Cubanita by Gaby Triana Read Free Book Online

brow. He’s taking a moment’s rest from digging the pit for tomorrow’s lechón . His tank undershirt is soaked with sweat, and his hands are covered with dirt. Despite all this, he’s digging in nice pants and dress socks. A sight to behold.
    â€œPapi, you have got to do something about that woman.”
    He circles the pit, looking for a new spot to unearth. “What’s there to do? That woman is fine the way she is.”
    â€œAnd I thought you were the reasonable one.”
    He laughs in a way I’ve loved since as long as I can remember—airily, but with a hint of wheezing. “What happened, Isa?”
    â€œShe invited Robi to come tomorrow.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo I invited Andrew to come tomorrow too.”
    He thinks about this for a moment. “So? She didn’t know that.”
    â€œDad? She has no business inviting Robi at all! What is she trying to do?” A mosquito bites my ankle, so I slapit to a premature death.
    â€œI’m sure she’s not trying to do anything, Isa. What do you want? For her to drop that boy like a hot potato just because you did?”
    I cross my arms. Another mosquito whirs a high-pitched battle cry near my ear.
    â€œDidn’t you bring Robi around here and ask everybody to accept him as your boyfriend?” He jabs the shovel into the ground and brings up a good chunk of soil. “Now you want us to forget him just like that? She’s not doing it to upset you, Isa. It’s just that it’ll take her a little longer than it took you.”
    â€œI don’t believe this.” I turn and head back to the house. Both the mosquitoes and my dad are killing me.
    â€œ ¿Hija? ”
    â€œ ¿Padre? ”
    â€œI know it’s frustrating, but try to be more patient with your mother. Please?”
    There’s something in his face. I don’t know what it is. Then, a soft look, the one he saves for his girls. Only his girls. I can’t possibly say no to him. “I’ll try, Papi. For you.”
    He blows his kiss, then goes back to digging the pit o’ death.
    Â 
    What the heck, I’ll give it a shot. I’ll ask my brother for his two cents on the situation. To locate Stefan, I follow the bass sound of old school Power 96 music.
    Din…din…din-di-ri-din-din…
    See? He’s in his room. Even though he keeps his doorunlocked, I knock. I really don’t want to risk seeing him naked, or worse, blow-drying his hair like a girl.
    Freestyle’s kickin’ in the house tonight…move your body from left to right…
    Stefan actually thinks this music is classic. In reality, that electronic voice stopped sounding futuristic in, like, the year I was born. “Stefan?”
    A fully clothed, ready-to-hit-the-town Stefan pulls the door open, smiles, and walks back to his mirror. As if this couldn’t get worse, he starts singing.
    â€œExcuse me, loser?” His bed is immaculately made, rows of shoes in the closet, bottles of cologne samples lined up on his dresser, all exposing Stefan’s organization mania. “Señor Martha Stewart?”
    He sways to the beat, which is actually pretty funky if you can get past the silly words.
    â€œBaboon? Uh…I know I’m interrupting your important pre-party grooming ritual, but I need some advice. Hel-lo?”
    But Stefan’s in a semitrance. He hears me, judging from his nod, but his response is more physical than intellectual. If my brother knows anything, it’s physical. I must get him one of those disco balls for Christmas.
    He turns around to demonstrate exactly what I should do about my situation, even though I haven’t even told him what it is yet. Party! Dance! He waves his arms in the air, sinks low to the floor, and bites his lower lip. No words necessary. Just go with the flow, his hips tell me.
    â€œBoth Robi and this guy I went out with are coming tomorrow!” I shout above