Over their heads, I watched the taxi back out of the driveway. A discarded shoe about the size of my palm lay on the porch. Juggling kids’ books, a wooden train, and a lonely flip-flop, I picked up the shoe and turned to Natalya.
“I want to show you a new trick I learned.” Julian took off to the kitchen. I heard the slider open and slam shut.
Natalya rose to her toes and kissed my cheek. “Hi.”
I smiled. “Hi back.”
Copper strands fanned across her face, tangling around her neck. A few caught on her lip. I brushed them aside, knocking her chin with the shoe.
“Ow.”
I chuckled, apologetic. “That was a rookie move.”
She blushed and glanced behind her. The taxi had left. My neighbors Raymond and Valencia Navarro were out for their evening walk. They waved and I waved back, then shut the door.
Julian barreled up the hallway, dribbling a fútbol. “Watch this, Tía Nat.” He toed the ball into the air and juggled it with his knees. Natalya counted to sixteen before the ball bounced off the edge of Julian’s thigh and nearly collided with a table lamp.
“Whoops.” Julian chased after the ball.
Natalya clapped. “That’s impressive.”
I dumped my armload into the laundry basket of items to go upstairs.
“Your moves are looking great, kid.” I prodded him from the room. “But the ball belongs—”
“Outside. Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Natalya and I followed Julian outside, where we passed the ball, comparing kicking accuracy and blocking skills. Julian pointed out mine were the worst between us, but I wasn’t entirely focused on the ball. My mind was on my conversation with Imelda and how that played into Julian’s future.
“Dude.” My son gawked at me when he caught me staring at him. I’d missed the ball again.
Natalya looked at me curiously and I shook my head. “My bad.” I jogged after the ball and drop-kicked it to her. With the coordination of a professional athlete, she stopped the ball with the ball of her foot and passed to Julian. My son rattled off stats for the Albrijes de Oaxaca, a Mexican fútbol team, as we continued passing the ball. Eventually Natalya yawned loudly. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Julian followed suit. He rubbed his eyes with his fists.
“Let’s go, future pro fútboller, off to bed.” I picked up the ball and tossed it onto a patio chair.
Julian hugged his aunt good night. Natalya dropped a kiss on his head. “Buenas noches.”
I helped Julian with his nightly ritual of picking up his room and brushing his teeth; then I read a quick story. He fell asleep before I reached the last page. Setting the book aside, I kissed him good night and ruffled his hair, letting my fingers linger. He’d lost much in his short life. Abandoned by his birth father and the death of his mother. Then there was me.
I rubbed the dark walnut strands, the hair coarse from salt and the summer sun. There were three scenarios about Julian, two with Marcus that concerned me. The authorities could remove Julian from my care, assuming the adoption wasn’t legal. I could abandon them. It could be tomorrow or years from now, but one day I’d wake up without any memories of them. What if I didn’t want kids? Would I walk away from them? I had to consider that possibility. What would happen to Julian and Marcus if I returned to California?
Then there was the final scenario, the one I’d been trying to come to terms with since last December. I wasn’t sure I wanted James to have custody.
Julian’s hair slipped through my fingers and I wondered when the same would happen to my memories of him.
I found Natalya in Marcus’s room. She stood over his crib. “I can’t believe how much he’s grown,” she whispered when I came to stand beside her. “He’s beautiful.”
Marcus stirred. He grunted, lifting his rear into the air, the sheet sliding off him. He smacked his lips and Natalya smiled. She pulled the sheet up to his shoulders and lightly patted his back. “I’ve missed him.”
And I missed her. I wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, too. The startling color of her green eyes, even here in the dim glow of the hallway light that spilled into Marcus’s room, always caught me off guard the first time I’d see her after months apart. But the thing about Natalya that touched me in places I never had the opportunity to experience with her sister was the way she cared for my sons. She loved them as though they were her own. It always surprised me she’d never married and had children of her own. She would be an incredible mother.
“Do you want a beer?”
She hummed her acknowledgment.
We went downstairs. She slipped out the kitchen slider and I retrieved the brews from the fridge, popping the lids. She was gazing at the stars when I joined her. “The moon’s bright tonight.” It cast her face in blue light.
I passed her a bottle. “Thanks.” She cheered and took a long drink, then sighed.
Cicadas sang their evening song and palms swayed in the breeze coming off the water, enough to chill what the day had melted away. I caught the delicate scent of soap in the salt-heavy air. Natalya had showered while I put Julian to bed and she’d changed into a dress that looked more like a large T-shirt. The bottom barely skimmed the top of her thighs. She crossed those amazing legs at the ankle and leaned against a support post for the wood balcony above us.
I looked away and took a huge gulp of beer. “Tell me about your meeting.”
“It went well. Dinner was phenomenal. We ate at the new seafood place on Avenida Benito Juarez.”
“Luna’s?”
She nodded. “I had mahimahi tacos. Mari’s agreed to do three exclusive designs for us. We’re meeting up in a few days to go over some concepts.”
“Is Gale on board yet?”
Natalya laughed lightly at my pun, shaking her head. She could have been laughing about her father, perhaps both. “Not entirely and he’s not going to like Mari’s counteroffer.”
Hayes Boards, a premier surfboard manufacturer founded by her father, Gale Hayes, and based in Hawaii, was known for its proprietary finishes and cutting-edge designs. Their stock boards lacked any unique artwork. Too masculine and generic in color, in Natalya’s opinion. The number of young girls taking to surfing had skyrocketed in the last decade and she was determined to expand Hayes Boards’s target audience by introducing a line of custom boards with designs that appealed to that generation. Natalya found that opportunity in Mari Vasquez, world-renowned surfboard painter. As artists, Mari and I ran in the same circles and I introduced her to Natalya last November during the torneo.
She took a lingering sip. “Dad agreed to commission Mari for three designs.” She held up the same number of fingers. “We’ll digitally print the designs on a fiberglass wrap and apply them on a limited number of long boards and see how they sell.”