“Thirty-one years,” Felix answered, a trace of pride in his voice.
“Maria said you’ve had to expand over the years. That’s impressive.”
“We’ve been blessed,” Felix agreed. “Have you eaten here before?”
“No,” Colin admitted. “But Maria says your wife is an amazing chef.”
Felix stood a little straighter. “She is the best,” he said, glancing over at Carmen. “Of course, because of that, she sometimes believes that she is the boss.”
“I am the boss,” Carmen said in somewhat broken English.
Colin smiled, and after more small talk, Maria watched as her dad reached for her mom’s arm.
“Let’s go. We should let them visit,” Felix said.
After saying good-bye, Maria watched her parents start back toward the kitchen.
“You know they’re in there talking about you right now with Tito and Anna and all the rest of them. Aside from Luis, you’re the only guy I’ve ever brought here.”
“I’m honored,” he said, and she had a feeling he actually meant it.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she added.
“They’re gracious people.”
“Yes, but I’m still their daughter. And they didn’t ask any hard questions.”
“Maybe they won’t.”
“Oh, they will eventually. Unless, of course, we never see each other again.”
“Is that what you want?”
Maria dropped her eyes for a moment. “No,” she said. “I’m glad we’re here. And I’m happy we’ll be spending some time together this weekend.”
“Which means?”
“That the next time we’re all together – assuming there will be a next time – I’m going to be even more nervous.”
Minutes later, Carmen and two of Maria’s cousins began ferrying food to the table: plates of tacos, burritos, mole poblano, and enchiladas; tamales, carne asada, chile relleno, tilapia Veracruz, and a bowl of salad. As her mom began placing the dishes on the table, Maria waved her hands.
“Mom – this is way too much,” Maria protested. Even Colin appeared to be surprised as all the plates began to arrive.
“Eat what you want,” Carmen answered in Spanish. “We’ll bring the rest of it to the back and set it out. People will finish it.”
“But…”
Carmen glanced at Colin, then back to Maria. “Your sister was right. He’s very handsome.”
“Mom!”
“What? He doesn’t understand me.”
“That’s not the point!”
“It’s just good to see you happy. Your dad and I have been worried. All you ever do is work.” She smiled before her gaze returned to Colin. “Colin? Is that an Irish name?”
“I have no idea.”
“Is he Catholic?”
“I haven’t asked him.”
“What do you talk about?”
You have no idea, Maria thought. And you don’t want to know. “It’s not polite to talk in front of him like this, you know.”
“Of course,” her mom said, squeezing the last plate between their water glasses. “You’re absolutely right.” Switching to English, she smiled at Colin. “Please… enjoy,” she offered.
“Thank you. We will.”
A moment later, they were alone, mountains of food spread before them.
“It smells delicious,” Colin said.
“Are you kidding? This is ridiculous! Who on earth could eat this much food?”
“You sound upset.”
“Of course I’m upset. We should have been able to order off the menu, but instead, my mom had to do her thing.”
“What’s her thing?”
“I’m still trying to figure it out. To impress you? To make sure you feel welcome?”
“Those are good things.”
“I know, but she tends to overdo it.”
She watched as Colin’s gaze moved from one plate to the next, and she pointed at the tilapia. “I think my mom made this one special for you. It’s just baked fish, with tomatoes, olives, and raisins. Go ahead and serve up.”