Sure, some things had changed. Cece and Ernesto had been about to start high school, barely making heart eyes at each other, when Alejandro had flown the restrictive coop his papi ruled. Curly-haired, pudgy-cheeked Lulu hadn’t even been a thought in her parents’ pre-pubescent minds. Now they were a family of three, with another about to arrive. And he had missed it all.
But the old portrait of his papi, mami, Ernesto, and him, snapped at the Sears studio twenty-plus years ago, still hung in its clunky frame on the pale blue wall above the love seat. A throwback frame you wouldn’t find in any gallery that displayed Alejandro’s prized photographs today.
Worse, the strange mix of disappointment and hope on his mami’s, abuela’s, and Ernesto’s faces weighed as heavily on his shoulders now as it had back then.
Twelve years away and still he sensed their keen desire for him to quit shirking his responsibilities. To come back and work alongside his papi, preparing to take over the restaurant someday. A life sentence that would shackle Alejandro’s dream of traveling and photographing the world.
It was the reason why he had stayed away for so long. Well, one of several.
“Your papi is sorry he couldn’t be here to welcome you home,” his mom said. She slid to the edge of the sofa, leaning forward to plump the leaf green throw pillows cushioning his injured left leg resting on top of the rattan coffee table.
“Por favor,” he muttered. “Let’s not pretend. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to fall off that rock ledge in El Yunque and wind up in this damn—”
“¡Oye! Language!” Ernesto interrupted. He jerked a thumb at his daughter, busy murmuring something to the baby doll cradled in her tiny arms.
¡Carajo!
The second damn nearly slipped out before Alejandro swallowed it. He wasn’t used to having a kid around. Unless they were the subject of his photograph, and then his camera kept him occupied and at a professional distance.
He dipped his head in apology at his brother and Cece.
“If I hadn’t wound up in this position,” Alejandro continued, “I’d be on my way to Belize for my next shoot. Not . . .”
Not here, surrounded by the people he had let down. Girding himself for when his father came home from Miranda’s, their familia restaurant that was his pride and joy. The legacy Alejandro had spit on by walking away.
“Gracias a Dios que estás bien,” his abuela said softly.
Yeah, thank God he was okay. If “okay” meant slipping down a fucking waterfall and busting the shit out of his leg, then being forced to return to the home he could no longer claim as his to face the people he was destined to disappoint.
He squelched the sarcastic retort. It would only hurt his familia. Instead, he bit his tongue and sagged back against the worn sofa cushions. His leg ached, signaling the time neared for him to swallow another over-the-counter pain pill. He’d given a hard pass to the opioid and acetaminophen with codeine the doc had tried prescribing post-surgery in Puerto Rico. No way would he risk developing any sort of dependency or addiction. There’d been a time after his divorce when he’d come way too close to relying on the bottle to dull his thoughts. Years later, that flirtation with dependency still haunted him.
“How are you feeling, hijo?” His mami finger-combed his hair, a gentle caress that reminded him of times past. When he’d lain on this same couch or the double bed in his room and she’d soothed him when he was sick.
“Your face is pale,” she complained. “And you feel a little warm. Are you hurting?”
He shook his head, lying but unwilling to cause her more distress. His jaw clenched tightly against the ache radiating from two of the pin sites high on his shin, a couple inches below his knee.
“Kiss it better, ’Buela,” his little niece suggested.
Despite the fatigue and disillusion crushing him, Lulu’s cuteness drew his smile. Her pudgy cheeks plumped even more when she grinned back at him.
“I’m not sure that’s going to work, chiquita, but thank you for suggesting it.” He winked, pleased when a cute giggle burst from her mouth. She hugged her bald baby doll to her chest, twisting from side to side.
Her innocence reminded him of the toddler he’d photographed once in a remote Costa Rican village. Spending time with the villagers and volunteers as they toiled at constructing a rustic school building and the eco-brick steps leading up a slight incline to the site had been a humbling experience. One of many he was thankful for over the years.
Cece caressed Lulu’s curly hair, her expression gentle with maternal love when she looked over at him. “It’s good to see you, Ale. Even if it is like this.”
She thrust her chin at the Ilizarov external fixator with its four rings and multiple wires piercing his shin, holding his tibia in place. Lulu had already been warned to keep her distance from the cyborg-looking contraption after racing over to greet him and nearly bumping against the rings.
Carajo, just thinking about the agony her knocking into his leg would have caused made him wince.
“Gracias,” Alejandro replied to Cece.
He wanted to tell her it was good to be here. But they all knew it would be a lie.
Unlike them, he had always itched to be outside, not cooped up at the restaurant. He was more interested in seeing their small island from behind the lens of his camera. Capturing the beauty, wonder, and details so many missed in the busyness of life.
Making his own way in the world, not following someone else’s.
His eyes drifted shut on the past. The differences between them that still held true today. The differences that disappointed them, especially his father.
This visit was only for a short time. Until he was healed enough to have the external fixator rings and pins removed, allowing him more mobility. Then he’d be able to handle the stairs at his town house in Atlanta and he’d be fine on his own. As he had been for years.
Getting out of the wheelchair meant getting back to the job that gave his life purpose. And helped silence the occasional cry of loneliness that howled in the dark of night when his defenses were low.
“I still think we should have driven straight to the emergency room when we arrived here,” his mami said, concern lacing her words.
He swiveled his head on the back sofa cushion to meet her worried gaze. “Let me rest a few minutes; then I’ll remove the dressings and clean the sites. I’m sure everything’s okay. I’m just tired.”
“Bueno, I would feel better if you saw a professional.” His mami ran her fingers through his hair once again. The familiar gesture both soothed and left him longing for a simpler past.
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine,” Alejandro assured her.
“Humph, so I am silly for worrying about my son now, ha?” she demanded with a sniff. “That’s what you think of me?”
Arms crossed as he leaned against the far wall, Ernesto returned Alejandro’s exasperated grimace. They were familiar with this routine. When their mami was like this, you’d better pack your bags. Elena Miranda had a first-class ticket for you on a guilt trip you couldn’t avoid.
The fact that he’d held firm in not returning all these years, despite her heavy-handed attempts to lure him home, spoke of the yawning distance separating Alejandro and his father. The bridge connecting them having long been burnt to the ground.