been in the paper recently, the New York Times Arts & Leisure section. The headline read CROSSOVER KING . Heâs promised to make an appearance at some point today, as much as he hates these things.
I put off opening gifts for as long as possible, but when he hasnât come by three, we start without him. We gather on the lawn, everyone seated around me. My sister places each wrapped gift in my hands, and I open it, trying not to tear the pretty paper. We ooh and aah over every miniature article of clothing and pass it along to be inspected by everyone in the circle. Itâs a well-practiced ritual, exact in its specificity. At the end, every item is returned to its box, accompanied by a card, to remind me of whom to thank for what.
When it starts to rain, itâs getting late by then anyway. We quickly gather all the presents and wrapping and move inside. I call the cats in, and they come running back, from over the fence where they go.
After most everyone has gone, and only my mother, sister, and Alan remain, Gabriel shows up.
âHi,â he says. âSorry Iâm late. Did I miss the whole party?â
âWhat a shame you couldnât be here,â my mother says. âSuch a wonderful day.â Sheâs mad at him, though itâs hard to tell through her characteristic cheerfulness. Iâm almost seven months pregnant and thereâs been no offer to put a ring on my finger.
Gabriel is oblivious to her message. âI know. I tried to get here sooner. These guys can talk your head off.â
I have to smile because although I donât know where heâs been, I know he was the one doing the talking. He sits beside me and puts his arm around me.
âSorry Iâm late, baby.â He kisses my cheek.
My mother is picking up discarded plates and napkins, bits of tape, ribbon, and wrapping paper. Gabriel jumps up to take the garbage bag from her hands. âLet me do that, Mrs. Nelson.â
She warms to him then, just a little. Maybe she thinks it means a proposal is near. He picks up a napkin, a cup, and sets the bag down.
âHey, nice article in the paper, man,â Alan says.
âOh, you saw that? Thanks, man!â Gabriel is in good spirits. Iâm feeling pretty good, too. Iâm thinking about leftovers, planning what Iâll eat first after everyone has gone home. All I want to do is eat and sleep, but Iâm glad Gabriel is there. I feel a hopefulness about us. Maybe it will all work out somehow. When he smiles at me, I beam my love at him full blast, and it makes him laugh.
âPajarito,â he says tenderly.
Eighteen
W hen I first hear the rumor, I dismiss it instantly. I know it canât be true. It hurts to hear the vile lie, makes me a little nauseous, but he would never, ever, do that to me. I know he wouldnât.
Gabrielâs been spending more and more time in L.A. He says thatâs where the opportunity is. He calls me every night, though. He tells me how much he misses me. We make plans for when heâs back in town. He seems happy again, in fact, accepting of impending fatherhood. He brings me little presents. Heâs always full of stories. So, itâs not possible that what I hear is true. No way.
Janelle is such a gossip, I think. Why doesnât she worry about her own life for a change? Why does she always have her nose in everyone elseâs business?
âI heard it from a very reliable source,â she says gently. Weâre all sitting around the table in the back of the restaurant where we eat before out shift. Sheâs speaking to me like Iâm a mental patient, like I might totally flip out.
I want to slap her face, wipe the sympathy right off it. What does she know about the love we share? She doesnât even know us. Look at her. Sheâs never been less attractive. Sheâs getting old; she must be nearly thirty.
âYou donât know what youâre talking about,â I say.
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