Carmela + Amos

Chapter 6 - Amos

"That's not true."

"No?" Her brows arched. "Remember your cousin Enrique's wedding? How she embarrassed you in front of everyone at the reception? How she said you'd never make enough money to afford a beautiful wedding?"

"She was just joking."

"No!" She wagged her finger. "I saw your face. Her words hurt you! And that was months into the relationship. Here we are, five years later, and she still goes on about the same mierda."

"Ma!"

"It's true." She raised her chin. "She acts like you're lucky to be with her when it's the opposite. And you know what? If your father were still alive, he would agree with me."

"You can't speak for him."

"Yes, I can." She nodded. The answer final. "Now come on." She smacked his knee. "Your brother made Huevos Rancheros, and if we don't tell him it's delicious, then you know he'll get self-conscious."

∆∆∆

Amos popped the last bite of food into his mouth and pushed the plate across the oak table, his stomach full. Their mother stood from her chair, pink curlers still intact, and began collecting the dishes. She hummed a song while circling the table, but when Carlos released a belch, she smacked the side of his head.

"Ouch!"

"Manners," she scolded, and Amos chuckled at him.

"Some things never change."

"Welcome home, bro," Carlos said sarcastically.

"When are you gonna move out?"

"When I can afford to." Carlos sucked at the food in his teeth. "I'm not swimming in cash yet, but once this food truck business takes off, I'll start saving money."

"You're a wonderful cook."

"Chef," Carlos corrected. "And I'm a fucking fantastic one!"

"Language!" Their mother smacked his head again.

"Perdóname," Carlos batted his long lashes, and their mother grinned before kissing the top of his head.

"I swear, you let him get away with everything," Amos accused her.

"I do not."

"Mm-hm, keep telling yourself that."

"I will." She rolled her shoulders back and began washing dishes.

The brothers exited the kitchen, leaving their mother to do her favorite chore, and by mid-afternoon, they relaxed on the patio, strumming guitars. Their mother's home was small, but the backyard felt like a limitless sanctuary with various flower bushes forming paths leading to fruit trees where you could sit on wooden benches. A water fountain and scattered wind chimes provided a relaxing cacophony in the breeze.

Amos imagined his future wedding with Lorena in the backyard. They'd exchange vows in the Bougainvillea-covered pergola nestled between the lemon trees. His brother would cater the reception, and when the sun descended, the lanterns and string lights would twinkle while everyone danced to salsa music.