Trouble

The rest of the afternoon was awkward, since Liam had insisted on staying after I turned down his offer to kiss me again and, potentially, go even further. We mostly made small talk, which I hated, but I was too afraid to tell him that there was a solid middle ground between having sex on the floor when someone could walk in at any time and pretending we were strangers that just got thrown into a room together.

“LIAM!” Marisol screeched when she walked through the door after her play date. She immediately dropped the one Barbie she owned, which was curiously only half-clothed, on the ground and ran over to the boy sitting next to me, launching herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, letting her snuggle her face into his shoulder, rubbing her back softly. “Hi, cutie. How’s it going?”

She opened her mouth before giggling. “Whoops! I was just about to speak Spanish, but you’re not Mexicano.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t get along, right?”

“RIGHT.” She let out a small laugh before launching into a very detailed story of her play date, telling the exact scenario she and her friend came up with while they were playing dolls.

As she explained, I went into the kitchen to make lunch for the three of us, since Marisol was more than happy to tell her story to just Liam. I probably should have been offended, but I wasn’t really, considering I knew she had a crush on him. A massive crush. It was too bad for her there was a little bit of an age gap.

The quesadillas sizzled on the stove, the oil bubbling a little, the tortilla browning as the cheese melted. I could still hear Marisol droning on in the other room, and I was shocked that Liam was still listening. Or at least pretending to listen.

“El almuerzo está listo,” I called as I transferred the last quesadilla onto a plate, dolloping sour cream next to it like Marisol insisted on having.

“C’mon, Liam,” Mari exclaimed, followed by the sound of her hopping excitedly over to the table, sliding into one of the seats.

“You didn’t have to make me anything,” Liam said stiffly when I put a plate in front of him.

“Yes, I did,” I corrected, giving him a warning look. “You’re Marisol’s guest, and I wouldn’t leave you hungry. Right, Marisol?”

“Yes!” She grinned widely before launching into her food, ripping off a huge piece of her food, dipping it in the sour cream, and chewing thoughtfully. “Liam, do you have a girlfriend?”

His cheeks turned a subtle pink as I promptly turned around and went back into the kitchen. I knew he didn’t, but I figured that his answer would have implicated me or jabbed at me to make me feel bad about rejecting him. But he had to know that it hadn’t been easy for me, either. I wasn’t cruel. I had a heart, unlike a handful of the members of Los Monstruos.

But when I walked back in, my lunch in my right hand, some more sour cream in my other, I heard Liam say, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Is that an offer?”

Marisol turned bright red as she shook her head back and forth violently, her curls going every which way in the haste. “No! You’re old. But I think you should kiss Soledad.”

Oh, shit. What a little bitch. “Marisol, please don’t set me up,” I joked as I sat down, but I couldn’t force any humorous tone into my voice, so the attempt fell flat.

“Why not? You don’t have a boyfriend. And you better have a kid soon, or you’re not going to be able to. And I want a brother.”

Liam snorted from his side of the table, hiding his head in his hands, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out, while I took a deep breath to start explaining basic relations to my little sister.

“Marisol, querida, I know I don’t have a boyfriend. But don’t worry; I still have plenty of time before I stop being able to have kids, if I end up having kids at all.”

“NO,” my little sister interrupted, slamming her first against the table, sending everything rattling. “You have to have kids, Sol. I need a brother!”

“Even if I do have kids, they wouldn’t be your siblings,” I told her seriously. “It would be your niece or nephew. For you to get a brother, mamá would have to be the one to have a boy.”

Marisol started to sniffle, her lower lip wobbling with emotion. “But mamá is too old,” Marisol argued. “She’s all dried up and shriveled.”

Liam started to cough from lack of oxygen, finally getting to his feet and leaving the room before he killed himself. A minute later, I heard the bathroom door close, and I hoped he was working to get his act together.

“She’s not shriveled,” I defended. “Mamá is only thirty-six. She could still have kids, too, not that I think she wants to. But your life will go on if you don’t have a brother.”

“But I want one, though.”

“Where did you even hear that mamá was dried and shriveled?” I demanded, knowing that Marisol hadn’t come up on those horrifically descriptive adjectives on her own.

“Some girl at school said her mother said that when she asked for a sibling. So I told them that my sister could have some boys, and then I’d have brothers instead of just sisters, and they were all impressed. But now I know that I just lied, and you can’t help me at all.”

“Mari,” I started in a sigh, but I was too late. She had already shoved her plate toward the middle of the table, making a loud scraping noise, and made her way to her bedroom, her arms crossed in front of her chest in anger.

A few seconds later, the door slammed, and I smacked my forehead against the table. I had figured that Marisol had already gone through her terrible twos, but apparently, they were able to make a recurrence without any kind of warning.

I focused on breathing, my eyes closed, working to block out the feeling of guilt I had, as well as the intense throbbing in my arm.

Soon, Liam returned, having calmed down his laughter, the soft sound of his socks against the tile floor giving him away. “You alright?” he asked in a low voice to make sure Marisol couldn’t hear. “Is your arm bothering you?”

“It’s fine,” I lied, pulling my head off the table and running a hand through my hair. “I just hate disappointing her, you know?”

“Then have a kid and pretend it’s her brother,” Liam responded easily, shrugging, trying to hold back the smirk that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Shut up,” I snapped at him. “You’re not making this any better.”

“Sorry. Should I leave?”

“No. And you should stop being awkward, too.”

“What?”

I let out a breath. “Just because I think we should cool it on what you’re looking for doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. I don’t want to act like strangers, okay? Because I actually think you’re a decent person.”

Liam slapped a hand against his chest, getting a sparkle in his eye that hadn’t been there in too long. “Soledad! You’re just too kind to me. A decent person? God, you flatter me too much.”

“Don’t push it,” I chuckled. “I can take it back just as easily.”

Liam settled down in his seat at the table and started to eat his quesadilla, smiling as he chewed. “This is really good, by the way.”

“It should be,” I chuckled. “I’ve been making them my whole life.”

“Congratulations on that.” He held up the piece in his hand, toasting me with it before taking another bite.

“You’re so weird,” I sighed, shaking my head and finishing my own food, trying to pretend that Marisol’s half-eaten plate wasn’t staring back at me.