Page 105 of The Plus-One List

Ricardo’s eyes bulge. “Seriously?”

I nod. “I would really like to ask you some questions. And record this interview, if that’s all right.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Anything you need.”

This is not quite the reaction I was expecting but I fumble quickly to activate my recording app.

“My mom only told me about your family after Dad died,” Ricardo says. His Spanish is good but his accent is very gringo. He runs a hand through his hair, exactly the way I do. “It made a lot of things about my childhood make sense. I loved my mom, but … she was a very jealous woman. I loved my dad too. He was …” Ricardo takes a deep breath. “He was a very good father.”

It’s so strange to be talking to him after all this time spent tracking him down. He’d become this huge looming specter in my mind, like a monster hiding in a closet, but now that I’m talking to him, he’s just a twenty-something kid.

“Mom had a lot of rules I didn’t understand,” he says.

“Like what?” I ask.

“We couldn’t talk about Mexico. We couldn’t visit. Dad was never allowed to talk about his home. And when you’re a kid, especially growing up in the US, I wanted that connection. I wanted to feel like I was part of a bigger community. You know?”

I don’t know, not really. I am one hundred percent Mexican.

He shakes his head. “I think once Mom laid down the law, that’s when Dad really started getting into activism. Like if he wasn’t allowed to visit his home, he was gonna help people here. That’s what I always assumed.”

“That wasn’t it,” I say. “Well, not all of it. He told my abuelita about you and your mom—he confessed everything to her. She told him to do better. Be a better person.”

His eyes widen. “So she knew?”

I nod. “She never told us, though. We were going through a hard time. She didn’t want to burden the family more.”

“Fucking secrets, man,” Ricardo says. “I think Dad only married Mom because she got pregnant with me. They both loved me—I don’t know how much they loved each other. Enough, I guess. Whatever that means. I had a good childhood, don’t get me wrong. Dad was all about education. About learning. And he really inspired me with the whole El Rasca persona. He was the real deal, I can tell you that. Lots of late nights out in the community. Lots of people coming over to our house.”

I feel my throat go strangely tight. “I wish I could have known that version of him.”

“I wish I could have known him longer. I was only ten when he had the heart attack.” Ricardo hesitates. “Can I ask … what do you remember of him? What was he like in Mexico?”

What an odd way to phrase it. “I remember his beard,” I say. “So scratchy when he would give me hugs. He loved to bring the neighborhood together and throw parties, especially on Nochebuena. And I remember his laugh. It was big and loud. Me and my sisters loved it. We always tried to make him laugh so we could hear it.”

“You have two sisters, right?” he says eagerly.

“How did you know?”

“I did some digging on your family,” he admits. “But I never had the courage to reach out. I figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

I feel my head start to spin. All this time, Ricardo wanted to reach out to me.

“I’m not sure all of us would,” I admit, thinking of Lupe.

Ricardo grimaces. “Fair.”

“What made you want to work for Grupo Real?” I ask.

“Dad,” he says. “Seeing him on the news, seeing the changes he made, it really inspired me to work in media. And then, of course, because Mexico was always so forbidden, it was the one place I’ve always wanted to go. So when I started looking for jobs, I knew I wanted to work for a Mexican company.” He chuckles. “Then they sent me to Beijing for a year. I’m coming back though. I really like CDMX. I feel, I don’t know, I guess closer to Dad here. Mom couldn’t keep him from telling me everything. He said his favorite taqueria was—”

“El Huequito,” I finish.

Ricardo’s eyes brighten. “Yeah. First place I went after I landed here.”

“The one in Centro?”

“Obviously. The original. Though I’ve gone to the one in Juárez too.”