Fast City Slow Hearts

8 | Stevenson Charm

For the next few hours, I socialized with this new family of mine, enjoying their quirkiness, and their normalcy.

Lizbeth reminded me a lot of my mother. She was patient and funny and had checked to ask if I was comfortable more than twice. Her husband Jake was equally as thoughtful, asking me lighthearted questions about life back home. The pair were adorable, often touching and teasing one another, much to Corinne's chagrin.

At twenty-one, Corinne was the eldest of three girls. Although the age gap was significant, nine-year-old Rebecca and five-year-old Gabrielle were clearly head-over-heels for their big sister, who doted on them. A recent graduate of USC, Jake proudly showed me the video of Corinne's ceremony as she strutted across the stage in Givenchy with her Psychology degree.

I decided that I liked her – a lot. Naturally charismatic, she made playful jabs at everyone and seemed comfortable in her skin.

On the last legs of her twenties, Heidi was the youngest of the siblings with a promising career practicing law. She was feisty and fashionable and would, undoubtedly, fall into the cool aunt category. A wellspring of comedic relief, Scotty was a firecracker and, according to Heidi and Corinne, a playboy even in his forties before he met his fiancée, Daniela, at a housewarming party for their newlywed friends. Originally from Colombia, Daniela had packed up her life in Bogota and made her way to Los Angeles after accepting a position at a finance start-up. She had been watching the children in the backyard when I arrived.

My grandparents were just as I imagined them. In only an hour, I ascertained that Katherine was nurturing and endearing but effortlessly sophisticated. There was not an ounce of pomp or pageantry in her – her humility only amplified her cosmopolitan nature. Relentlessly hospitable and intelligent, I could see a lot of Matthew in her. Even when her children had objected, whining their protests, she had pulled out baby books and photo albums so that I could see my father and his siblings in their adolescence.

Although youthful, my grandfather, Paul, spoke like he possessed the wisdom of three lifetimes. Even more, he spoke only when he had something to say. Much like the rest of his brood, he was charming with an easy sense of humor. It was easy to tell that he loved his family, no matter how silly they could be.

It was overwhelming.

I made an excuse about exploring the outdoors and dug my phone out of my crossbody.

I didn't want to call my mom just yet. I wanted to think more about how I would tell her. I had to talk to someone though.

He answered the phone on the second ring.

"Hey, it's me," I said slowly, distrustful of my tone. I was still a little upset with Cash, but we hadn't talked in two whole days and that was enough to diffuse my frustration with him.

Admittedly, I was only sore because Cash was my perpetual voice of wisdom.

"Hi, how are you?" He sounded unsure of how to proceed himself.

"I'm fine, just enjoying the sunny California weather. It's pretty out here."

"Your voice sounds funny. What's up, Sale," Cash prompted me.

"You always gotta do that?"

His retort came quick and drawly, "Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin' then."

I huffed annoyed, "Okay, you caught me. I'm not fine. I mean, I'm fine, I just feel conflicted is all."

I paused, waiting for him to comment. When he didn't, I continued.

"I met my family today." I waited.

"I have aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, Cash. Grandparents. They're sweeter than cherry pie."