The Beautiful You

Thirty-three ~ Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

"Apollo, is your room clean?" My mom asked while she stood over the stove with beads of sweat stuck to her forehead.

Mom was usually prepared to cook for the Christmas party, but we weren't meant to host it this year, that was until Uncle Oscar decided he didn't want to host this year. Annoyed with his brother, my dad offered our house in an attempt to save the Christmas tradition.

"Ms. Elena, I don't think his room can get any cleaner," Amory chimed in, holding a giant pot filled with rice.

"On the table, Amory." My mom pointed to the extra table we had placed in the dining room. "Also, you don't need to be so formal. Saying my name is fine," she said.

"Elena," he repeated with an embarrassed smile.

Amory was supposed to get here by the time the party started, but he decided to show up a few hours early to help. Which went over really well with my mom. I think he's trying to prove to her that he's a better son, but he denied this.

"Okay," my mom sighed, wiping her hands on her floral apron. "Go get dressed," she said, pointing at me.

Amory followed me to my bedroom and jumped face first onto my bed with his arms sprawled out. He groaned and nuzzled his head into the pillows. I think my mom might have overworked him, and he was definitely regretting coming early.

"Tired?" I asked. He rolled onto his back and nodded. His bangs were swept back to both sides, with his curly hair slicked back, appearing to add more length than usual.

"I am, but your mom must be exhausted. She's all alone in the kitchen," Amory said.

I nodded. "My aunt usually helps her, but she's not flying in until later tonight. And my Uncle's girlfriend is white, so she doesn't really know what to cook for a bunch of Mexicans."

"Can Mexicans not eat..." he hesitated. "White people's food?" Amory asked.

I chuckled and shook my head. "It's not that. It's just that Christmas Eve is special and we like to eat traditional foods," I explained.

"That's nice," he murmured. "My dad and I just wear our pjs and eat leftovers on Christmas..."

I lightly smiled at him as I picked out my clothes from the closet, reaching for a black long sleeved button up shirt.

"It must be nice... to have a family," he said. Those words lingered in the air between us for a few seconds.

I started buttoning up my dress shirt and glanced at him, "Your dad is your family, Amory."

He shook his head and sat up on the bed. "Yeah, but we're not like a real family. You, your mom, your dad–that's a family. You also have a bunch of cousins, aunts, and uncles!"

"Two people can be a family," I said, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt.

"Whatever," he sighed. Amory didn't talk about his family, and maybe that had a lot to do with his own definition of 'family.' I wondered what he thought he was missing for his family to be a real family.

He turned to me and smirked, "Awe, you changed so fast! I didn't see."

"Perv," I mumbled.

Amory stuck out his tongue as his eyes wandered towards my waist, staring at my belt buckle. "That's a huge buckle..."

"I got it when I went to Mexico a couple of years ago," I said, rubbing my fingers over the golden eagle design.

It was supposed to be for my dad, but my grandfather changed his mind and gave it to me instead. He said the design suited me better than it did for my dad.