Page 25 of Shapes of Love
It feels unfair to kick him out like this.
Mom and Mamá share a look, and Mamá sighs. “Okay, why don’t you guys get started while we shower and unpack, and we’ll join you in an hour?”
“And tell Mr. Oliveira thank you,” Mom goes on. “We’ll make sure to stop by and bring him something in return.”
“Let’s playRainbow Road.” Sonia’s quick, reaching for the controller.
“Soni, you have to unpack, too,” Mom says.
Sonia shrugs. “Unpacking is a social construct.”
“Ah, she’s learned that recently,” I say when Kai fights a puff of laughter behind his fist. “Last month she said homework is a social construct.”
“Sonia,” Mamá says again. “Don’t forget you’re still grounded.”
“Grounded?” I ask.
Mamá sighs. “On our last day in Spain, your sister called some kid on the street a colonizer.”
“He literally cut the line in front of me and got the last free churro. I regret nothing.” Sonia flops on the couch and reaches for one of the controllers. “Anyway, asking a girl to unpack is sexist.” Sonia waves her controller from side to side. “If I were a boy, I’d be allowed to playRainbow Road. It expands my imagination instead of teaching me to do chores.”
“Soni, o vienes aquí ahora mismo o te quedas sin videojuegos una semana.” Mamá threatens to confiscate Sonia’s games for a week. My sister puts the controller down and acquiesces with a grunt. She knows it’s time to run when Mamá switches to Spanish.
Mamá, Esme, is my biological mom. She had me via donor before she met Mom, Liza, with the help of a male friend she has in Spain. I don’t remember life before Mom, though. She’s always been there. They met when I was three thanks to Mia’s mom, who was friends with them both, and they got married when I was five. I have a vague memory of their wedding, them wearing princess gownsand holding my hands as I waddled to the altar with the rings.
I remember thinking there was something sad about weddings, and that’s the reason people get emotional. I thought guests were there to say goodbye to my moms because they were never going to see them again once we became a family, as if Mom had chosen us instead of them. Obviously, I don’t think that now, but I still have this overwhelming feeling that there’s loss tied with joy.
I want to have what my moms have one day. Not because they fell in love, but because they built a home together. I want that. A home. A found family. I just don’t know if that’s in the cards for me as an aroace person.
“Don’t leave before we playMario Kart,” Sonia tells Kai.
“I won’t.” Kai shakes pinkies with Sonia. “But I won’t show mercy.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” When Sonia smiles, there’s a gap between her teeth, and I realize she must have lost a baby tooth while I was gone. The thought stirs something in my chest. When did life start going by so fast? When I was little, each month felt like a lifetime. Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life?
Soon she’ll be the same age I was when she was born. Mom had Sonia when I was eleven, through the same donor as Mamá. We both have the same nose that scrunches when we frown, the same deep brown, almond-shaped eyes, the same lopsided smile. She’s Black, like Mom, with medium brown skin and warm golden undertones, while Mamá andI are white with olive undertones. I have dark brown hair with 2B waves, and Sonia has beautiful 3C curls. One of my favorite childhood memories is of Mom teaching me how to care for and do Sonia’s hair in different styles.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. It feels like it was yesterday; the memories closest to my heart still feel so fresh in my mind.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Kai and I watch TV for an hour until Sonia stumbles into the living room and demands we race her onMario Kart, and after a couple of hours, my moms join us for a game of Jenga. My heart feels full in a way it hasn’t for a while. The initial awkwardness between me and Kai is disappearing, at least when we’re around other people. But it feels treacherous, like clay that’s been molded but is still wet, like if I hold on to this feeling too tightly, it will collapse.
Maybe it will, I think. But for now I’m whole, so I cast the thought aside, focusing on Sonia’s victorious smile as she drives Kai off Rainbow Road.
CHAPTER 7
I groan, stretching. I don’t know what time it is, but I must have slept for a long time, based on the light pouring in from my window directly onto my face. A headache lingers, but I no longer have a fever. I push myself up on my elbows, smiling. My family is home, Kai and I had fun yesterday, Mia is coming back for the holidays, and we’re having a sleepover on Monday.
Today, the centrifuge spins slowly, and all is good.
My fingers ache for the soothing touch of my piano, so I spend the next few hours texting with Shirley about the new song. We can’t seem to agree on the violins. I think it makes the bridge more emotionally impactful, but they think it distracts from my vocals. Maybe I should do a Live and ask my fans? It’s been a while since I was able to talk to them in real time, and I miss it. I crave the intimacy of my earlier days, when I’d go live and play covers while they told me about their day.
And yet, as I navigate to my social media, something gives me pause. The number of comments on one of my postsseems to have doubled overnight. A sense of dread washes over me. Did I like something by mistake again?
When I browse through a handful of comments on my latest post, they all seem to be in response to a picture Kai posted of us playing board games last night. He tagged me, as per my label’s request.
sasshaaaaaaYOU GUYS ARE THE BLUEPRINT
sashaissoprettySCREAMS INTO THE VOID
