I discover that, yes, they are, then leave the bathroom with a smile on my face.
As you might have guessed, there isn’t much to do on a Thursday afternoon in a small-town mall. We look at the window displays, and Rebeca tells us about how her internship at a publicity agency is torture and her boss is a full-time asshole. Caio tells us stories about a teacher who used to be Rebeca’s, too, and the two of them reminisce over inside jokes. I don’t understand much of what they’re talking about, but I’m smiling for most of it because it feels so nice to be in their company.
I’ll admit that I enjoy listening to the two of them talk about school, because I don’t feel like I have to participate. I can just be quiet and watch without seeming like a weirdo. Because, for the moment, my silence makes sense.
We go into a department store that’s having a clearance sale, and Rebeca walks all over the place, looking for clothes and making comments like “I don’t understand this collection that they’re calling ‘plus size’ but that only goes up to size twelve” and “These pants should come with a warning that they’re only good for people who were born with literally no butt.”
I’m having fun with the things she says when suddenly my eyes catch a section I didn’t even know existed. At the back of the store, behind the underwear section, I find a sign that says MEN’S SLEEPWEAR and walk that way.
I never go shopping for clothes. My mom usually does that for me. Now imagine my surprise when I discover there’s an entire section dedicated to pajamas, and in that section, there are superhero pajamas! I feel apprehensive right away, because every time I find cool clothes, I have to deal with the immediate disappointment of not finding them in my size. But the superhero pajama industry—unlike the therapist knickknacks industry—seems much more inclusive, and the pj’s come in all sizes. I search for a Green Lantern set and find it easily. (After all, it’s green!)
I’m not a big fan of colors. I like colors on things, but never on me. I hold up the Green Lantern pajamas in front of me, trying to imagine myself in them, when I hear Caio calling me.
“Psst, what about this one? It’ll look exactly like the drawing that you got from the boy at the community center,” he says, holding a pair of Batman pajamas in front of his body.
It’s all black, with the yellow bat symbol smack-dab in the middle of the top, and though I don’t really like Batman, I still buy it. Never again, beige pajamas. Never again.
It’s late afternoon when we finally leave the mall. Rebeca needs to pick up Melissa, who’s coming to visit for the weekend, and Rebeca can’t stop talking about it. I don’t mind because I think it’s cute how she talks about her girlfriend, all lovey-dovey. And I wonder how complicated it must be to live so far away from the person you love.
Before we part ways, Rebeca throws her arms around my shoulders. She’s touched me so many times throughout the day that I’m not even startled by it anymore.
“I like you. You’re a nice one. I want to see you again, okay?” she says, and I answer with a smile because I like her, too. She’s a nice one. And I want to see her again.
And now, looking at Caio and me, she starts planning the next day.
“Melissa is dying to see you. Let’s hang out tomorrow. Just give me a call.”
“But—”
“No buts allowed, Caio! Your mom is out of town, and we have to make the most of it!” she says, moving her hips in a funny dance.
Caio agrees and hugs her goodbye.
I give her a wave and say, “Bye, Rebeca!”
She turns around to leave, but before she walks away, she looks at me one last time. “You can call me Becky, hottie.”
And I have no reaction, because no one has ever called me hottie in my life.
Granted, she might have said it ironically. Or maybe she calls everyone that. Or perhaps she really does think I’m a hottie, but in a platonic way. I look down and start walking quickly so Caio won’t notice my face going red for the millionth time since we left the house.
On the way home my mom texts me: I’M STARVING!!!!!!!!!! followed by four hundred food-related emojis, crying faces, and an alien that she probably included by mistake.
Caio and I stop at a Chinese restaurant (my mom’s favorite) and order takeout. When we get back and she sees the restaurant bag, she thanks me desperately, as if I had saved the world. Her hair is pulled up, forming a nest on the top of her head, and there are paint splotches all over her clothes. She takes one last look at the painting she’s working on (a field of red flowers and, in the middle of the flowers, some hidden human heads) and throws the brushes in a cup filled with water.
“No more work for today! Now I just want to eat orange chicken, watch whatever crap is on TV, and have fun with my two boys!” she says, bringing the food to the living room.
I walk in right behind her, trying to let go of the fact that my mom calling us “her two boys” is pretty weird. Caio makes a funny face at me, and I think he’s probably thinking the same thing.
The three of us squeeze onto the couch, each holding our little takeout containers. We watch three episodes of The Bachelorette, a painfully bad reality show in which a single woman is stranded in a house with, like, twenty versions of the same dude, and in the end has to pick one of them. They’re all mostly white, ripped, and kind of jerks, but my mom and I love this show for how ridiculous it is.
When we’re done with our TV marathon, my mom slaps my leg lightly.
“Want to see what your grandma has to tell us today?” she asks with an earnest smile on her face.
Caio looks confused. And with good reason, because he knows my grandmother is dead. My mom notices the confusion on his face and starts to explain.
“Since my mother passed away, Felipe and I look for ways not to forget her. One day, Felipe got a fortune from a fortune cookie that happened to be a phrase she used to always say. And ever since then, we like to believe that she communicates with us via fortune cookie.”
It’s a little weird, I know. But it’s become such a ritual in our home that the possibility of Caio thinking we’ve lost our minds doesn’t even cross mine. I look at my mom, and her eyes are watery with tears.
Caio listens to the story with a smile and strokes her shoulder.
“And what did the fortune say?” he asks, looking at me.
“ ‘The world is yours,’ ” I answer, a little emotionally, which always happens when I think about Grandma Thereza.
The three of us go quiet for a few seconds, but my mom gets up, grabs the three fortune cookies from the coffee table, and distributes them among us.
“It’s time to see what Grandma Thereza has to tell us. Let’s go, one at a time. Caio can go first, since he’s the guest.”
Caio opens the cookie, removes the slip of paper, and reads his fortune.
“ ‘Fate can be a shield or a sword. It’s up to you to decide.’ ”
The three of us start laughing, because that doesn’t make any sense.
“Sometimes Grandma gets a little confused,” my mom says. Then she opens her cookie, takes out the slip of paper, and reads, “ ‘The bird doesn’t sing for a reason. It sings for a song.’ ”