

  Auggie: Please, no.

  George: We’ll take breaks. Does that work?

  Auggie: As long as you’re nearby, I’ll stay at the party.

  George: Silence your phone and put it away. I’ll be the one cheering from here. Cat says smile.

  Sixteen

  Auggie

  “What the fuck am I doing with my life?” I groan.

  “I thought that was my line,” George says next to me.

  Laughing, I take a sip of my beer.

  We’re sitting by the patio, in front of the fire pit enjoying some tapas and the night. This backyard is our safe haven when life gets too much to deal with. She loves it just as much as I do. It helps that George picked this place out while she was still in college.

  I knew that I didn’t want to move out of here for a while and that I either needed more storage space or needed a room for my best friend to eventually become my roommate. We’re flipping the old home. Making it into a duplex that we can lease to grad students or teachers.

  Our patio is a nice blend of George’s eye for design and my party sensibilities. It’s big enough for a small grill, plush outdoor seating, and plenty of Christmas lights. George lets me pretend the Christmas lights were her idea. It saves a lot of time when friends come over.

  Post-college life is hectic. Sometimes it’s hard for us to schedule time to hang out. Fortunately, we occasionally get some good luck. Like whenever George’s boyfriend, Sean, is out of town on business. Which fortunately happens to be this week, thank goodness. It’s been a while.

  She nudges me. “Well, spill, Beltran. What’s got you down?”

  Everything is the short version.

  The long version is I’m not sure about my life’s path. I have no clue how I’m supposed to start running restaurants. Or how and why one day I’ll be expected to take over the family business. I can’t handle one restaurant...how do they know I can handle a large group of restaurants?

  Staring at another starry Colorado night, I can’t help how small I feel in the midst of it all. Or how tight my throat feels. What if I fuck up so hard I destroy my dad’s life’s work?

  What are my options here?

  I’ll barely get by until someone buys my dad’s pride and joy off or run my dad’s pride and joy long enough to see it become a laughing-stock?

  Maybe I could just wait until Cat and Ben are old enough and then I can pass this business onto them. I could still help as a silent partner or something. They’re more competent than I am, that’s for sure.

  But no...I can’t do that to them. I don’t want to shove the weight of the family legacy onto them.

  “I’m not confident...about anything,” I say.

  “You know I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself,” she says quietly. “That was three years ago.”

  “But you were right,” I say.

  She takes a sip of her beer. “About what?”

  “There’s everything to freak out about. I just...didn’t want to think about it,” I say.

  “Okay, so we opened Pandora’s Box,” she says.

  I take another swig of beer. “I think it was open. But I did...a really good job of ignoring it.”

  “Well, it took this long for you to say something, so yeah, you’re good at ignoring shit,” George says.

  I laugh. “You’re so nice to me.”

  “You don’t want nice,” she says with a smirk that falters after a moment. “Auggie, you’re good, okay? Like really, stupidly good at running restaurants. Your cooking is better, but you have what it takes to manage not only one but every restaur
ant your dad owns. It’s not just about the business side, but the people. The employees like you and think you’re fair. The waitress turnaround is high in most places, not in your dad’s restaurants. You guys are good to your people. You’re good.”

  How can she have so much faith in me?

  “But how do you know—”

  “Auggie, you can’t be this dense,” she says. “You’ve been running Abuela’s restaurant for how long?”

  “I haven’t—”

  “Who closes up almost every night?” she asks, glaring.

  “Me,” I say.

  “And who does the books? And who has all but completely taken over the hiring process and who—”

  “Fine, point taken,” I grumble into my beer bottle.

  She smiles at me sadly. She puts down her beer and opens her arms up for a hug.

  “Come here, big guy,” she says.

  Her hugs are so good, it should be criminal. She has the perfect arm-span to told me tight. It’s also a combination of good squeeze-to-gentle ratio and she knows how to nudge me into the crook of her neck in a way that’s so...comforting, for lack of a better word.

  Warm, even.

  I could get lost in the way George makes the bad shit unimportant. In the way she turns every bad thing upside down and right side up.

  “You’re so hard on yourself,” she says. “But you move heaven and earth for the things and people you care about. You love your family and the restaurants. The rest will figure itself out.”

  “What if I hate it? What if I crumble under the pressure?” I ask.

  “I won’t let you do that, okay?” George says. “If you stop loving what you do, I’ll tell you and make you quit.”

  That’s the thing, George knows me better than anyone. She might even know me better than I know myself. Trusting her is as easy as breathing—I learned how and now I’ll never stop.