Here to Stay

by Adriana Herrera

  “Thanks for the gift, babe. I feel so fancy. I’m loving this designer. Yours is gorg too,” she said, gesturing to my red empire dress. Christmas Eve dinner at a Dominican/Puerto Rican household was no joke. No one other than our family and Alba’s was going to be here, but I still had to look like we were going to dinner at the Waldorf.

  Alba stared at me a little longer than what was comfortable and then brought her gaze down to my phone, which I was still clutching to my chest.

  “You look happy, friend. You’re glowing a little bit.” She pursed her lips, her dark brown eyes staring at me over her red-framed glasses. “How’s the job and the new friends? You’ve barely talked about Dallas at all.”

  I lifted a shoulder and pocketed my phone in case another text from Rocco showed up. He’d developed this new thing where he sent me super NSFW messages. My face felt hot thinking about the dozens of messages where he detailed the many ways he was going to use his tongue and his teeth on my body.

  “Yoooooo. That’s pretty damn close to an O face you’re making there, Julia del Mar... What are you getting up to down South?”

  “What?” Acting dumb was not going to help in the slightest, so I pivoted. “So Vicki is still highly problematic and I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with her.”

  Alba’s eye roll let me know she was well aware of my tactics but she settled into the bed and turned so she could face me. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’d she do now?”

  “She’s still being super inappropriate with the clients.”

  “You look spooked, babe. What’s going on?”

  “Just thinking of worst-case scenarios, which honestly are all plausible. It’s just a matter of time before she brings the entire foundation down with her. My boss, Gail, promised me she’d take care of it, but we need Vicki and her connections. It’s extremely fucked up that she can get away with being this unprofessional.”

  “Good thing that you don’t need to stick around if shit hits the fan.” She sounded flippant, but I knew she was trying to goad me into admitting I was staying put in Dallas.

  I gave her the side-eye she was after and took my phone out again to check if Rocco had texted me...because I was obsessed with him. Instead there was a message from Tariq on the Exiles chat.

  Tariq: Feliz Nochebuena, Exiliados. Rocco too, since you speak Spanish and it’s too late to exchange you for a Latinx dude! JK We’ll keep you. Mad Love from Houston.

  He sent a photo of himself smiling wide in a hideous Christmas sweater that looked amazing contrasted against his ebony skin. Also noteworthy? None other than José was in the picture, and he looked ecstatic to be there.

  From my side, Alba whistled. “Dayum, you didn’t say your Dallas friends were that hot. Fuuuuuck. I’d put up with some shit for that.” She circled her finger over Tariq’s face on the screen.

  I chuckled and shook my head as I tapped a response. “Sorry, Tariq plays exclusively for Team Gay.” I cracked up at her devastated expression. “Actually, he seems to have a serious crush on José.”

  She nodded. “Don’t blame him, he’s gorgeous too. Speaking of hot and geographically convenient... How’s Rocco Fucking Quinn? I know you’re avoiding talking about him with me. And don’t think I don’t know you two are fucking. Your neck’s all red.”

  I balked at that. “I do not blush.” I pointed at my face. “I am brown.”

  She shook her head like I was a lost cause. “You’re light-skinned is what you are and you’re avoiding talking about this dude. I mean, come on. He’s single, has a super-good job, and is thirsting after your ass. If you’re not fucking him, then I don’t know if our friendship means anything.”

  “Good Lord, you’re a lot.” I held up a hand, about to say something dismissive or that gave levity to what Rocco and I were doing, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t make it less. I could not make him less than what he was to me, than what he’d become.

  I closed my eyes and held my breath, just for a second, before letting it out. I felt Alba’s hand on my shoulder, but she didn’t speak. If anyone knew the turmoil I was in over this, it was my best friend.

  “I like him, Alba. A lot. He’s—”

  Her usually flinty eyes were soft and kind when I looked at her.

  “He’s so good to me. In bed and outside of it, we just fit, but I can’t derail my life again. Not this soon. It hasn’t even been a full year. I can’t throw myself into another guy and change course. I can’t do it. I wasted too much time on Matt.”

  Alba’s face hardened at the mention of my ex.

  “I’m not going to push on this right now because I know we’re about to go to dinner, and you don’t need to look like someone died when we go out to hang with your fam. But we need to talk about this before you go back, Julia. I don’t think reconsidering or adjusting your plan is ‘derailing your life for a man,’ babe. I really don’t.”

  I hiked an eyebrow up, “Would you do it?”

  She smiled ruefully at me, because she knew I had her there. Alba’s MO was “hit it and quit it,” so she was not the one to talk about commitment. “A, you’re not me. B, you can’t go by what I’d do. I’m a heartless bitch who will probably die alone.”

  “I had a first-row seat to seeing you help raise your three sisters, so spare me your heartlessness. I know you’re full of shit.”

  We both laughed at that and I tried to change the subject, again.

  “I talked to Judith yesterday. We met for coffee.” Judith had been my supervisor at my old job.

  Alba lifted an eyebrow, as if asking why she should care. I loved her but she could be such a bitch. “You’re so fucking salty, all the time.”

  “Why is this news? You guys always got along really well, so having coffee with her is not exactly breaking news.”

  I threw my hands up. “Fine. Oh my God. She told me I could have my job back.” I shrugged, still not sure how I felt about this possibility. “The person they hired ended up relocating when his spouse got a job on the West Coast, so they’re just going to have a couple of people fill in for the rest of the school year and do a search in May.”

  And the possibility of being here, close to Rocco, was appealing, but right underneath was the fact that I wanted to stay in Dallas. Fuck, I wasn’t even sure if going back to New York was right for him either, but I couldn’t come up with a whole new life plan for the two of us. No, I would not play myself like that. Not again.

  “Uh-huh.” Alba’s tone was a perfect match to my level of enthusiasm. “Julia, you can do long distance. You can ask him if he wants to move there for you. There are other options, and you voicing them to him, asking for what you want, isn’t unreasonable or needy.”

  But Rocco had never expressed he wanted that. No, from the get-go his one goal was to get his sister settled in the New York City suburbs. The idea of baring my soul to him, asking him to stay in Dallas for me, was terrifying—almost as terrifying as things ending between us.

  “I don’t want to be the pathetic girlfriend who gets left behind again. Or worse, the one that’s not worth a change of plans.”

  Alba sat up then and hugged me tight. Her voice was fierce when she whispered in my ear. “Stop that shit. You have never been pathetic. Your ex is just a scrub who never deserved you and I hope that chick wised up and is cheating on him with half his firm as we speak.”

  I laughed at that and then sighed, sinking into my friend’s strong embrace.

  “If Rocco is any kind of man, he’ll know that you’re not only worth keeping, he’ll know you’re worth sacrificing everything for. Hell, I’d snatch you up if I didn’t know how gross you get when you have a cold.”

  I let go and shoved her gently. “Stop making me laugh.”

  “Dude, I’m still not fully recovered from when you used old shirts for tissues that time.” She shuddered and touched my face. “Lita, you need to
be where you’re happy. New York will always be here if you want to come back. And those of us who can’t live without your whiny ass will always be there no matter where you go, babe.”

  I nodded, still laughing as I slid off the bed. “Thanks, Albita.”

  As we left the room and made our way downstairs, I considered Alba’s words. The problem was my dream job was in Dallas and my dream man was going back to New York. No matter what I chose, I would end up missing something that right now felt essential.

  Rocco

  I stood at the entrance to my parents’ house and felt like my bones were trying to shrink themselves. Like they knew that to survive the next few hours without losing my temper, I’d have to make myself invisible. It was a rainy and gloomy Christmas Day, no snow, but overcast. I looked around the porch of their little single-family and it made me so fucking sad. The front door was chipped and there was a piece of plywood nailed to the bottom covering up a hole. The yard was scraggly and overgrown. Nothing about this place seemed inviting or warm.

  It never had been.

  I shuddered at the idea of my little niece trying to play in this place, growing up around my parents and their drinking. I heard her voice inside calling for Sofia, such a happy noise in all this desolation. I rang the bell, determined to make it through this dinner and help make it a good Christmas for Blue and my sister.

  After a moment, the door opened and my father stood in the dim light. His face so much like mine, same chin and nose. His hair a shade lighter and now streaked with gray, but still so similar. I was always surprised to find that he was still imposing, even with all the years of hard drinking and the ever-present bitterness he carried around.

  “Pop.”

  His face hardened at my greeting. “I thought you wouldn’t show. That you sent your fancy catering and wouldn’t even bother coming to see your mother.”

  Just his voice made my pulse race. I tried hard to relax. Remember that I could not control what my father did, but I could choose how I reacted to him.

  I smiled and lifted a shopping bag with the things I’d brought for everyone. “Merry Christmas. I brought Mom’s cookies.”

  He blinked, not sure how to react to my not taking the bait. I was not going to push my way into the house, so we were just standing there staring at each other when Sofia came up to the door, carrying Blue in her arms. My niece was dressed in one of the cute dresses Julia helped me pick out for her.

  “Rocco! You’re here.” She waved her hand and looked at our father, who was still not moving. “Come in.”

  I walked inside with Blue perched on my arm and saw my mother in her usual spot in front of the TV. She was dressed in a red pantsuit and her hair was combed back into a bun. She even had some makeup on, but she looked old.

  “Ma.” She looked up at me and her eyes were glassy, not completely focused. I noticed she was gripping a glass of what looked like ginger ale, but was most likely a Seven and Seven.

  “Rocco, you’re here.” I put the baby down on a blanket that was covered with some toys and took my parka off before going over to give her a hug. She smelled like cigarettes, but also like the lavender lotion she always used. I closed my eyes and felt her skinny frame. My mother had a tough life, I knew that. But I could only be responsible for my own life. I could no longer take on my mother and father’s choices. I didn’t even have it in me to judge her.

  “It’s good to see you, Ma,” I said, trying to genuinely smile for her. Show her I could still see all of her, not just what was left after forty years of surviving my father’s anger.

  “You too, baby. It was so nice of you to get dinner.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand around the living room. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two. Sofia came and cleaned today and you got dinner. My kids turned out good despite everything.” The regret in her voice just then, that’s what kept me tethered to this place.

  My father walked into the kitchen, and from the living room I could see him preparing another drink for himself from the handle of Seagram’s he had on the counter. I bet he’d opened that this morning and it was almost half-empty.

  “Quit acting like he did some big thing, Marie. He pressed three buttons on that phone of his. Least he could do is pay for a meal, since he doesn’t do a damn thing to help us otherwise.”

  My shoulders tensed, but I ignored my father’s taunts. This was what he did—as soon as I walked through that door, everything out of his mouth was intended to get a rise out of me.

  Sofia walked by my father, her hands full with a pan of lasagna. “Leave him alone, Billy. Rocco’s a good brother and a great uncle to Blue.”

  His eyes were practically slits as he looked at me from the kitchen sucking on his drink. Sofia came back from the dining room and sat on the couch next to me. She reached over to tap our mother on the leg. “Ma, did you see what Rocco brought you?” she asked, pulling out the Italian wedding cookies I’d gotten for her.

  My mother took her eyes off the TV for a minute and focused on the box, then looked at me. “You got my cookies.” She turned her head toward where my dad was standing. “Did you see that, Billy? Rocco got the cookies, from Joe’s. My son always takes care of me.” That was a jab at my dad, and one he would not take well.

  He walked out of the kitchen, a drink in each hand, primed for a fight with my mom, but making sure he gave her a drink first. Had to make sure she was plastered all day, so he could point at her whenever anyone mentioned his drinking.

  He bypassed Blue, who was sitting on a blanket playing a game on the iPad I’d gotten her for her birthday. Her red-and-green dress and cute tight curls, so dissonant with the drab and depressing room.

  “He takes care of you?” my father asked, pointing a finger at me after he’d handed my mom her fresh drink. “He doesn’t give a shit about you. He’s looking for a way to get himself and his sister as far away from you as possible.” He scoffed at my mother’s crestfallen face.

  “He’s ashamed of us. Thinks we’re ‘bad for the baby.’ Fucking nerve. Who do you think put up with this one?” He waved a hand at my sister, who was again on the move setting up the table and avoiding eye contact with my father at all costs. “Huh? Who dealt with her when she was whoring around and skipping school?”

  I stood up, ready to tell him that if Sofia was running the streets and acting out it was because she couldn’t cope with this house and their bullshit, but like always, my sister put herself right in between my father and me.

  “Food’s ready. Let’s eat.” She put her hand on my shoulder and looked over at the baby, who was eerily unbothered by the screaming adults in the room. “Rocco, why don’t you help me get Blue settled in her booster seat. There are bibs in the bag by the door.” She smiled affectionately at her little girl, but the point was made. We were going to act like everything was fine to get through this meal.

  “If not she’ll get red gravy all over her new dress. Right, baby?” She walked over to Blue and picked her up. Walking away from my father and me like a zoo trainer trying to distract two tigers from ripping each other’s throats out.

  She came back and handed me the baby, while she got busy coaxing my mom out of the chair. My father just stood there seething. Waiting for any excuse to lunge.

  I got Blue buckled in her seat and carried out a pitcher of water from the kitchen while Sofia helped my mom to the table. My stomach turned as I watched her stumble around in the living room, drunk and disoriented. I closed my eyes, feeling sick. I hated that being around my family made me so miserable. I fucking hated that my father was right. I was embarrassed that this was what our family holidays were like. I thought about Thanksgiving dinner and being with Julia’s family. Being here now, with my stomach tight with tension. Every muscle in my body prepared to fight or run.

  As we sat down, Sofia made a big deal about saying grace and I just went with it. Hoping we’d g
et through this meal without one of my father’s explosions.

  “This looks so good, Rocco. I can’t believe you got it from Triangolo. You know I love the pasta with the frutti di mare and the branzino for the Seven Fishes.” For the first time since I’d gotten here, I saw my mom’s smile. She looked so pleased with the food. “And the antipasti. Sofia baby, give me some of the sopressata, the spicy one.” She reached over and touched my cheek. “You got all your mama’s favorites, Rocco.”

  “I’m glad you like it, Ma.” I looked over at my dad and he was back to staring at me from narrowed eyes, hand gripping his drink.

  As we passed platters around, I tried to work past the knot in my throat and put some food on my plate.

  “How was breakfast, Rocco? Did you go to that place you like with the Britos?” As soon as the words were out of Sofia’s mouth, I knew there would be trouble. My dad immediately leaned forward in his chair, sucking his teeth.

  “Oh, you went and saw ‘The Coach’ first. Figures, we would be sloppy seconds.” He turned to my mother. “Aren’t you glad your son made time for you after he was done kissing up to that meddling jerk-off?”

  Sofia looked at me, an “I’m sorry” written all over her face. I shook my head and said nothing as my father ran his mouth.

  Looking a little more sober after eating some food, my mother just shook her head at my father. “Leave him alone, Billy. He doesn’t kiss anyone’s ass; the Britos love Rocco, and they did a lot for him.” Her face looked pained and in that moment I could read in her face all the regret that my mother numbed herself from with alcohol and pills.

  “They did a lot more for him than we ever did.” She touched my hand and gave me another watery smile. “Look at him. He’s such a good man. Successful, a consultant.”