𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 [peso pluma]

13

The sun dipped below the horizon as Celine and Mateo helped their mother unload groceries from the car. The weight of the bags felt familiar, a routine that provided a semblance of normalcy in the midst of the emotional storm that was her family.

As Celine approached the front door, the voice she hadn't heard in months called out, "Mija!" She froze, her grip tightening on the grocery bags. Her heart beaten quickening.

Celine couldn't hide the skepticism in her eyes. It had been months since their last encounter, and the unexpected arrival left her uneasy. The bags in her arms suddenly seemed like a flimsy barrier between them.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, "Qué haces aquí?" [What are you doing here, Pa?]

The tension hung thick in the air as he insisted, "Por qué no puedo venir de visita?" [Why can't I just come visit?]

Maricela intervened, instructing Celine to go inside. As the door closed behind her, the muffled voices of her mother and Luis engaged in an argument echoed through the house.

Inside the kitchen, Celine and Mateo began to prep dinner, the clinking of utensils a stark contrast to the strained voices in the living room. 

Maricela entered the kitchen, Luis following closely behind. She wore a half-apologetic smile, sensing the discomfort in the air. "Celine, Mateo, your father thought it would be nice to have dinner together tonight."

Celine mentally groaned at the idea of having to be in her father's presence for more than ten minutes.

Luis attempted awkward small talk with Mateo, struggling to remember basic details about his son's life. With a gentle pat on Mateo's back, "What are you, 14 now?" He chuckled, not waiting for a response. Mateo mumbled a correction, "15," but his voice was barely audible.

Celine continued organizing the groceries, creating a semblance of normalcy amid the swirling emotions. The kitchen felt smaller, and the air heavier, as they navigated the uncharted territory of a family dinner that hadn't been in the plans.

Luis, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort, tried to engage Mateo in conversation. "So, high school, huh? How's that treating you?"

Mateo shrugged, his responses curt. "It's fine."