I unfolded my scarf, feeling flushed and hot. "Fuck." I said, "Is is hot in here or is it just me?"
We had bought the paints and materials from home depot and were heading to Mike's parents' place. I was nervous to meet them, what it meant for Mike to suggest meeting them. My seat belt felt like a vice across my chest.
Mike laughed, looking at me briefly, "I know it's been a while but that's not the best pick up line."
I touched my neck, "No, seriously Mike." The past week I had been having some hot flashes where I suddenly felt like I was sweltering. I wasn't some menopausal old lady so I didn't understand the sudden fevers. And I'd been more tired than usual lately, a little weaker than I should have been. My physiotherapist said progress could come in hills and valleys but I was beginning to suspect something was wrong. But it happened so fast, I almost always forgot about it after it happened.
In the next few minutes, we reached a large house, something like a small mansion with a wraparound fence and a sprawling garden.
"This is where your parents live?" I said in a stunned voice.
"Yeah, and my abuela and abuelo. Some of my cousins. We all help out."
"What do your parents do?" I just contain my surprise.
"My mom's a surgeon, and my dad's a professor." he said it so casually, smoothly checking his rear view mirrors and then turning into a crescent.
"Wow, so you come from money money." I bit off.
"Yeah, I was lucky, a well-off family decided to adopt me. I was in foster care for a bit and it was fucking traumatizing." he gave me a look as he turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car, "I don't know how you went through that until you aged out."
"What happened when I aged out?" I asked, afraid of the answer.
Mike almost sounded angry."You did something stupid."
We started walking down the lit path to the house, "What?"
"You didn't tell me. You were homeless for like a month, first year of uni and you didn't tell me."
"How-" I started, but Mike didn't let me finish.
"Our tuition came with gym memberships and lockers, you managed to get multiple lockers, and you spent the month living at the library, doing laundry in dorms after sneaking in after hours and showering at the gym. You had 99 cent noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner."
"The struggle is real," I quipped, not at all surprised I would do something that crazy.
"No Derrick." Mike stopped briefly to glare at me. "When you need help, you should ask people. You should ask me."
"Well, it all worked itself out, didn't it?"
Mike started to protest but we had reached the house and I could hear latin music vibrating from inside. The door opened before either of us could knock.
A black woman opened the door, hair in soft curls around her face and she made an excited noise when she saw me and Mike. She came towards us and hugged Mike, rocking him from side to side before noisily kissing him on each cheek, and talking to him in Spanish. "Miguel!" she exclaimed.
She came to me, hugging me and kissing me on each cheek, "Derrick," she said in a soft lilt, "It's so nice to see you again. Miguel has been telling me you are in recovery, yes?"
I nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by her energy, reminded of the way Mike sometimes overwhelmed me.
"Well, come inside, all our guests have left, just some cabrons who can't tell the party has ended."
"Who's a cabron?" I heard a voice call from the inside.
An older man who looked to be about the same age as the woman came into the doorframe, not quite as tanned as Mike. He wrapped his arm around her waist, subtly inhaling her hair.
She pursed her lips, and he kissed her on the cheek, "Luciana, have the boys come inside, hmm?" She smiled as he kissed her on the cheek again.
Mike groaned, "Mamá, Papá, you're embarrassing me."
"What's your last name?" I asked Mike as his parents lead us through the living room and into the dining space. They lived in a nice house, airy but still warm with pillars and high ceilings. I couldn't believe Mike's family was this rich. I tried to hide my shock but I struggled.
"Alvarez." Mike said, "My parents are Cuban. Although, as you can see my mom is Afro-Cuban."
"What about you?" I asked.
He shrugged an unconcerned shoulder, "I don't really know. I do think I'm Hispanic at least. I already spoke Spanish when they found me."
"Found you?"
Luciana whipped around, curls bouncing. "Yes. I remember it was almost 25 years ago now." She ushered us into the dining room, a large space with a Cuban flag plastered on the wall and some Latin music playing. There were a few people at the end of the table that she yelled at in Spanish before laughing and then she started to plate food for us. "Aarón-" she snapped, when she saw him pop open a beer bottle, not so subtly pointing at Mike.
"Mamá, it's okay. I'm good." Derrick laughed.
After she gave us too much food, she sat in front of us, continuing her story. "I came into the hospital that morning, and after I put on my scrubs I saw this beautiful boy." She touched Mike's arm. "With big grey eyes, and a cute chubby face. Muy guapo. I bet all the other girls had little crushes on Miguel-"
"Mom-" Mike groaned, covering his face with his hands, but even then I could see him blushing beneath his fingers.
"Or, other boys, whatever." Luciana continued quickly, giving me a meaningful look, "I remember thinking 'where's his mom? Someone would just snatch him up.' And then I went into surgery, did back to back cornea transplants and when I was leaving, he was still there. Just sitting by himself, legs dangling off a waiting seat."
Aarón cut in then, coming to sit beside Luciana, "And, there had just been an accident with a lot of people in the waiting room so it took a while for people to notice. I never liked that hospital. And by the next day, Miguel was still there. I came to pick up Lucita at the hospital for our anniversary dinner. We'd been together for five years by that point and I wanted to propose. And I saw Miguel, too. He just really stood out to me. But then again Lucita looked gorgeous that night, too. Beautiful red dress, her hair all done up-" he began to mime her hourglass figure.
Luciana made an impatient noise, "I know I'm gorgeous, just tell the story Aarón ." And she was, even after doing the math I couldn't see how she was in her early fifties. Smooth brown skin, and full, thick, curly hair. Not to offend Mike's dad but I wondered how they even met. Aarón just didn't stop a room the way she did. He had salt and pepper hair with a matching beard looking more his age.
Aarón rolled his eyes, "And Miguel came up to me in the waiting room and he just wouldn't let go of my leg. He started mumbling in Spanish how his dad said he'd be back. And you know people call me gringo so I still don't how he could tell I was Cubano or even spoke Spanish."
"Aarón-" Luciana warned.
"And long story short, no one showed up, we applied for emergency foster care, Miguelito came home with us and adoption a few years later. And now-" he spread his arms, "-we're here."
Luciana smiled, "And we're so happy Miguel found us. More than happy, we're really blessed."
It was heartwarming watching them but it left me a little cold, too. A little jealous. I wondered if my story would have been different if a nice family found me, instead of the way I supposedly bounced between foster care homes like a pinball.
"That's a really nice story." I said, meaning it.
Luciana gripped and held my hand, "And whoever Miguel cares about is family, too. Okay, Derrick?" she looked at me like maybe she knew a little too much, but the smile reached her eyes so I don't think she judged too harshly.
Aarón was looking at Luciana, wiping at his eyes a bit, "We're really lucky for what you did for Miguel. How you've always been there. Even if you've forgotten a few things, you're still the same. Just a bit skinny. I can give you some more arroz con pollo. That hospital barely fed you, huh?" He reached over and started spooning more rice onto my plate.
I laughed easily, "I'm already full. Can I take some home for left overs?"
"Of course, Derrick. Anything for you." Luciana said.
-
A few hours later, it was late and Mike insisted I stay over. Luciana apologized profusely saying they were renovating a few rooms and that she only had one guest room left with only a single bed.
I blanched, but I didn't say anything until Mike gave me extra clothes of his to change into. It was well past midnight and the lights in the bedroom were soft, a king bed taking up the majority of the room. The sheets were a deep burgundy red and seemed provocative.
Mike unbuttoned his dress shirt, taking off the shirt beneath it, too. I watched as miles of skin and rippling muscles were exposed. I looked away biting out the words "This isn't going to work."
Mike looked at me as though forgetting I was there, but the two spots of red on his cheeks suggested otherwise. "What's wrong, now?"
"I can't sleep in the same bed as you, Mike." I whispered, staring at my hands.
Mike pouted, "Why not?" He turned and began hanging up his shirts in a closet, muscles on his back flexing nicely.
"Because you're massive, and you have all that skin on display, like it's legal." I stepped forward, touching a pec, and then trailing a finger down his abdomen. I caught myself and turned away.
"Having trouble controlling yourself?" Mike drawled. He kissed the curve where my neck met my shoulder, "Just be honest with yourself, Derrick." He flopped onto the bed, going under the covers and opening them for me, patting the empty space.
I crawled in nearly expecting Mike to spoon me when I did and then awkwardly finding myself disappointed when he didn't. But he was still terribly close to me, the heat of his body radiating through mine. He was leaning against his folded arm, lashes lowered just watching me.
"I'm sleepy." he said, closing his eyes. He slanted them open briefly, "Are you busy next weekend?"
"Not on Saturday, no."
"Let's go on a date." Mike said softly, legs finding mine beneath the sheets. Our legs were sufficiently entangled and I didn't pull away.
"No one in your family cares you're gay?" I blurted quietly, enjoying the way his legs felt against mine.
Mike opened his eyes, continuing to slide his legs against mine. "I'm not gay. I'm bi, and I always have been." he kneaded his lip before continuing, "When you adopt a kid, you kind of have to be willing to accept however your kid turns out. Those are usually the kind of people who adopt, right? And-" he yawned, "When I had my first crush, it was this boy in my class, Hector. His hair was dark and his dimples were deep. Whether he was happy or angry, it was adorable. I remember I always wanted him to notice me and I didn't know why. I just wanted to be around him, smell his hair. Talk about Pokémon, show him my beyblades." he sat up on the bed, crossing his legs, "And then I wanted to kiss him. And I asked my mom if that was normal. If boys could kiss boys. And I still remember what she said 'Only with their permission, Miguelito.'" he laughed softly, more light breaths than anything else, "And then she told me how it was like that sometimes, how some people wouldn't like it and I should be careful who I tell until I was a bit older. And then there were a few girls I liked, but it doesn't really change how I feel about guys."
Mike laid back down, "I feel like I've been talking about myself non-stop." he intertwined his legs with mine again, pressing closer.
"It's okay. I like hearing about you, your culture, your life." I said softly.
Mike stretched out an arm carding his hands through my hair, "You interrupted me earlier, when I said we should go on a date." He traced my face with a finger, pulling on my lower lip, "Let's go strawberry picking."
I blinked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, "Why strawberry picking?"
"I don't know." He said, closing his eyes, "it seems romantic. I still need to seduce you. Kissing is nice but I want you to be more than attracted to me." He moved closer to me, eyes bright in the dark, "Are you the little spoon or the big spoon?"
I stifled a laugh, "Who said anything about spoons?"
Mike continued to stare at me, eyes swallowing me in the dark.
I sighed, feeling heat fly into my face. "I guess I'm the little spoon." I murmured, turning away.
Mike sighed happily, snuggling up behind me, kissing me on the back of my neck before making himself comfortable. He tossed an arm possessively across my chest, finding a way to entangle our legs. I wasn't sure where he ended and I began.
I wanted to hate it. I wanted to feel awkward and uncomfortable, and I wanted it to feel wrong. I wanted to hate the weight of his body against mine. But, I didn't hate any of it, not even a little bit.