January 2010
The news about the firefighters came by text message, like almost everything in those days.
Alex: "Firefighters came to my house last night. My dad thought he was dying. Turns out he had a kidney stone."
Me: "Firefighters? Is everyone okay?"
Alex: "My dad's fine. My mom put on high heels to receive them. Haley said she looked like a fifteen-year-old at her graduation party. My dad found out and didn't talk to my mom for three hours."
Me: "And what did you do?"
Alex: "Watched. As always. You?"
Me: "My parents have a work dinner. I'm staying with Gloria and Jay. Manny is with his dad, Javier."
Alex: "Ah. Good luck with that."
Me: "Is it that bad?"
Alex: "It's not bad, it's... complicated. My grandfather hates him. But then they went off to play pool until late. It was weird."
Me: "Weird good or weird bad?"
Alex: "I don't know yet. Let me know how it ends."
I put the phone away. My parents were in the kitchen, finishing getting ready for dinner. My mom wore a black dress she hadn't worn since the move, and Mark had put on the shirt he only wore for job interviews.
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Mom asked, adjusting her earrings in front of the mirror.
"They're your work people. I don't know anyone."
"You can meet new people."
"I'd rather stay with Manny. I haven't seen him in weeks."
Mark and Susan exchanged a look. "Okay," Mark said. "But we're leaving you with Gloria. She's picking us up at ten."
"Why can't you leave me alone?"
"Because we don't want you to be alone. And because Gloria offered."
I didn't say anything. Deep down, I knew it wasn't just about me. It was about Alex. Because if I stayed home, I'd be on my phone all night, waiting for her messages. And they knew it.
8:00 PM - Jay's House
Jay Pritchett's house was everything I expected from a man who had built a closet empire: big, orderly, with furniture that looked like it came from a catalog, and a smell of new leather that hadn't faded yet. But that night, something was out of place. In the center of the entrance, leaning against the stairs, was a motorcycle. It wasn't new. It had rust marks on the exhaust, and the seat was worn from use. But it was there, like a wild animal that had entered without permission.
Gloria greeted me at the door with a hug that lasted longer than necessary and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Leo, so glad you came. You're sleeping in the guest room. It has its own bathroom, TV, everything you need."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pritchett."
"Gloria. I've told you."
Jay appeared behind her with a beer in his hand and an expression I couldn't tell was distrust or fatigue. "The robotics kid?"
"The same," I said.
"Ah." He nodded, as if that explained everything. "Manny's in the living room with his father, Javier. He arrived yesterday."
He said the name like it was a bitter taste. Gloria gently hit his arm.
"Jay. Be nice."
"I am nice. I'm just saying who's in my house."
"You say it like he's a thief."
"I didn't say that."
"You said it with your face."
Jay grunted something I couldn't understand and went into the living room. I stayed with Gloria, who took my arm and led me inside.
"Javier is Manny's father," she said quietly. "He's a good person. But Jay has a hard time accepting him because Javier is everything Jay isn't: messy, spontaneous, unpredictable. And because Manny loves him."
"And that's bad?"
"It's complicated. Manny has two fathers who love him. But they love him in different ways. And sometimes Manny doesn't know how to love them both without one feeling less."
In the living room, the scene was strange. Jay sat in the main armchair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the off TV. Manny sat on the floor with his father Javier beside him, looking at a photo album they had taken from the bookshelf. Javier was tall, dark, with a smile that seemed rehearsed and eyes that had seen too much. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that didn't match anything, with a black leather jacket, and he spoke with his hands.
"This one was in Triple-A," he said, pointing to a photo. "We were in Albuquerque. It was so hot it would melt your shoes. But that day, McGwire hit three home runs. Three. I've never seen anything like it."
"Did you play too?" Manny asked, eyes wide.
"I played. But I was a substitute. They put me in when the game was already decided, or when someone got injured. I was the one who was always there, but never the one who made the difference."
"That must have been hard."
Javier looked at him.
"It was hard. But I learned there are ways to win that don't make the papers. I learned to be there, even if I'm not the center of attention."
Jay, from the armchair, let out a grunt. "That's what the ones who were never starters say."
Javier looked up. "Did you play baseball, Jay?"
"I played in high school."
"Were you a starter?"
"I was the best on my team."
"And then?"
Jay didn't answer. Javier smiled, but it wasn't a mocking smile.
"Then life takes you down other paths. And that's okay. What matters is what you do with what you learned."
Jay looked at him for a second. Something in his face changed. It wasn't anger or contempt. It was a war he was losing.
"You talk a lot for a substitute," he said.
"Substitutes talk the most. The starters are too busy playing."
Gloria appeared with a tray of arepas and hot chocolate. "Eat," she said, setting everything on the table. "Before it gets cold. And then everyone to their place."
"What's my place?" Javier asked with a smile that didn't hide his mischief.
"Your place is wherever your son is. And your son is here. So for now, your place is here."
Javier didn't say anything, but his smile, for a moment, became smaller. Truer.
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