Page 14 of Capicú Summer

Quickly, I put distance between us, watching her jaw clench, before her mouth opens to fire back. And that's when a rattling cough fills the silence. It’s deep, wet, and coming from her grandfather, Don Santos.

He steps out dressed in his usual cream short-sleeve dress shirt and beige pants with his fedora nestled on the top of his bald head. Everything stops. The broom is forgotten against the wall as she moves towards him in one swift movement. The soft salsa song playing on the speaker fades away in the background.

“Abuelo, you shouldn’t be out here,” Ruben says.

Don Santos waves him off with a hand, snickering at his pestering grandchildren. I clear my throat. It’s been so long since he stepped out. He looks smaller than I remember, thinner but still holding himself like the man who once ran this block with nothing but a milk crate and a deck of fichas.

“Déjenme tranquilo⁠*, I’m still alive,” he says, his voice rougher than I remember, but still commanding enough to stop his grandchildren from voicing their concern. With the help of his daughter and Adri, he lowers himself onto a blue crate that’s cracked on the corner. Adriana looks worried, as she lovingly rubs his shoulder, standing beside him in case he needs support.

Tapping the crate beside him with two fingers, he says. “Yaelito… Ven acá, muchacho.” ⁠*

My stomach drops, and Adriana stiffens.

There was no way I wasn’t going to take that seat. I was raised to respect my elders, especially ones as kind and generous as him. Someone who even my own grandmother loved and respected despite the ongoing feud. I walk over with a racing pulse and weak in the knees. The smell of salami fills the air, making my stomach growl and reminding me that I haven’t eaten today. Don Santos looks up at me with the same green eyes as the woman I love, and something inside me steadies.

He studies me like a parent, for a long moment, making me feel exposed. It’s like he could read every mistake since the day I moved onto this block. Then he smiles, showing off his golden tooth. “You two always did make too much noise.”

A ripple of laughter moves through him, but Adri doesn’t laugh, and neither do I.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ficha with a double three, edges worn from what looks like decades of games. Fuck, maybe even generations based on the faded paint and appearance. He sets it on the crate that sits between us.

“This is my last summer tournament,” he says quietly. “And I’m not leaving this world with unfinished business.”

I frown.

Not understanding where he’s going with this, but entertaining it either way. Don Santos looks up at his beloved granddaughter, giving her a warm smile, then back at me.

“You and Yael will plan the block party together. The domino tournament, too.”

Adriana's mouth drops open. “Abuelo, no. I’m sorry, but absolutely not.”

I shake my head, agreeing with her that there’s no way. “Yeah, no. Sorry, Don Santos, that’s not happening.”

His hand lifts, silencing us. “I should’ve done this years ago.” I’m still lost as to what he means, but I stand there listening anyway. His gaze shifts to me, and something in it makes my throat close. “It’s been decided.”

Adriana steps forward, crouching down to his eye level. “Abuelo, you can’t jus⁠—”

“I can. And I did.”

The way he says those words he may as well have been a judge slamming down his gavel. It’s final and unmovable. I can feel the prying eyes of the block and Adriana’s glare, like this is somehow my fault. Of course, I glare right back, not caring that it makes me seem childish.

Don Santos leans back into the wall, his eyes tired. “You two will work together. Whether you like it or not. You have to beat me tonight on Capicú Friday.”

The crowd of neighbors that gathers around us all agrees.

“Ay Dios, esto va a estar caliente,”⁠* a woman says to Miriam, who looks at us with a smirk and a hand on her hip. “Someone needs to get the popcorn, porque esto va a ser un show.” ⁠*

Over the chatter, I look over at Don Santos, who is clearly amused. And say, “Get ready to lose, Old Man.”

He laughs at my words. His index finger moves from side to side with each deep chuckle, and that’s his answer—a mockery disguised as humor. Adriana storms closer to me, her body heat radiating to mine.

I should walk away. I should let it go. Ignore the way her green eyes burn into me with a hate that feels too much like desire. Unfortunately, I inherited my father's mouth and my mother’s tenacity, and I remain rooted in place.

“You'd better focus,” she says through gritted teeth. “There’s no way I’m going to be stuck working with you all summer.”

I can't help the way my lips stretch further, amused by her anger. She has no right to, after all, she’s the one who left me. I cock my head to the side, biting down on my lower lip.

“How about this, mama, when you lose to me. I get you all summer?”