“I know. It’ll be like old times with me watching out for him.”
“Mmmm. Yes. But you’re both adults now.”
Hector assumed she was referring to Miguel’s pride. “I won’t embarrass him, Mamá.”
“Just be gentle. Guide him as he gets his life back on track.”
Hector wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Will do. I promise.”
With the groceries all put away, they joined Miguel and Claudia in the living room. Claudia’s face was wet with tears again, but Miguel no longer looked forlorn. Instead, he was undoubtedly frustrated.
“Did you tell your mom your plan?” Hector asked.
“Not yet. Too busy trying to reassure her this mess isn’t her fault.”
“It is,” Claudia said as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I shouldn’t have stayed a single mother. I should have married so you’d have a strong male role model. Then you wouldn’t have let a man treat you that way.”
“Mom, can you please stop with that? I made the decision to date Santos because he flattered me, bought me stuff, and had a big—” Miguel stopped, his face going red. “House,” he finished. “It didn’t have anything to do with me not having a father. It’s because I was shallow and enjoyed what he did for me. So let it go, okay? Let me take responsibility for once.”
Silence hit the room. They all stood there awkwardly, none of them sure how to address Miguel’s last remark. Lupita finally spoke up.
“Okay. No more blaming. It happened and now the only thing that matters is how we can help Miguel move on.”
Claudia sniffed one last time before tucking her handkerchief away. “I have some money in my savings. I’ll give that to you to get an apartment.”
“Mom! I don’t need—”
“Miguel has a plan to get a job and save for his own place. Until then he’s agreed to stay on my couch.” Hector interjected to head off a possible resurgence of the blame game and keep the conversation on track. Remembering what his mom had said about taking care of Miguel’s pride, Hector looked at his friend. “Maybe in exchange you can help me out while you’re here.”
“How?”
“My mom said you like to cook?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I like to eat. But I eat a lot of take out and frozen shit—”
“Hector.”
“Frozen stuff.” Hector corrected himself without missing a beat. “It’d be nice to eat real food on a regular basis instead of waiting for my mom to take pity on me and bring me something.”
Miguel stared at him for a long moment. He looked like he had something to say but ended up simply nodding.
“That’s all settled. We’re good. Right?” He looked at Claudia and she nodded too. Hector sighed, glad to have everyone on the same page and Claudia off Miguel’s back. He glanced over to make eye contact with his friend. Hector gave him a wink and Miguel rewarded him with a grateful smile.
Chapter 2
Monday morning, the smell of food cooking greeted Hector when he walked out of his bedroom in uniform and ready for work. Miguel was in the kitchen, a dish towel tucked into his jeans and a whisk in hand as he scrambled some of the eggs his mother had brought by yesterday. The sunlight coming in through the window made it easy to see that the bruise on his cheek was darker than when he’d first arrived. Hector winced in sympathy for him. Miguel hadn’t complained once about his assorted bruises, but Hector knew they had to hurt.
“Hey.” Miguel turned and smiled when Hector entered the room. “Have a seat. The migas are almost ready.”
Hector sat down, noting the chopped vegetables and crumbled bits of day-old tortillas in neat little piles on the counter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put this much effort into breakfast.
“You want orange juice or apple juice?” Miguel asked.
“Apple,” Hector answered as he started to rise from his seat. “But I can get it.”
“I’ve got it. I’m already up.”