The booth at the bar and grill squeaks underneath my thighs as I anxiously adjust them. I’m without my entourage, and across from me is Amelia, which I’m regretting. So far, this reunion is awkward. The menu in front of her is open, the edges clutched between her fingers, but she isn’t reading it. Instead, she won’t stop staring at me as I flick my gaze from her to the menu, hoping she’ll stop. 

“I’ll have the guacamole bacon burger with pepper jack cheese and wedge-cut fries,” I say to the waitress. “Oh, and a side of ranch.”

“And to drink?”

“A strawberry shake.”

“Excellent. And for you, ma’am?” She shifts to Amelia. 

“I’ll have the same.” She closes the menu.

The waitress walks away, leaving us in silence again, so I fidget with the paper wrapping on the straw for our water. As I fuss with it, Amelia’s stare burns into my forehead. I don’t know what to say or how to begin conversation. Do I tell her about life with my parents? Or should I wait for her to ask?

“I can’t believe how grown up you are,” she says, her English accented with a Spanish tone. “The last time I saw you, I could still carry you in my arms.”

“A lot of change happens in twenty years,” I reply, although I don’t know what I’m inferring, and my fingers fumble with the straw’s wrapping. So, I set it flat on the table and start rubbing my mother’s necklace instead.

“I noticed you like to touch that necklace a lot. Did he give it to you?” 

“Who?” My gaze darts to hers.

“Angelo. Did he give that to you?”

“It belonged to my mother,” I say, and right as the words leave my lips, they cut Amelia like a thousand lacerations to her face, and everything from her eyes to her mouth sags.

“I see.”

“She was a loving mother,” I whisper, but it’s probably the last thing Amelia wants to hear.

“Was?”

“She passed away when I was younger. She…” I take a breath. “Killed herself.”

“Must have been the guilt.”

“She suffered from depression!” I clip, my eyes flashing to her. “She was mentally ill.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, and I am sorry for your loss, but she stole you from me, so I have deep resentment. Rightfully so.”

We fall into silence again, and this reunion is not going well. It’s probably not what Amelia imagined either. She probably thought we’d fall into easy conversation and bond over a mother-daughter shopping spree and spa day. But I am not the daughter she once knew. I’m not even my father’s daughter anymore.

I am no one.

But I don't want to be lost, so now is the chance to discover who I am.

“Do I…” I swallow the lump in my throat, then clear it. “Do I look like my siblings?” 

“Yes.” Amelia straightens her posture, and there is already a flicker of light in her eyes. “Rosalinda looks more like Javier, and Lily looks more like me, but you…” She studies me as if I were a mosaic. “I see pieces of Javier and me.”

“Will I get to meet them?”

“Unfortunately, Rosalinda and Lily have school exams and can’t miss them.”

“And Javier?”

“Yes, well…” her gaze drifts to the table, and her voice is strained. “Javier is battling cancer, so he’s too weak to travel.”

“How bad is it?” 

“Bad. He doesn’t have much time left, but it's been his dream to find you.”

“You’ve found me.” I try to smile, but the corners of my mouth barely lift. 

“I was hoping you could fly to Mexico City to see him next week.”

“Next week is my father's—I mean, Angelo’s court hearing.”

“How about as soon as it’s over?” Amelia says.

“I’ll need to check how much flights costs.”

“I will pay.” Amelia waves her hands. “I just need you to get there as soon as possible,” she takes a deep breath. “Javier is suffering, but he won’t let go until he sees you, and as much as I don’t want him to leave me, it’s time. He deserves peace.”

“Oh,” I exhale as all of the air escapes my lungs. What if I get to Mexico City too late, and the chance to meet my biological father vanishes? 

Amelia reaches across the table and wipes a tear from my cheek with the back of her knuckle. Except I didn’t realize I had started crying, and my hands are trembling as I drop my face into them. Everything shudders, from my shoulders down to my toes. Amelia scoots into the booth next to me, takes me into her arms, and rocks back and forth. 

“Dos gardenias para ti. Con ellas quiero decir…” she sings, and somewhere in my sobbing, I recognize the song. 

There’s a flicker of memory as faint as a distant star. But it’s there.

“What are you singing?” I peer at her through damp lashes. 

“It’s called Dos Gardenias by Ibrahim Ferrer. I used to sing it when you and your sisters were babies. It always soothed you whenever you cried.”

“Did you sing it to me that night?” I crease my brows at a vague memory that my mind could be making it up.

“Yes.” She studies me. “You didn’t want to go to sleep. You wanted to stay up and look at the stars with us, but it had been a long day, and I knew you were exhausted. You cried, so I held you and sang until you calmed down.”

“I remember,” I whisper. “But in my memory, it was Rosalinda you sang to.”

“I sang to her too. Right before you.”

“Do you know what happened to me that night?”

“Not the entire story,” Amelia sighs. “I’m afraid that’s information only Angelo can provide.”

Our meal arrives, so Amelia returns to her side of the booth, and as we eat, she shares photos of my sisters but doesn’t show me any of Javier. Despite being curious about what he looks like, I decide not to ask for his pictures because she must have a reason. By the time we finish, I no longer feel uncomfortable as I tell her about working with Julian and how we became friends. I even laugh as I tell her about the time his pants ripped down the crotch while at a Giants baseball game. 

“I’m glad you have a good friend like him.” She smiles. “How long have you been with your boyfriend?”

“I’ve been with Moses for a few weeks. It’s new. He lives in my building.”

“He’s handsome. I’m happy for you.”

The tab for our food arrives, and she insists on paying when I reach for my wallet. I put up a little fight by offering to leave the gratuity, but she waves my hand away. Then, we head outside and stand there, unsure what to do next. So, she extends her arms to me.

“It was lovely to have lunch with you.” She pulls me into a hug and takes a deep breath. “Would you like to meet again tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She releases me but holds onto my upper arms, her eyes scanning mine. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I duck my head.

“Maybe tomorrow we can do brunch? I found a cute place on Google, and maybe after that, you can show me your city?”

“Sure.” I look back up and smile.

“Ok.” She pats my arms, but I think she wants to hug me again. “See you tomorrow, mi niña.”

With a nod, she walks away, wiping her eyes.

∆∆∆

In the days leading up to my father’s sentencing, I spend time getting to know Amelia, and with each passing day, my guard lowers. However, everywhere we go, reporters follow us to snap photos, leaving me with no privacy. Our faces have been splashed across tabloids, and news anchors discuss our story as if we're characters in a movie. People constantly stare. 

Earlier today, Amelia and I explored The Academy of Sciences, and a few reporters followed us from a distance. Now, we’re at the Fairmont Hotel where she's staying, and we decided to swing by the Tonga Room for drinks, but we can’t escape reporters.

As we sip on Mai Tais, they sit across a mini bridge where water flows underneath while thunderstorms crash on the surround sound above us. This place is magical, with its indoor-outdoor theme of tiki huts, shimmering string lights, and blue bodies of water. 

But the onlookers are ruining everything as Amelia shows me photos from Rosalinda’s trip to Puerto Vallarta.

“She’s an adventurous college girl and wanted to go to Indonesia, but she knows how scared I am about her going to foreign places. So, she convinced her friends to go to Puerto Vallarta for spring break instead.”

“It looks like she had fun.”

“She did. She said she had the time of her life.” Amelia closes out the gallery of photos and tucks some of her thick dark hair behind one ear. “Where have you gone on vacation?” 

“Nowhere.” I shrug. “Well, only to local places like Napa Valley with my dad,” I say and immediately regret how I keep calling him dad in front of her, and every time I do it, I see how her mouth forms a wrinkled line. “I’m sorry. I meant to say, Angelo.”

“It’s ok. For the last twenty years, you thought he was your dad, so I understand.”

We both sit back and take a long sip of our Mai Tais, and a reporter is writing furiously in her notebook while another is snapping a few photos. Don’t they ever get bored? 

“Tell me about Javier,” I say to break the silence. “How did you meet?”

“It was right after high school. I was eighteen.” She straightens, her eyes glowing with a smile. “I went to the beach with friends, and he was a lifeguard. I knew right away I would spend my life with him, and I flirted shamelessly. He was four years older, so he didn’t look at me the way I looked at him, but I was persistent. By the end of summer, he asked me on a date, and we never looked back. I was his, and he was mine.”

“That’s so beautiful.”

“Do you think you’ll marry Moses?”

“I’m not sure. It’s too early to tell.” I shrug.

“When you know, you know.” She smiles.

“I can’t wait to meet Javier.”

“Me too,” she sighs happily. “All he’s ever wanted was to find you, and he has prayed every night for your return. If he were here now, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you.” 

Amelia reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, but then her attention drifts across the way. A breath of frustration leaves her mouth, and she mutters something in Spanish. The reporters continue taking photos, and I bet they’re cooking up all sorts of juicy gossip for whatever article they’ll publish tomorrow.

“It’s getting late,” Amelia sighs. “And I’ve had enough of these paparazzi, but my brother Alfredo is flying into town in two days, and I’d like for us to meet for coffee. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

We say our goodbyes and part ways for the night, so I head outside to wait for my Uber. It seems the reporters have dispersed, so I exhale a breath of relief. The last few days of dealing with their lurking eyes have become an albatross around my neck. My pocket buzzes, so I pull out my phone, and it’s a text from Julian.

Julian: We’re at Bruno's. Come have a drink.

Me: Who is we?

Julian: Me, Sof, and the guys.

Me: I hate your jerk-face friends.

Julian: Come on. Don’t leave Sof all by herself.

Me: Moses isn’t off work yet.

Julian: So then have him meet you there. Just come already! One drink won’t hurt.

Me: FINE.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I let my head fall back to stare at the navy sky. The city lights are bright, and it drowns the stars, but the moon is vivid in its silver glow.

I hope the rest of tonight is just as peaceful.

Although, I might be jinxing things.