He smiled when he saw the pictures of the luxurious-looking home. “Damn, Abel! All this?”
Abel nodded then smiled at their mom. “Why not? Mom deserves it.”
“Ay, mi rey.” His mom got teary eyed, leaned over, hugging Abel by the shoulder, and kissed his head. “I told him, Hector. I don’t need all that. I’ve lived in this little house for years, and we’ve been fine, but he insists. You know I’m not asking for all that.”
“I know that, Ma.” Hector laughed.
Of course, his mom would never ask for something this lavish. He and Abel had been telling her for years she could buy the more expensive stuff from the supermarket to make life easier on her since she still insisted on cooking them home-cooked meals almost daily. But, no, she still bought the whole chicken, skin and all, instead of the more expensive boneless chicken br**sts.
“Estan locos!” she’d say. “Pay over three dollars a pound when I could pay thirty-nine cents!” Abel and Hector had taken over the grocery shopping for the most part in the past year or so.
“Is that what I think it is?” Hector looked at Abel with a hopeful smile.
Abel looked up at what Hector was pointing at on the paper. “Yeah, but don’t get any ideas. That place would be for me.”
Well, shit. For a moment there, Hector thought he’d figured out a way around his mother’s not-having-girls-overnight-at-her-house rule. The house his mother liked had a separate pool house way behind the main house, a house Abel would be making the most of.
“But don’t worry. The place has two master bedrooms on either end of the house, and the house is huge. Each master has its own separate entrance.”
“Cochinos!” Their mom said, frowning as she walked around the table to check the food on the stove. “Is that all you two are worried about?”
She turned around and waved a spatula at them, and it was on. She was going into one of her rants. Abel gave Hector a look. They should’ve known better than to talk about this in front of her.
“Even if are paying for it, Abel, if you want me living there with you two, you will not be parading a different girl in and out of there every day. I won’t have it. You need to be respectful to me and yourselves. Besides,” she turned to stir the food in the pan then turned back to them, “any girl who is okay with knowing she is not the only girl that’s been in your bedroom that week or even month for that matter is not the kind of girl you want to be bringing home.”
Hector wondered what his mom would have to say about Leticia and Miriam and smirked. Try the same night, Mom.
“De que te ries?” His mother glared at him.
Hector opened his mouth wide in protest. “I’m not laughing!”
That only made his mother’s glare even more severe since he laughed while saying it. Abel laughed now too. Hector was sure Abel could only imagine what he’d been thinking.
She turned on Abel now. “Don’t encourage him. You should be setting an example. You’re no spring chicken. When are you going to start looking for a nice little Mexican girl?”
Hector muffled a laugh into his fist as soon as his mom turned her back on them. Abel’s head was already hanging back defeated. It was the same song and dance with his mother. Abel wasn’t even twenty-two yet, but by that age, she and all her siblings had been married with kids for years. So to her, Abel should be looking to settle down—with a nice little Mexican girl, of course.
“And the younger the better,” she added.
“Oh, good. We’re getting the long version tonight.” Abel said, standing up with his plate in his hand.
“No seas grosero,” his mom snapped.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Abel kissed his mom’s forehead as he passed her to get to the sink. “I’m not trying to be rude. Go on.”
“Did you get full?” she asked, immediately losing the angry tone and sounding concerned, as she if ever served them too little
“Stuffed actually. But it was good.”
His mother smiled, satisfied, then continued with her rant. “I’m just saying. The girls these days are so different from back in my day. The days of innocence and saving yourself for your husband are long dead.” She huffed. “So it’s best to get them younger when they’re still a little bit more innocent. You know, less experienced.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Madre.” Abel kissed her forehead as he walked past her again. “I gotta go. Don’t wait up.”
“Where are you going?”
“I gotta go take care of some business,” Abel turned back with a wink, “respectfully, outside of your house.”
Hector’s mom placed her hand on her hip, pressing her lips together with a frown but didn’t say a word, watching him until he was out of sight. She turned back to Hector who was now sitting at the table, and he wiped the smirk right off his face, shaking his head in disapproval.
She rolled her eyes and went on about the age thing. Hector knew that argument was a bust. Younger wasn’t always better. Noah was proof of that. Roni was eight years older than he was, and those two were insanely happy. But he’d never bothered to argue the whole Mexican girl part. It’d never crossed his mind that he’d ever have to. Now he was curious. He had a feeling the answer would be based on some of the stuff his mom had said in the past. Still he decided to bite.
A little annoyed that Charlee was back front and center on his mind again, he waited for his mom to stop and take a breath before interrupting.