ago.”
Andrés follows her up the winding staircase with intricately carved cherry oak banisters, a recent addition to their two-story sprawling ranch home. Though his aunt and uncle can afford to build a lavish mansion, his auntie has refused, saying she’d never tear down the home where her children were raised. Instead, they remodeled and expanded, until this once-modest house on six acres became a large manor on four hundred acres. Over the years, Tio built a pool and horse stables where he bred prize racing studs. They’d even added a pond and cattle. Yet, despite all the changes, Andrés never feels more at peace than when he comes home to the same two loving people who raised him.
He follows his auntie into her bedroom. A huge four poster bed sits in the center. Light filters into the room from twin French doors that lead to a spacious patio overlooking the beautiful Texas hill country. Even from the second story, Andrés can see the tops of the shady oak trees that surround the house like a fortress.
Double doors lead to his auntie’s oversized bathroom. He walks across the earthen Spanish tiles and past the centerpiece of the bathroom, a marble Jacuzzi, toward the shower. He suppresses a laugh when he sees the door is off its hinges. He’s heard the story from his cousins; Tio was so angry after stubbing his toe in the shower, he’d taken it out on the door.
“Tio at work again?” Andrés asks as he puts down his tools and examines the shower door. The hinges were ripped off the slate, but he can fix it. He’s almost positive his uncle has extra tiles in the garage.
“Yeah.” She heaves a groan and rolls her eyes. “Always at the paint shop. Another artist quit yesterday. I’ll be glad when he retires and turns all these shops over to you boys.”
“I won’t.” Andrés winces. His family has been bringing up Tio’s retirement more and more lately. For some reason, his uncle has decided he’s going to split up all twenty businesses between Andrés and his three cousins. Andrés can’t help but feel guilty over taking his uncle’s offer. He’s tried to argue with his family, but his aunt and uncle, and even his cousins, insist he receive an equal share of the inheritance. Andrés only hopes when his uncle does finally retire, he’ll be able to live up to his family’s expectations. Five successful businesses, plus a large bank account to support them seems overwhelming to a guy who has just come back from war and is still dealing with the loss of his best friend. Besides, Andrés still doesn’t know if he deserves to be rewarded.
“Don’t worry.” Tia squeezes his arm and looks up at him with soft brown eyes. “You just got home. Give yourself some time. You’ll learn the ropes. After you fix the shower, we’ll have lunch. How does that sound?”
“That depends.” Andrés smiles playfully at his aunt. “Will there be tamales?”
“Of course,” she says with a note of awe in her voice before cupping his cheek in her hand. “Anything for my hero.”
Andrés’s chest tightens as he watches his aunt walk out the door. He hates how they always call him a hero, especially when he doesn’t feel like one. Heroes are supposed to save the day and get the girl. Because of Andrés’s carelessness, his best friend is dead, and Andrés can’t even make a girl breakfast without scaring her away. No, he is definitely not a hero.
* * *
It takes me less than a half hour to shower, do my makeup, and get dressed, which is obviously still too long of a wait for my impatient mother, who is huffing and puffing when I come down the stairs. Ironically, she has no problem making others wait two or more hours while she performs her daily ritual of primping, plucking, and concealing.
I’m aggravated because I think my mom’s whole mourning thing is total bullshit, a way for her to get sympathy as the grieving widow. My mom never cared about my dad when he was alive. Why is she so concerned
Andrés follows her up the winding staircase with intricately carved cherry oak banisters, a recent addition to their two-story sprawling ranch home. Though his aunt and uncle can afford to build a lavish mansion, his auntie has refused, saying she’d never tear down the home where her children were raised. Instead, they remodeled and expanded, until this once-modest house on six acres became a large manor on four hundred acres. Over the years, Tio built a pool and horse stables where he bred prize racing studs. They’d even added a pond and cattle. Yet, despite all the changes, Andrés never feels more at peace than when he comes home to the same two loving people who raised him.
He follows his auntie into her bedroom. A huge four poster bed sits in the center. Light filters into the room from twin French doors that lead to a spacious patio overlooking the beautiful Texas hill country. Even from the second story, Andrés can see the tops of the shady oak trees that surround the house like a fortress.
Double doors lead to his auntie’s oversized bathroom. He walks across the earthen Spanish tiles and past the centerpiece of the bathroom, a marble Jacuzzi, toward the shower. He suppresses a laugh when he sees the door is off its hinges. He’s heard the story from his cousins; Tio was so angry after stubbing his toe in the shower, he’d taken it out on the door.
“Tio at work again?” Andrés asks as he puts down his tools and examines the shower door. The hinges were ripped off the slate, but he can fix it. He’s almost positive his uncle has extra tiles in the garage.
“Yeah.” She heaves a groan and rolls her eyes. “Always at the paint shop. Another artist quit yesterday. I’ll be glad when he retires and turns all these shops over to you boys.”
“I won’t.” Andrés winces. His family has been bringing up Tio’s retirement more and more lately. For some reason, his uncle has decided he’s going to split up all twenty businesses between Andrés and his three cousins. Andrés can’t help but feel guilty over taking his uncle’s offer. He’s tried to argue with his family, but his aunt and uncle, and even his cousins, insist he receive an equal share of the inheritance. Andrés only hopes when his uncle does finally retire, he’ll be able to live up to his family’s expectations. Five successful businesses, plus a large bank account to support them seems overwhelming to a guy who has just come back from war and is still dealing with the loss of his best friend. Besides, Andrés still doesn’t know if he deserves to be rewarded.
“Don’t worry.” Tia squeezes his arm and looks up at him with soft brown eyes. “You just got home. Give yourself some time. You’ll learn the ropes. After you fix the shower, we’ll have lunch. How does that sound?”
“That depends.” Andrés smiles playfully at his aunt. “Will there be tamales?”
“Of course,” she says with a note of awe in her voice before cupping his cheek in her hand. “Anything for my hero.”
Andrés’s chest tightens as he watches his aunt walk out the door. He hates how they always call him a hero, especially when he doesn’t feel like one. Heroes are supposed to save the day and get the girl. Because of Andrés’s carelessness, his best friend is dead, and Andrés can’t even make a girl breakfast without scaring her away. No, he is definitely not a hero.
* * *
It takes me less than a half hour to shower, do my makeup, and get dressed, which is obviously still too long of a wait for my impatient mother, who is huffing and puffing when I come down the stairs. Ironically, she has no problem making others wait two or more hours while she performs her daily ritual of primping, plucking, and concealing.
I’m aggravated because I think my mom’s whole mourning thing is total bullshit, a way for her to get sympathy as the grieving widow. My mom never cared about my dad when he was alive. Why is she so concerned
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