Big Chicas Don't Cry(100)

“Ms. Lopez?”

I turned around to see the mom of one of my former first graders. Her name was Sarah Dawson, and she looked very, very pregnant.

“Hello, Mrs. Dawson. How are you? Is Annabelle running around nearby somewhere?”

“I’m good. And no Annabelle today. I had to pick up some Santa gifts for her stocking, so she’s back at home with her dad.”

I offered her a warm smile. “Totally understand. Please wish her a Merry Christmas from me. I really do miss having her in my class. And, it looks like I should also say congratulations.” We both looked at her rounded belly. She rubbed the top of it with her palm.

“Thank you. Less than two weeks to go. By the way, I bought those frog pajamas last week,” she said, pointing at the one-piece I was holding. “Is that for a baby shower gift or Christmas gift? Because they also have the matching blanket on the other side if you want to spend a little more.”

At first, I didn’t know how to explain. Or if I should even try.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I did everything I could to hide it.

When it wasn’t a secret anymore, it became a challenge. Something I had to overcome in order to survive, almost.

It was time to think of this pregnancy in the only way I should—I was going to have a baby.

“Actually, I’m thinking of buying it for myself. Well, for my baby. I’m due in June.”

Mrs. Dawson clapped and gave me a hug. “I’m so happy for you. Have you done your registry yet? Oh, because you definitely want to put the new Graco swing on there.”

“What’s a Graco?” I asked.

She laughed. “Come with me. I’m about to give you a quick and dirty lesson on everything you will ever need for a baby.”

An hour later, I walked out of Target with my Christmas gifts and another bag filled with my first baby purchases.





Chapter Sixty-Six


ERICA


I woke up shivering.

Even underneath my down comforter, I couldn’t stop shaking. I looked at the clock and cursed out loud when I saw that it was only four a.m. I had to be up in less than two hours, and I was still so sleepy. I closed my eyes and tried to think of things to make me feel warm—chicken soup, a fireplace, the beach in August. I pulled up my knees and tried to get the comforter snug against me. I knew the heater was on, so I couldn’t figure out why I felt so cold. I closed my eyes again and tried to fall asleep.

The shivering eventually went away.

This time I woke up to the buzzing of my cell phone. My eyes opened, and I wondered why there was so much light outside already. I grabbed my phone and said a groggy hello.

“Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice. “Are you just waking up?”

“No, I’ve been awake. But then I fell asleep. What time is it?”

“It’s almost eight.”

“What? Oh, my alarm didn’t go off. I’ll be right there, Mom,” I said and hung up without letting her tell me goodbye.

I got dressed in a record two minutes and was out my door in another two. By the time I arrived at my grandparents’, the driveway was full of cars. I parked at the end, near the sidewalk, even though I knew I’d eventually have to move when people started leaving later.

I walked in and expected to see everyone in the patio chattering away while they worked. Instead, there were only a few of my younger cousins sitting around looking at their cell phones. From inside, I heard the sound of voices and laughter.

“Erica!” Tía Espy screamed as I walked through the kitchen door. “You made it, sleepyhead.”

My tías and cousins were sitting around my abuela’s large dining table eating pan dulce and drinking coffee. I walked over and started saying my hellos and kissing everyone on the cheek. Even Mari. She looked surprised and then gave me a hug.

We had started texting and calling each other a few weeks ago. She and Esteban still weren’t living together, and Mari had needed someone to talk to. After all, I was the expert on breakups. I could tell she still loved him, and I hoped they could find their way back to each other one day. In the meantime, she was looking for a job at a restaurant until she could start her own catering business.

“Please tell me you brought the bu?uelos?”

“Sí, cómo no. I even packed you your own batch to take home.”

I gave her another hug just for that. Then I walked over to my mom, who was filling up the teakettle with water. “Mom, why haven’t you started yet? It’s late.”

“Well, I couldn’t get up this morning. I was just so cold. So I stayed in bed longer than I usually do. By the time I got here, your abuela was barely getting dressed. Then your tías and cousins only showed up about a half hour ago. Turns out everyone decided to sleep in a little this morning.”

“But the tamales? Usually by now, we’re already making the second batch to cook. Are we going to have enough time to cook all of them?”

“Well, we cut down a little this year. Abuela said she didn’t want to end up with so many in her freezer. So since we’re making less, it will take less time.”

“Is the masa ready?”

She smiled. “It will be.”

I believed that what truly made my family’s tamales stand out from all the rest was the light and tasty masa that held all the fillings inside. Made from corn, the masa required lots of attention and love in order to get it to the perfect consistency and flavor that I began to crave in the months and weeks leading up to Christmas Eve.